Spellbound (7 page)

Victoria glanced at Max, saw the set of his jaw and the corded veins in his temples as he poured gray magic out of his fingertips in crackling arcs of energy. He focused on one brother, his shoulders curling inward with the force with which he projected the power inside him.

As the insidious streams penetrated dark robes and charred moon-pale skin, the targeted brother screamed in agony. His siblings rushed to his aid, concentrating their attention on Max. Victoria continued to attack in the hopes of attracting fire in her direction. But in the face of the possible loss of one, the Triumvirate took her hits with admirable resilience.

The wards around Max began to ripple and bend, bowing to the greater might levered against the exterior. Blood trickled from one of his nostrils and his pain invaded her chest like a white-hot spear. Victoria wept, her stomach clenching with mindless terror. Memories of the night she'd lost Darius mingled with the horror of the present moment, creating a nightmare unparalleled.

The Triumvirate was too strong. Max would die.

Victoria screamed, unable to bear losing him.

Centuries alone . . . Afflicted by grief . . . Then Max had entered her life. Changing everything. Changing her. Making her whole again. Soothing her restlessness. Loving her despite her faults.

How will I live without you?

Then, with alarming swiftness, a solution presented itself in her mind, offering a slender ray of hope.

She could repeat the spell Darius had used, transferring the bulk of her power to Max. He would be stronger then, able to save himself and get away.

Do it.

Summoning every drop of magic she possessed, Victoria began to incant the spell she'd never forgotten. Could never forget because they'd been the last words Darius had spoken.

Pulled by an invisible thread, her power drew up and gathered, the sensation dizzying in its strength and strangeness. Her lips moved faster, the words flowing more freely.

“Victoria!” Max yelled, his shields moving sinuously in a herald to their rapidly approaching destruction.

It was her fault he was here, fighting a battle that was hers alone. It was love for her that had brought him to this end. It would be her love for him that would spare him.

“Max.”
Magic burst from Victoria in an explosion so powerful it brought her to her knees. It hit Max with such violence his body jerked as if physically struck. His wards restored to their rigid state and his bending arms straightened with renewed strength.

She gave all that she had to him, saving nothing for herself because her life would mean little without him. She wouldn't survive his loss. She'd barely survived Darius.

Max roared in triumph at the sudden, heady rush. A thin layer of warding separated from the one that shielded Max. It grew in size, expanding outward, encompassing the Triumvirate and preventing reinforcing power from the Source from reaching the brothers.

Unable to recharge his depleting strength, Max's target fell to his knees, crying out at his impending vanquishing.

Victoria watched through tear-filled eyes.

The Triumvirate draws strength from their numbers.

Darius's voice drifted through her mind. She and Max weren't alone. There were three of them, just as there were three of the brothers. And it was Christmas Eve. They had a fighting chance.

Using the very last of her strength, she sent one last volley toward the nearest brother. The impotent force of the blast was barely enough to draw his attention. But as she sank to her knees, his laser-bright gaze locked fully on her. She felt the satisfaction that gripped him at the sight of her weakened state. He would assume her support of Max was affecting her. He didn't know it was already too late.

Steeled for the inevitable blow, Victoria made no sound when the piercing evil of his strike sank deep into her chest, chilling her heart and slowing its beat. She bit her lip and fell to her hands, holding back any cry that might distract Max at the moment of triumph.

The alley began to spin and writhe. Another punishing blast struck her full on the crown of her head, knocking her to her back. Her skull thudded against the gritty, potted asphalt, and her sight dimmed and narrowed. Her ears rang, drowning out the sound of her racing pulse.

“Max . . . ,” she whispered, tasting the coppery flavor of blood on her tongue.

A blinding explosion of light turned the night into day. Sulfur filled her nostrils and burned her throat. The buildings around them shook with the impact, freeing a cloud of minute debris that mingled with the falling snow.

You did it, my love,
she thought as her limbs chilled.

“Victoria, no!”

Max's agonized cry broke her heart.

Icy snowdrops mingled with hot tears. In the sudden stillness, the distant sounds of Christmas songs and jingling bells tried to spread cheer. Instead it was a mournful requiem.

Her chest rose on a last breath.

I love you.

With Max on her mind and in her heart, Victoria died.

Two

Six hours earlier . . .

H
e was there, in the darkness. Watching her. Circling her.

His hunger wrapped around her, sharp and biting. Insatiable. It startled her sometimes, how ravenous he was. She could not temper or appease his desires.

She could only surrender. Submit. To them, to him.

Arching her back, her arms stretched the distance allowed by the silken bonds at her wrists, and her eyelids fluttered behind the red satin blindfold. Victoria stood, anchored, spread-eagled, her hands fisted around the forest green velvet ropes that extended from the ceiling. The colors of the season. More than mere sentimentality, it was a testament to Max's attention to detail. The same intense attention he paid to her body. He knew her inside and out, every curve and crevice, every dream and secret.

The sudden sharp smack of the crop against her bare buttocks made her hiss like the feline she was. The sting lingered, grew hot, made her writhe.

“Don't move, kitten,” Max rumbled, his deep voice a husky caress.

If only she could see him. Her feline sight could drink him in, worship him. He was so beautiful. So delicious. Her warlock. Hers.

His lust was a potent scent in the air, dark and alluring, powerful. It beaded her nipples, swelled her breasts, slicked her sex. Her mouth watered for the taste of his cock and she purred, the low rumble an unmistakable plea for more. Always more.

She was as insatiable as he, driven by a love so consuming and vital she wondered how she'd ever lived without it.

“Max,” she whispered, licking her lips. “I need you inside me.”

Magic rose in the air between them, his considerable power augmented by her Familiar gifts. Her collar tingled around her neck. It was invisible to mortals, but to other magickind it was a blatant and unmistakable symbol of Max's ownership. A simple black ribbon that proclaimed she was owned, loved, looked after, protected. She'd rejected that symbol of submission for centuries after Darius had perished. Then Max Westin hunted her, and she learned to love supplication.

Now they were rogues, tasked with only the most unwanted assignments, punished by the Council at every turn. The adversity only made their bond stronger, deepening their connection.

“I love you,” she breathed, arching in an effort to relieve the agonizing lust that consumed her. Her skin was hot and misted with sweat, desperate for the feel of his powerful body pressed to hers.

The scorching lash of a tongue on her beaded nipple made her cry out in near mindless longing.

“I love you, too,” he murmured, his breath humid against her newly dampened skin. She heard the crop clatter on the floor just before his large hands cupped her hips.

“Y-yes.” She swallowed hard. “Yes, Max.”

As his heated face pressed into the valley between her breasts, his hands slid around to cup her buttocks, his fingers kneading into the firm flesh. His touch was gentle and reverent, despite the savage need she smelled on him. He loved her so much, enough to temper his passion and control it. There was nothing in the world like being made love to with such ferocious intensity and focus. Victoria was addicted to the pleasure he bestowed with such expert detail.

“Fuck me,” she whispered through dry lips. “Gods, Max . . . I need your cock.”

“Not yet, kitten. I'm not done playing.”

She shuddered as his hot mouth wrapped around the aching tip of her breast. Panting, she writhed in his arms. “Damn you . . . you're killing me.”

The sound of the Boston Pops playing holiday songs flowed in from the living room stereo, mingling with the sound of rushing blood in her ears. Outside, the snow continued to fall unabated, blanketing the city in a pristine layer. It was beautiful, but deceptive. The hair on Victoria's nape rose and a trickle of sweat coursed down her temple. Dark, insidious magic lay in wait for them. The whistling of the wind against the windows gave proof of that.

We're waiting,
it whispered.

The sneering challenge of the Triumvirate given voice by the storm.

But here inside Max's vast loft apartment, she was shielded in a cocoon of desire and love. Together, their magic was a powerful force to be reckoned with. So far, they were undefeated. But they had never battled against any demon as close to the Source as the Triumvirate.

Think about me,
Max snarled, his fingers tightening on her delicate skin.

His words echoed through her mind, a manifestation of the soul-deep connection between Master and Familiar. Their tie had to be at its strongest, its deepest, if they had any hope of succeeding tonight.

Always,
she husked, wrapping her long legs around his lean waist. “It's always you.”

She was lifted by his power, raised high into the air as if supported by a harness. The blindfold fell away, leaving her blinking, her sight adjusting into the feline night vision that allowed her to see her lover in all his glory.

Max stood between her spread thighs, his dark hair dampened by sweat and clinging to his arrogant brow. His eyes were dark and shining, his skin golden, his musculature made visible by sharp sexual tension.

As his head lowered and his lips approached her quivering cleft, the depth of his desire flooded her mind in a ferocious growl that made her jolt within her bonds.

My beautiful kitty has a beautiful pussy,
he crooned.
Soft, sweet, and delicious.

Then his mouth was between her legs, his tongue slipping through the slick folds and stroking across her swollen clitoris. She arched into his grip, her body shivering with the delightful torment.

With dazed, heavy-lidded eyes, Victoria took in the view of a gorgeous man eating her out with helpless fascination. Their love only added to the eroticism of the moment. Max relished having her this way, craving the taste of her so strongly that he sucked her off daily, his enjoyment obvious in the hungry snarls that vibrated against her tender flesh. His pleasure spurred hers until it rode her hard, tearing her apart.

Her power rose with the ecstasy he dispensed with wicked skill, augmenting his, filling the loft until the wooden ceiling beams and floorboards creaked with the effort to contain it.

“Let me touch you,” she begged, her hands clenching and releasing restlessly. She could free herself easily, but she didn't. That made her submission even more valuable to him. He cherished her because of it, and she adored him for seeing it as the strength it was and not a weakness.

I want you like this.

She gasped as his lips circled her clitoris and he sucked, the pleasure radiating through her body in rolling waves. His tongue stroked rhythmically across the hardened bundle of nerves, making her pussy clench desperately in a silent plea to be filled.

“Max . . . ”

His head tilted and he lifted her higher, his tongue thrusting deep, fucking hard and fast into the melting, spasming depths of her.

Victoria keened, coming hard, her back bowing as the orgasm stole her sight. Magic exploded from her like ripples on water, pouring into Max until he shook as savagely as she did.

But he didn't stop.

His lips, tongue, and teeth continued to feast on her, groans spilling from his throat as he drank her down. The silky curtain of his hair brushed against her inner thighs, adding to the overwhelming barrage of sensation that assailed her. It would all be too much if not for his love, which anchored her in the maelstrom and prevented her from losing her mind.

“Oh gods, Max,” she whimpered, shivering with the aftershocks.

She'd never known sex could be so . . .
fervent
until she met Max. He took her body to places she hadn't known it could go. He allowed no barriers between them, no resistance.

Max released her wrists and she sank limply into his arms, her cheek falling to his shoulder and her lips touching his skin. The taste of him was an aphrodisiac, keeping her hot and wet. Hungry.

He set her carefully on her feet, then applied gentle but insistent pressure to her shoulders. “Suck my cock, kitten.”

She sank gracefully and gratefully to her knees, her mouth watering for the taste of him and the feel of that heavy, vein-lined shaft sliding over her tongue. She was desperate for it, her throat clenching in anticipation.

He held the weighty length in one tightfisted hand and guided the flushed, glistening head to her parted lips.

“Yeah,” he groaned, his chest heaving. “You look so beautiful when you're giving me head, baby.”

Hot and throbbing, Max's cock slid inexorably into her drenched mouth. Her hands cupped his buttocks and drew him closer, her throat working to swallow and lure him deeper.

He kept one hand fisted around the base so he didn't feed her too much. The other hand cupped her cheek, feeling her mouth worshiping his cock from the outside.