Powerful Moves [L.U.S.T.] (Siren Publishing Classic) (9 page)

Even as she thought the questions, the answers came on their heels. Nothing. The power she felt move through her in the hallway had been potent and intoxicating and not Tavius’s, just as the power in the woods had not been his. At least not his alone. She couldn’t say why she felt so certain of that. She just knew.

If not his, then whose? Where had it come from? Powers didn’t materialize out of nowhere or nothing. All electricity, be it man-made or metaphysical, had a source. Cedric had taught her that.

Though she really, really didn’t want to, Elena opened her mind, searching the passages within for the way to Cedric. When she found the door at the end, she gave it a push and bit her bottom lip at the sharp slice of pain the effort caused. Then she cursed a blue streak when the door didn’t budge.

“Friggin’ bastard and your impenetrable shields.” She raked a hand through her hair and stomped out of her bedroom.

She hesitated in the hallway, her gaze landing on the area of the wall where she’d experienced the orgasm of all orgasms hours before. Many hours before, she mused, realizing she’d slept through an entire day of sunlight.

“Definitely one powerful orgasm,” she muttered but couldn’t stop the satisfied smile from curving her lips. Who knew an orgasm could knock her lights out?

Remnants of her release lingered in the air of the hallway along with the sounds she had made, and the visions of Tavius on his knees with his face buried between her legs. Her inner thighs tingled, drawing her attention for the first time to the dull ache of the abrasions on her tender flesh. His stubbled jaw left that evidence behind. Somehow she knew it would upset him to know he had harmed her, even in such a deliciously enjoyable way.

The vision showed him lifting her into his arms. He brushed a kiss to the top of her head and carried her to her room. Moments later, he exited her room to cross the hall and disappear into the guestroom.

He hadn’t hung around in her room, hadn’t attempted to stay in her bed with her. She admired that, respected him for it. She’d been down for the count, completely out of it, mentally and physically vulnerable, and he’d left her alone.

There’s definitely more to you than meets the eye, Tavius Zolan
.

She walked to the closed guestroom doorway, attempting to open it before the images had a chance to take hold. She froze with her hand on the doorknob when they hit and slammed her eyes shut, sinking her teeth into her lower lip as her body erupted in fierce desire.

She saw Tavius standing at the foot of the bed, head tipped back, eyes closed. His shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh. His shirt rose next as he tugged it up and over his head and let it fall to the floor at his feet.

Elena’s gaze moved over the imagery of corded muscles and rigid abs. Her body’s acute memory of that fine-toned torso pressed to her pliant curves didn’t help her hormones remain at bay. He reached for the fastening of his leather pants, and she knew she should cut off the vision before it went any further.

She couldn’t. Not simply because she really,
really
wanted to see the show but because once the visions came to her unbidden as this one had, they gave her no choice but to let them play out. She swallowed as his fingers worked the fastening free. He shucked the leather down thick thighs and strong calves, kicking the pants off in a move that bordered frustration.

Elena’s gaze moved up, and she swallowed again. His thighs weren’t the only thick part of his anatomy. The sight of Tavius’s fully aroused cock made her feel dizzier than the power hangover she woke with. Her channel gave a spasmodic jerk at the fingers of need that clawed her inner walls.

He settled on the edge of the bed, one hand on his thigh, the other,
sweet Gods in Summerland
, curled around his stiff cock. He started stroking himself, slowly at first but picking up pace in measured glides of his fisted hand up and down his shaft.

Elena’s hand tightened on the doorknob as she watched the vision of Tavius jerking himself off play until he ejaculated. She wanted to help him. Her hand burned to fist around his rigid shaft. Her mouth watered with the desire to take his thick cock between her lips, to trace the pulsing vein with her tongue, to drink the thick semen that spewed from the slit when he reached his release.

His chest heaving from his exertions, Tavius fell back on the bed. As if someone pushed the off button on Elena’s mental television, the vision ended. She opened her eyes and found Tavius sleeping soundly in the bed, the sheet and comforter tangled around his legs but covering his essential parts.

Winded herself after the vision she’d witnessed, she decided to make coffee and change before waking him. She cast a last, longing glance at the man who scared her to her toes even as he made said toes tingle, and closed the door behind her as she walked to the kitchen.

A half an hour later, Elena found herself standing outside the guestroom again, this time with a tray of two coffee cups balanced on one hand. She took a deep breath to steady her suddenly racing heart and slammed her vision shield in place. A part of her, the sensible one that looked out for her own self-preservation, wished she’d thought to shield herself before leaving her room. The other part, the vixen with the seriously developing thing for a certain other-realm visitor, was glad she hadn’t.

He lay exactly as she left him, tangled in the sheets in the center of the queen-size bed. His hands were folded beneath his head as if he’d settled back to stare at the ceiling and contemplate his next move to catch the vampire Le Mort. Thanks to Elena’s vision, she knew Le Mort had been the furthest thing from Tavius’s mind when he’d fallen asleep.

Or maybe not, she considered. Maybe his release had given him the clearer head to think. She hoped for his sake it had because, Gods knew, the orgasm he gave her in the hall did little more for her than muddle her mind and give her the mother of all headaches.

She cleared her throat as she sat the tray on the nightstand. Her hands barely released the tray before she found herself hurled through the air and tossed onto the bed, Tavius’s weight an exquisite feel on top of her.

Elena blinked at him, the first trickle of alarm dancing down her spine as she met his gaze. His electric eyes sparked with danger. His lips set in a thin line. The muscle in his jaw ticked a staccato beat. His breath came steady and shallow, but she felt his body move ever so slightly with each inhale, each exhale.

Reflex, she realized, as awareness shifted in his expression. This wasn’t the playful Tavius she had caught sight of a few times since meeting him in the woods. This was the head of security, the man who travelled through the realms to chase down a vampire.

Elena had to lick her lips before she could push out the apology that sprang to her tongue. “I didn’t mean to spook you. I brought coffee. You do drink coffee in your realm, don’t you?”

Tavius’s eyes cleared. His face relaxed. His lips twitched in a smile. “We live off coffee in my realm. It’s the nectar of the Gods.”

His words stirred another memory. One where he’d whispered those exact words just before driving his tongue in the heated depth of her channel. She clamped her teeth on the insides of her lips and gazed up at him.

He grinned and bent to kiss the tip of her nose. “Seems I discovered a much tastier nectar last night, though. I’ll take it over coffee any time.”

“Coffee will have to do for now. It’s time to go.” She gave his shoulders a gentle-but-pressured push. Her hands wanted to linger there, to hold on while he settled his body more securely between her thighs and drove his cock inside her. Gods, she could feel his cock through the sheets and her pants, a semihard weight of male resting along her heated sex. “Now get off me so I can find some clothes for you to wear.”

A frown etched itself between his brows. “What’s wrong with mine?”

“You look like you stepped off an eighties hair-band tour bus.” Give him a pound of eyeliner, a tube of lipstick, and a frizzed wig that hung to his ass and he’d be set. “Gideon will love the look and you’d definitely fit in at the club, but I think it would be good if you stood out a little less.”

Tavius whole-heartedly disagreed. He tugged at the neckline of the shirt Elena gave him and wished, not for the first time since putting it on, that he’d insisted he wear his own clothes. So what if he attracted attention? At least he’d be comfortable doing it. Hell, as snug as this shirt fit, he might as well not even be wearing one. The jeans weren’t so bad, though the rough denim rubbed at his sac a little more than he liked. Okay, so he did like it, which created a bigger problem given that he preferred not to walk around with a constant raging hard-on.

And if you want to avoid that you better ditch the woman now
.

Who was he kidding? It wasn’t the semi abrasive fabric to his tender flesh keeping him aroused. It was the long-legged, long-haired blonde in the skin-tight jeans and turquoise blouse that refused to let his dick rest. Denim and linen, two materials he had no problems at all seeing straight through to every spectacular inch of milky flesh they attempted to conceal.

She walked a few steps ahead of him as they crossed the busy street at the crosswalk. He quickened his pace to catch up with her. “Are you trying to punish me for something?”

She shot him a look. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, a faulty orgasm, perhaps?” He knew damned well that wasn’t the case. If anything, the orgasm he gave her knocked them both on their asses.

No, the power that raged between them in that moment rendered the punch. He and Elena merely held on for the ride.

They hadn’t discussed the power trip that left them both sated enough to sleep the day away. Beyond the hours of slumber, he didn’t know exactly how it affected her or what she felt from it. More, he still didn’t have a clue where it came from. He only knew there had been more in that hallway last night than the carnal desire to mate.

She laughed. “Actually, the orgasm worked pretty damned good. Why?”

“Did you forget I can see through your clothes?”

“Nope.” She shrugged, but he didn’t miss the gleam of the vixen in her eyes. “I just figured since you’ve already seen every part of me now, why bother hiding it. Besides, I only own a few articles of clothing that contain spandex.”

“Remind me to buy you more.”

“What’s the matter, Tavius? Does your power not come with a shut off switch?”

“It does.”

“Then use it.”

“Damn, woman,” he muttered and shook his head when he heard her giggle.

If he didn’t find a way to get a handle on this woman she was sure to drive him and his cock insane. He’d been in control when he followed her down the hall last night. He’d known what he was doing right up until the moment he felt that jolt of power. Then all hell, and hormones, broke loose.

Still, he managed to grasp onto his sanity enough to take nothing more than what she offered. Although, geezus, what she offered made him drunk and crazed to experience more, to take more.

And back to the power we go
.

He couldn’t explain the jolt in the hall, but he’d felt it when his evocative mind play came on-line. It slammed into him like a sledgehammer to the brain. Two things had prevented him from using the power. One, he hadn’t needed it. Two, it scared the living daylights out of him. He never felt it so potent, so sure, so insistent. He feared if he attempted to use it at that level of intensity he might do more than plant a simple suggestion. He might gain control.

Elena stopped and turned toward him, her expression puzzled and half amused. “Is something wrong, handsome?”

Tavius shook it off. Rather than answer her, he looked up and studied the building where they’d stopped. It was a tavern, or a bar as it was called in Atlanta. The structure appeared to be nothing fancy. Brick walls with a set of large wooden doors. A neon sign above the entrance flashed red letters that spelled LUST.

Tavius smiled and spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “Nice cover.”

“The bosses thought so. The bar and the agency were started at the same time.”

“What kind of bar is it?” Music drowned out his question as Elena opened the door. A cacophony of electronic beat and synthesized sound spilled into the street.

A haze settled over the interior room, making it difficult to see. Tavius gave his transparent vision a nudge. He didn’t want to see through everything in the room. He merely wanted to see the room.

At least that’s what he thought. A quick scan showed him all he needed. Neon lights, canisters of pyrotechnics—no doubt the cause of the room’s hazy atmosphere—and people packed together like sardines in a can holding drinks of various sizes and colors.

Elena hooked an arm through his and leaned closer, raising her voice. “What did you say? I didn’t hear you.”

“The music.” Tavius dipped his head closer to her so he didn’t have to shout. “I’ve never heard it before.”

“Pan Sonic. It’s techno. The genre was huge in the eighties along with grunge rock and hair bands.” She glanced up at him, her eyes dancing with amusement to the beat of the song. “I’m guessing that’s something else you don’t have on Terra.”

“We must have missed that era.” His attention fell on the dance floor. He watched in abject fascination as a slew of dancers moved stiffly to the techno beat like robotic mimes. Soon, the automation gave way to a free fly of long hair and thrashing heads in time with a screeching guitar beat. “I’m thinking it wasn’t a great loss.”