Prince of Shadows (16 page)

“Are you going to take it off for me, Gabby?” he asked.

At first she thought that he meant for her to lick the glistening moisture from that intriguing little slit, but then she remembered that she'd been doing something. She nodded, wiggling a little as she pulled off the tank so that her breasts bounced freely as they popped out of the fabric. He stilled, his knuckles whitening around the thick base of his erection. “Fuck, you're not wearing a bra.”

She shrugged. “I was in a hurry…and I didn't want to wake you fumbling around in the room.”

“Damn considerate of you.” His eyes took on a devilish glint. “Don't suppose you were considerate enough not to rummage around for your panties.”

“Maybe…” She slipped her fingers into the waistband of her workout pants. “Want to find out?”

“Hell yes,” he said as he chucked his own jeans in a move that was so fast he practically blurred. Had he actually pulled them off his legs or had he pulled his particle trick again?

“You better hurry if you don't want me ripping those off you,” he warned.

She complied, not because he'd ordered her to, but because it suited with her desires as well. She was truly an addict. Just thinking about how good he felt as he pumped inside of her was making her heart race at a rate that couldn't be healthy.

Oh
how
far
I've come in just one night. Sign me up for the next session, Doctor Valin. Right now.

She launched herself at him at the same time he moved for her. They met with a crash in the middle of the room. His mouth descended upon hers, hot and firm and demanding. His hands claimed her, his touch just shy of bruising as he tweaked and stroked every hot button he'd discovered upon her last night. As for her, she was a mindless animal, clawing and keening as she tried to wring all she could from him at the same time.

More.

Stay
in
control.

Had to have him. All of him.

And
will
you
lose
yourself
when
you
do?

“No, no, nononono…” She shook her head, her hands fisting against his chest. She couldn't do this. Shouldn't have given over to the need in the first place.

“Bullshit,” he growled and whirled her around, slamming her up against the door, his breath coming in short gasps as he pinned her there, his need readily evident against the soft dip of her lower stomach. “No is not an option for us anymore, Gabby.”

“I just meant…” She swallowed, unable to voice her doubts sufficiently for him to understand.

That's assuming he'd care enough to hear.

She took a deep breath, trying to silence the doubts and needs that were splitting her in two. Valin stilled, his gaze searching as he looked for something in her face. “What did you mean, Gabby?”

“I meant…” She closed her eyes, leveraging her hands on his shoulders so she could wiggle her hips into the perfect position. She lifted her legs, linking her ankles behind his hips as she rubbed herself on the hot ridge of his erection.

He hissed, his body turning to hard iron. “Damnit, Gabby. First you say no, then you rub against me like a cat in heat. What are you trying to do to me?”

Nothing. Nothing to him. Though this would surely scar her.

Even knowing that wasn't enough to make her stop. The need was too great. The desire for this man too much to dismiss.

Just
keep
it
simple. Him. You. Sex. We're all just animals, after all.

“I meant don't stop.”

“Oh thank God,” he said, the tension in his body transferring into a powerful thrust against her, his cock rubbing deliciously against her weeping folds. She clasped her lip between her teeth, barely catching the needy moan that bubbled from her throat in response.

“Do you like that, cookie?”

“Don't call me cookie,” she responded automatically, but ruined the rebuff by trying to devour his mouth.

He chuckled around her tongue, breaking the lip-lock enough to murmur, “I'll take that as a yes.”

“Bastard,” she said, even as she ground her pelvis against him. He was so hot against her slick core. So hard, if she could only angle her pelvis a bit more…

“Do you want more of me?” he teased, his hips rotating in sanity-breaking short motions against her clit.

“Yes, just…please.”

“Please what?” he asked, shifting so that the tip of his cock barely slipped inside of her before pulling back out.

She whimpered, arching her back to follow his retreat, but was blocked from achieving her goal by the hand that clasped firmly down on her ass.

“Say it, Gabby.”

She growled a sound, letting her head fall back against the door as she glared at him in frustration. “You want me to talk dirty to you?”

“I want you to tell me what you want.”

“Fine.” She gritted her teeth, then smiled and said with saccharine sweetness, “Please, Valin, oh man of all males, would you please fuck me?”

His jaw ticked, his pupils sharpening to dagger points. “Is that what you want?”

She nodded curtly. It was all she could have.

He growled, the noise rumbling deep in his chest. The sound, combined with the little power struggle they'd just had, dimmed her growing need enough that she finally clued in to his emotions. He was pissed, though whether pissed at her, her responses, or just that he wanted her at all she didn't know. She pressed against his shoulders with her hands, intent on telling him to forget this had ever happened, when he thrust, his cock piercing deep into the welcoming folds of her core.

She gasped, pleasure rippling from the overwhelming wash of sensations. Any thoughts of ending this drowned in the burning tidal wave of need that rode in on pleasure's tail.

Holy hell. How was she going to walk away from this man after this?

“Valin…I just…I want…”

“What do you want, Gabby? What do you need me to do?” he asked, his strokes almost brutal even as he eased into a pounding rhythm that she knew from experience would just drive her wilder.

Her nails dug into his shoulders. She was finding it difficult to draw in air as he seemed to be driving it all out of her. “More. I need….” She gasped on a particularly intense stroke, shuddering at the mind-numbing effect of their passion. “Yes, like that.” No thoughts. No worries. Just sex. It's what she needed. And all she deserved.

He obliged, gritting his teeth as if maintaining the punishing rhythm was testing his willpower. She couldn't know for sure, not without opening herself to the glimpses of his other emotions and that…well, after the last lookey-see, she doubted she wanted to know. Especially when she was so close to coming apart.

She closed her eyes, straining against him, searching for the combination of sensations that would mean her release. Like the addict she was, she now craved the type of release that only he could give her.

“Is this what you want? Do you like me fucking you?” His voice broke her climb toward ecstasy, forcing her to cling to her current ledge.

“Yes, damn you, you know I do.”

He slowed, drawing out the next stroke, then tormenting her with a long, languid rub back in. “How about this? Can you like this?”

She writhed against him, her nerves screaming in frustration. Just a couple more strokes and she would have been there. Just a couple more moments until that blissful moment of suspension where nothing mattered—not her past, not her future, nothing but right then.

“No, I need…Please, Valin, you're killing me!”

He leaned in, his hand wrapping in the hair at the back of her neck as he pressed his lips against her forehead. The kiss was barely a whisper, no more than the soft caress of air as he drew in a shaky breath. “I don't want to kill you, Gabby. I want to love you.”

Her eyes popped open, startled not only by his words but by the small amount of moisture that sunk down through the hair on top of her head. He was crying? She shook her head, biting her lip. “Valin…I…”

“Don't! Don't say it.” He tightened his grip around her hair, yanking her head back so that she had to look at him. His face was angry, nostrils pinched tight, mouth but a thin line, and, angels help her, tears glistening in his eyes.

What had she done to him? How could she…He thrust into her with such force that she gasped, leaving her no breath to speak.

“Don't say a fucking thing, just…God, Gabby. I need this. I need to make love to you. I need you.” He pressed another kiss to her forehead, closing his eyes as he resumed his pace of long seductive strokes.

Her heart melted. The one she wasn't really sure she had. How could she? She seduced for power, fed off evil. How could she ever be worthy of this man?

You
fought. You fight still. Now get some fucking backbone and fight for him.

Courage. Until now it was the one thing she would have said she didn't lack. But it seemed, with Valin, it was most possibly her weakest trait.

Not
anymore
, she told herself firmly and then did the bravest thing ever. She relaxed, giving over to the seductive pleasure he wooed her with, laying her head on his shoulder.

“I need you too. I just can't…can't say…I don't dare…” She choked on something. Something hard and achy that stole away her words and threatened to boil up into tears.

“Shhh…That's enough. Has to be. Because I can't fucking let you go again.”

Then
don't. Oh, please love me, Valin. Love me as much as I love you.

As if he'd heard her words, he drew her closer, kissing her lightly as he slowly rocked her toward a pleasure she'd never known.

Bennett pushed open the cafeteria doors, leaving behind the raucous din of the midday diners as he turned right down the hall. He wasn't surprised he hadn't found Valin there—the man liked dark, out-of-the-way corners—but Bennett was beginning to run out of places to look and becoming increasingly frustrated.

He and Valin needed to come up with a strategy to convince Jacob to open a dialogue with the Paladin council. These men and women needed help, whether they wanted it or not. The only reason they'd survived so far was because they'd basically gone unnoticed by their enemies. But how long could that last?

With three dead merkers after the pyro attack, Ganelon would have to put some time and effort into a serious investigation. And these people were sitting ducks.

Benett rounded the corner, his mood picking up a bit when he saw Annie walking toward him. She kept
very
close tabs on her mentor, Gabby. And where Gabby was…well, Valin was sure to have followed.

She caught sight of him, her eyes lighting up and her hand lifting in a little hi-ya wave. He couldn't help but smile a bit in return as he felt the influence of her gift surround him, cutting out the constant chaos of emotions that prickled at his skin. Too bad the effect was almost immediately countered by a coiling of his nerves.

He knew that Valin called her an Amazon, but he didn't see it. Yes, she was tall, her lean body carved with long, smooth muscle, but there was something decidedly fragile about her too. Perhaps it was just the double-edged curse of her gift. Being a null might seem like a great weapon to strip your opponents of their magical powers, but a little time with her had shown him just what sort of handicap her gift really was. The complete absence of magical energy that was a side effect of her gift made her a virtual beacon to all things that could sense the ebbs and flow of power. It also made her a walking bomb to anything and anyone relying on magic—a weapon that, unfortunately, could be yielded by friend or foe.

And Bennett had no idea what to do about it.

He knew what he wanted to do: wrap her up and tuck her far away from anywhere Ganelon might think to look. But he'd spent enough time with her to know that doing so would kill her spirit. It was bad enough that she was a virtual prisoner here in this base, and this cell was forged with love. He'd seen her watch the patrols come and go and all he could think of when he did was of a caged bird. Her heart urged her to fly forth into battle with the rest of the warriors, but she couldn't even test her wings within the confines of her cage. The result was a cranky and often sullen young woman, though damn, she looked content enough right now.

“Hey, Bennett. It's a beautiful day, isn't it?” She beamed at him.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. If she'd been outside again, he didn't want to know. Not only would it put him in the position of keeping her secret—or not—but he simply didn't want to think of the risk she was taking when she did such things.

“Something wrong?”

He opened his eyes, rolling his shoulders to relieve some of the ever-increasing tension. “Have you seen Valin?”

“Um, actually…” She glanced over her shoulder toward the double doors at the end of the hall.

“He's in the gym?” He started to brush by her, but she caught his arm, dragging him to a halt.

“I don't think you want to go in there just now.”

His stomach tightened. Ballocks, what had the Paladin done now?

“Actually the gym is safe, but I wouldn't go into the equipment room if I were you.” Her grin widened, and she did this wiggly thing with her brow that made absolutely no sense to him.

Unless she caught Valin naked again. And bloody hell, why did that piss him off? “Care to tell me why?”

“Let's just say he and Gabby are having a long overdue…um…discussion.”

He blew out a breath, rubbing his forehead. “Hell.”

Annie elbowed him. “What's your problem? This is a good thing.”

He grunted, not able to muster the obvious happiness that Annie felt about them finally getting together. Sure, he wished Valin the best, but given the obstacles, Bennett didn't hold too much hope for a happy ending. His brothers were dropping like flies. Love, the obvious poison. Thank the maker he had yet to be cursed with that affliction.

Annie tipped her head to the side, nibbling her lip as if unsure whether she should speak. He raised his brow. “You look tense,” she said.

“I guess I am a bit.”

“You want to spar?”

Actually, the idea sounded rather appealing but…“I thought you said the gym was occupied.” Or rather the equipment room, but if things were progressing how Annie seemed to assume they were, he frankly didn't want to be anywhere nearby. Rather not overhear that, thank you very much.

“I have another place in mind.”

“Lead the way,” he said, figuring he had at least an hour or two to kill, if not more. A smart man did not come between a Paladin and his mate during bonding, and Bennett was nothing if not smart. Besides, there was no way he was going to risk interrupting…that…for fear of having some rather unwanted images burned into his retinas.

He followed Annie back down the hall, then up the central stairs. Needing diversion from the reason he followed her, he indulged in watching her backside as she climbed the cement steps ahead of him. The woman had a fine arse, and those legs…they went on forever and brought to mind thoughts of what they'd feel like wrapped around him.

She smiled over her shoulder, then, as if she knew just what he was thinking, took the last few stairs with an exaggerated sway to her steps.

“Tease,” he accused.

She laughed, linking her hand with his as she turned left down the hall. He didn't try and take his hand away. It felt good in hers and he was sick of denying himself. He was interested. She was obviously interested. What did he care about her big bad daddy, especially when the idiot refused to listen to him anyway?

She led him about halfway down the hall, pushing open the door to an old classroom tucked back in a corner. It was easy enough to tell it had been the art room. If the rows of cabinetry with its towering rack of faded colored butcher paper next to it hadn't given it away, the various works of art, both framed classics and classroom examples, hanging on the other wall would have.

It was also obvious that this wasn't the room's current purpose. Someone had dragged over enough mats from the gym that the floor was completely covered. That, along with the heavy-duty punching bag and small rack of free weights at one end, screamed personal gym. Almost too personal, because damn if that wasn't a cot tucked into the corner by the free weights.

“This your room?” he asked casually, all the while trying to ignore the overeager organ in his pants. To go from hand-holding to tossing her on that cot might be a little fast even for him.

“Like it?” she asked, walking over to the cabinets. He pulled his eyes away from the cot as she popped open the cabinet doors, revealing a virtual arsenal of hand-to-hand combat weapons.

He moved to stand beside her, the soft scent of her shampoo tickling his nose as he studied her collection. Brass knuckles, tiger claws, escrima sticks, nunchucks, sai, throwing stars and knives, regular knives, a manriki chain, and even fighting fans—all well worn and lovingly cared for.

“I like these.” He reached out to test the tip of the sai—not a practice instrument, at least not with a live partner. Of course, even the escrima sticks could be deadly if yielded with skill. “Do you know how to use all these?”

“Of course,” she scoffed.

“Who was your instructor?”

“Mostly my dad, but whenever we get a new recruit who has an expertise I normally charm some lessons out of them.”

His groin tightened, his imagination running away with the thought of her charming some lessons out of him too—though the lessons he would want to provide had nothing to do with the contents of that cabinet and everything to do with that cot in the corner.

“So, what's your poison?” she asked.

The knife, but he wasn't about to play around with a sharp object with her, and she didn't appear to have any sparring weaponry besides the escrima that didn't threaten stitches, and those were far from his favorite. “You don't appear to have any staffs.”

“Ah!” She moved down to a tall cabinet at the end and yanked it open. “Ta-da!” She waved her hands in a Vanna White imitation at the contents, which were, sure enough, a variety of fighting staffs.

His fingers began to itch. It had been a while since he'd had the time to devote to simple sparring. But he also didn't think he had the patience to play teacher tonight either. “You any good with them?”

“I'm good with all my weapons,” she replied and tossed a staff to him.

He snapped it out of the air, twisting it around a couple times to get a feel for its balance and weight. Perfect.

She smiled, grabbing her own staff and whirling it around in a pattern that suggested she wasn't too shabby with the weapon either.

Wanting to ensure that her proficiency extended to sparring, he moved into an easy pattern of strikes and jabs to test her skill at blocking that any student should know. She didn't disappoint, meeting each movement with its countermove and often following through with her own attack.

Their pace quickened, running through more complicated maneuvers, and soon enough he found that he was defending as much as attacking.

“You're good,” he said after one particularly powerful clash of their staffs, the vibration of the block running up his arm.

She wiggled her brow. “I know.”

He chuckled and, stepping back from the lock, quickly swung the staff around the other way. She blocked that too, countering with her own blow, which barely missed his side.

Oh, this is going to be bloody fun
, he thought, and stopped holding back.

They sparred for what seemed like forever but was really only a couple hours, still long enough to turn his muscles to liquid. Her stamina, like her skill with the staff, was amazing. She was amazing. And just plain comfortable to hang out with. Which was good considering they both were laying on the mats now panting like exhausted dogs.

“I think you could come teach some of my brothers a thing or two,” he said when he'd caught his breath enough to speak. Even as he suggested it, he didn't like the thought of bringing her anywhere near his brothers. There was no doubt that with her gift, they'd see her either as a weak link to be eliminated or almost as bad, a potential mate. Neither of which sat well with him.

“Hmmm…but what would I get in return?”

“You expect compensation?”

She rolled over onto her side, propping herself up with her elbow as she smiled down at him. “I always collect my payment.”

He stilled, his entire body tensing as she blatantly ogled his body. Predictably Mr. Thomas decided to put on a good showing, straining against his trousers.

She raised her gaze back to his face, her eyes twinkling. “Hmmm…and here I thought I'd worn you out too much for that.”

“I'm not at death's door yet.”

“So it's not just my amazing gift at revival?”

“That's a gift?”

She pulled off her top, then arched like a stretching cat on the mat as she slowly drew her arms up over her head and kept them there. “Isn't it?”

He groaned and, with an amazing burst of newfound energy, shifted over her. She was right; she did have a gift, because right now the heavy thud of his racing heart had nothing to do with exhaustion and everything to do with the woman staring expectantly up at him out of her golden eyes.

Damn, she was sexy. Her short spiky hair glowed like a sunset, framing the dramatic features of her face. Her nose might be considered a bit too long, her jaw too square, her lips a bit thin, though wide and nicely shaped. Possibly even her wide-set eyes could be considered almost eerie with their unnatural golden hue. But for him everything matched, melding together into a combination fit to inspire the most gifted of poets. Too bad he wasn't one. Though he could worship each and every one of her features in turn, first, though, he had to pay homage to the offerings she'd so generously given up to him.

Holding her gaze, he slid his hand up her torso to cup her breast. He'd known she didn't have much up top, but he was surprised how much he seemed to like the slight weight against the palm of his hand. She'd never get saggy, or need a bra, and the thought of her going around without one sent his heat levels to raging. And her nipples, the sweetest little nubs of pink against her creamy skin. He had to taste them.

Lowering his head, he pulled one of the rosy pink disks into his mouth, gently flicking the pebbled tip with his tongue. She gasped, lacing her fingers through his hair and digging into his scalp with her short little nails.

He shuddered, his pulse quickening at the evidence of her increasing desire. The fact that she had to communicate her need through such actions made it all the more exciting for him. To be able to concentrate on the sensations, to kiss her like this because
he
enjoyed doing so and not because of some twisted feedback loop his gift created from her pleasure. Not that he didn't want to please her—he did—but he knew, for once, that the trembling in his muscles that came with rising need was his,
all
his.

“Woman, you drive me mad.”

“Ditto,” she replied and wrapped her long legs around him. Oh lord, they fit just how he'd imagined, her ankles crossed behind his back, her heel digging into the cleft of his arse, and his erection grinding against that sweet, sweet juncture of bliss. And then she proceeded to rub herself against him in a way that had him practically weeping.

Can't take it. Have to be inside her now.