Seduced by the Storm (27 page)

He
trailed his tongue over her belly, rimmed her navel until she began to whimper
and pump her pelvis against him wantonly.

"Easy,"
he murmured. He opened his mouth against her mound and blew hot air over her
sex. "You’re a greedy little thing."

"Always."
She’d barely got the word out when his fingers delved between her labia and
made her gasp.

"God,
you’re wet. So sexy…" He grasped her hand, brought it down so she could
feel her own silken cream. "I like that I do this to you."

She
shuddered with pleasure, let him guide her fingers through her slit and into
her core, spreading her moisture up to her swollen bud. Bolts of pleasure shot
through her as he worked her delicate flesh with her hand. Every skimming pass
across her clit made her writhe, needing a firmer stroke, but he took his time,
torturing her slowly.

Finally,
he arranged her fingers so she was forced to spread herself wide for him. She
watched as he lowered his head between her thighs, and she cried out when the
first firm stab of his tongue pierced her pussy.

He
lapped at her as if he was starving, pushing his tongue deep inside and then swiping
upward in a long, hot stroke. One finger dipped into her wet hole, caressing
the inner pillow of nerves with superlight, circular sweeps. She writhed and
groaned in desperate urgency. Little flicks of his tongue at the very tip of
her clit made her buck, but when he rolled it between his lips and drew on it
like a straw, she came apart violently, punching her head back into the pillow
and pumping against his mouth.

An
entire ocean of ecstasy crashed over her until she was practically drowning
with breathlessness. Before it was over, he reared up and entered her,
stretching and filling her. He took her mouth with as much enthusiasm as he
took her body, and yet none of the tenderness from before had been lost.

He
kissed her like she was more than a temporary diversion. He kissed her like she
was his mission, and his goal was to make her feel more special than she’d ever
felt with any man.

Mission
accomplished.

Something
was shifting inside her, changing her, because she’d never felt this way
before. He challenged her, fired her up, made her feel feminine, whole,
protected.

She
hugged him to her, with her arms, her legs, her sheath. Tightening everything,
locking him down and inside her, she welcomed every slow thrust, relished every
groan that dredged up from deep inside his chest.

Clinging
to his shoulders, she reveled in the flex of his muscles, his strength, his
devastating skill in bed, in battle, in everything he did from flying a
helicopter to fucking. Searing pleasure speared her, and she arched against
him, encouraging him to hammer into her, but he maintained his torturous pace.

The
crisp hair on his chest tickled her breasts as he moved against her. His richly
textured cock slid in and out, the head catching on the tight ring of her
entrance, where the nerves popped. She felt it all at ten times the normal
sensitivity, and as another climax grabbed her, she screamed ten times louder
too.

"Ah,
fuck," Wyatt groaned, finally unleashing into her with an intensity that,
for all of their wild couplings, seemed even more raw, more ferociously carnal.

She
dug her nails into his back and he came with a roar, his hips hammering into
her without mercy. A rush of warmth filled her as his seed did the same. He
shuddered and collapsed on top of her, shifted his weight to the right just
enough so she could breathe.

"Jesus,"
she said, when she could talk again.

"Yeah."
His breath fanned over her neck, sending pleasant little shivers down her
spine.

She
knew what he meant. With that one softly spoken word, she knew that, like her,
he hadn’t made love to anyone like that before, so intensely, drawing it out.

"We
have all night, yeah?"

He
nodded weakly. "Wanna eat first?"

Her
stomach chose that moment to growl. "I could do grub. Lots and lots of
grub."

"And
beer."

"Beer
is good."

She
felt him smile against the skin of her throat, realized with a start that not
once during their lovemaking had she thought about her exposed scar, even when
he’d pressed his lips to it.

Ruthlessly,
she shoved away the significance of that thought. This was nice, but nothing
more than a diversion, no matter how thoroughly Wyatt had kissed her and
touched her and made her want more.

It
had to be, because once they left the safe house, the mission started again,
and though he had no way of knowing, they would soon be rivals again.

Creed
stretched out on the couch and tried to get lost in an old black-and-white
horror movie until he had to be back at HQ for hurricane prep. Annika had left
sometime after ten—she had an evening martial arts class to teach at ACRO.
Where she’d no doubt run into Devlin.

His
fists clenched involuntarily at the thought of Devlin’s name, and yeah, that
was still a sore spot between them.

It
was one of the many reasons why they couldn’t come to an agreement over whether
or not Creed should give up Kat. Although Annika’s admission in Greece the
other night had gone a long way in Creed’s decision-making process.

He’d
just need to speak with Oz about it.

Oz.
Just thinking the name made him double over in
sudden, excruciating pain. He rolled off the couch and found himself crawling
toward the door, breathing heavily as though he were dragging a thousand pounds
behind him.

Kat
was literally on him, nearly choking him, trying to pull him away from the
door. And she was nearly succeeding too.

Oz’s
face flashed in front of his eyes—his friend, brother in ghost-hunting arms—and
the pain got worse. He managed to pull himself to his feet, hung on to the hall
table while Kat tried to pull him back down again.

"Back
off, Kat," he whispered, his gut cramping as if he were breaking in two.
It was like fighting a hurricane, and he was losing. "Stop fighting
me."

But
Kat began to wail and Creed felt the sudden sharp pain in his heart, a
premonition of something he couldn’t comprehend.

He
needed to get to Oz, to Dev. Something was very, very wrong.

DEV
LAID HIS HEAD against Oz’s chest, listening to the other man’s steady
heartbeat, and thought about how good it was to finally be home.

There
was a lot to deal with, at ACRO and beyond, especially in regard to his own
lineage as the reluctant son of Itor, but at the moment he felt on top of the
world, as if he could handle anything. And tonight he didn’t want to think on
anything ACRO-related, which was why he didn’t bother to pick up the phone he
heard ringing downstairs.

"You’re
really not going to get that?" Oz asked.

"I’m
going to fly again, you know," Dev said instead of answering Oz’s
question. He spoke into the dark and felt Oz shift beneath him.

"I
figured there’d be no way to stop you."

"You’ll
come up with me, right?" he asked, pictured the view of the horizon he’d
had from the cockpit right before Darius had possessed him for the second time,
eleven years earlier, the possession that took his sight. And he was all right
with remembering that horrible day, all the terrible days when Darius tried to
possess his soul in order to use him as a vehicle for revenge against Itor—the
memories, for better or worse, were all back. He was healing. No more
surprises, and that made him smile…until he felt the cold.

He
sat up quickly, arms folded around his chest. "Shit, Oz, do you feel
that?"

Oz
was up next to him in a second, a protective hand on Dev’s shoulder. "What
do you feel?"

"Freezing.
I’m fucking freezing." He could barely get the words out. His throat
constricted with the sensation of a hand squeezing it. "It hurts,
Oz."

His
body was being invaded again, much more forcefully than the last time—and oh,
God, this couldn’t be happening again. They’d gotten rid of it…

Never
getting rid of me,
Darius whispered,
and the choke hold on Dev’s windpipe grew stronger.
Mine.

"Not…yours,"
he croaked, flashed back to four months earlier when Darius had invaded his
body, intent on full possession. Oz had gotten rid of the ghost then—he could
do it this time too. And so Dev reached out for Oz, but his lover’s hand was no
longer on his shoulder. "Oz, please."

"I’m
here, Dev." Oz’s voice sounded sure and strong, much stronger than Dev had
ever heard it before. "Darius, you get your dirty hands off him. He’s not
the one you really want."

What
was Oz talking about? He struggled to turn to see Oz, but realized that he was
surrounded by darkness. "No," he whispered, rubbed his eyes
desperately. Darius had taken his sight away again.

I
want Devlin,
Darius whispered.

"Devlin
doesn’t have the means to get what you want. But I’ve got it—I know the way to
take down Devlin’s father once and for all. But in order for you to gain that
information, you have to come to me."

To
you,
Darius repeated, releasing some
of his grip on Dev’s throat. Dev coughed and choked and tried to turn on his
CRV to see what the hell was happening, but he couldn’t—he was trapped in the
dark and the cold and Oz was doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

"Come
to me," Oz commanded. "Move to inside me, and I’ll grant your every
fucking wish, Darius. Your every desire for revenge—I’ll carry it out.
Together, we’ll take down Itor. I know what needs to be done."

You’ll
carry it out,
Darius repeated Oz’s
words again, as though Oz was hypnotizing the ghost, and Dev felt some of the
warmth come back into his body.

"I’m
stronger than Devlin, always have been. I have more resources. You don’t need
Dev’s bloodlines to take down Alek—you need the resources from my spirit
world."

"Oz,
no," Dev whispered as a deadly sense of dread climbed his spine. His lover
was pushing the boundaries, playing a very dangerous game with Darius—one that
Oz could potentially become trapped by.

"You
come to me, only me. That’s the deal," Oz continued. "Possess me,
bond with me. No escape for either of us, Darius, no way out."

You’d
go far to save your lover,
Darius
said. A bond was much stronger than a possession—once you invited a ghost
inside, getting him out typically required death of the human.

Death
of a human.
Devlin began to
hyperventilate.

"I’d
go further to destroy Itor," Oz said. "I’d go further than Dev ever
could."

"No."
Dev wanted to scream the word, but it came out as a whisper. Within seconds,
his body was his own once again, and his vision clicked into place, in time to
see Oz drop to his knees, face contorted in pain.

He
was taking Darius inside him, bonding with a ghost bent on revenge. Dev watched
helplessly as the man he’d loved since he was seventeen allowed it to happen.

Darius
is gone, right, Oz?

You’re
safe, Devlin.

It
was only now that Dev realized Oz hadn’t lied—he’d just avoided Dev’s question.
Darius had never been gone for good, would never be until the spirit died after
bonding with a human.

Oz
was about to sacrifice himself.

When
Oz’s eyes met his, Dev knew exactly what he needed to do to save Oz, knew he
needed to get Darius back inside of him to stop Oz and his plan.

Devlin
also knew that Oz would never, ever allow that to happen. As if reading Dev’s
mind, Oz struggled to his feet and toward the door. Dev flew off the bed to
stop him, but found himself held back by strong hands—not Darius’s, but others,
Oz’s spirit posse, as the grip wasn’t unkind or painful, just necessary to keep
Devlin in place.

"Don’t
you dare do this to me—not like this, Oz," he called, because Oz was
searching the cabinet frantically as the floor began to shake.

When
Oz turned to face Devlin, he held the silver pistol in his hands, the one
Devlin had gotten from his father when he was eighteen and just accepted into
the Air Force Academy. Oz nodded as if to reassure him, and then he pointed the
gun inward, toward his chest.

Pictures
came off the wall, the entire house seemed to howl with grief and Oz struggled
to keep the gun steady.

"No!"
Dev heard himself roar, but Oz fired, two shots, which Dev knew would echo in
his mind for the rest of his life, and still Oz kept his eyes on Dev, even as
he began to slide to the floor.

"He’s
still alive—let me go," Dev shouted as the mournful screams filled his
ears, and the spirit posse had no choice but to release him.

They
were dying too—again—just the way Oz was.