separated-by-a-dinner-table “be with him.”
It was an improvement over the summer and fall for them, to be sure—and not nearly enough.
Refocusing, she continued to search the environs for no good reason until all around her, darkness descended fast, the light draining out of the sky in the way of late December—which was to say, the shit flushed out like it was on the run, pursued by the cold.
Over to her left, at the mansion on the peninsula, lights came on rather suddenly, as if Assail had shutters on the inside of all his glass: One moment the property was unlit; the next it was like a football stadium.
Ah, yes, the gentlemale Assail… not.
The guy’s hold on the drug scene in Caldwell was nearly secure, with no one of any significance left other than that big-fish supplier Benloise. What she couldn’t figure out was who the vampire’s troops were. He couldn’t be operating a business that involved by himself, and yet there was never anyone coming or going from his house other than him.
Then again, why would he want his associates in his private space?
A little later, a car eased down the lane, heading out. That Jaguar of his.
Man, bitch needed to invest in an armor-plated Range Rover. Or a Hummer like Qhuinn’s. The Jag was fast, and suited the motherfucker, but come on. Little traction in all this snow was never a bad idea.
The sports car slowed to a stop as it approached her, its exhaust curling around and glowing in the red tail lights like something a magician would call up onstage.
A window went down and a male voice said, “Enjoying the view?”
The temptation was to flip him off, but she kept her middle finger sheathed as she crunched through the drifts to him. At this point, Assail was not viewed as a “suspect,” per se—he had done nothing but help the Brotherhood get Wrath out of there when the assassination attempt had gone down. But still, the attack had occurred at his house, and she wondered about where Xcor was getting his financial resources: Assail had had money even before he’d decided to be a drug kingpin, and wars required cash.
Especially if you were trying to fight the king.
Focusing her
Assail liked sex with chicks. Fine. Got it.
Beneath that testosterone surge, however, she found a hunger for power that was curious. It wasn’t about taking down the king, though. It was…
“Reading my mind?” he drawled.
If only he knew what he was talking to. “You’d be surprised what I can find out about people.”
“So you know I want you.”
“I would suggest you don’t go there. I’m mated.”
“So I’ve heard. But where’s your man.”
“Working.”
As he smiled, the lights of the dashboard picked up his features, highlighting them and making them even more handsome. But he wasn’t just a pretty boy: There was a lick of evil in those heated eyes of his.
Dangerous male. Even though he looked like he was nothing more than a coiffed member of the
“Well,” he murmured, “you know what they say. Too much time apart makes the heart grow—”
“Tell me something. You see Xcor around anywhere?”
That shut him up. And lowered his lids.
“I have no idea,” he said after a moment, “why you’d ask me that.”
“Oh, really.”
“Not a clue.”
“I know what happened at your house in the fall.”
There was a another pause. “I wouldn’t have thought that the Brotherhood mixed business with pleasure.” When she just stared at him, he shrugged. “Well, frankly, I can’t believe they’re still looking for him. Matter of fact, it’s a surprise that that bastard is still breathing.”
“So you’ve seen him lately.”
At that, his grid lit up in one specific sector—obstruction. He was hiding something from her.
She smiled coldly. “Haven’t you, Assail.”
“Listen, I’m going to give you some free advice. I know you’re all leather wearing and tough and a self- actualized female of the world, but you don’t want to have anything to do with that guy. Have you seen what he looks like? You’re mated to a pretty boy like John Matthew, you don’t need—”
“I’m not looking to fuck the bastard.”
Her deliberately crass language made him blink. “Indeed. And, ah, good for you. As for myself, I haven’t seen him. Not even that night he ambushed Wrath.”
Liar, she thought.
When Assail spoke next, his voice was very low. “Leave that male alone. You don’t want to get in his path —he’s got less mercy than I have.”
“So you think only the big boys should deal with him.”
“You got it, sweetheart.”
As he put the Jag in gear, she stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest. Too frickin’ typical. What was it about the cock and balls that made males think they had a lock on strength?
“I’ll see you around, neighbor,” she drawled.
“I’m serious about Xcor.”
“Oh, I can tell you are.”
He shook his head. “Fine. It’s your funeral.”
As he drove off, she thought, Wrong pronoun there, buddy. Wrong goddamn pronoun…
FIFTY-FOUR
Autumn was dead asleep when she was joined in the bed, but even in her deep, nearly painful repose, she knew whose hands came upon her skin, and traveled over her hip, and eased up her stomach. She knew exactly who cupped her breasts and rolled her over.
For sex.
Cool air hit her skin as the covers were folded aside, and on instinct she parted her legs, preparing to welcome the one male she would e’er take within her.
She was ready for Tohrment. Had seemed in recent weeks to always be ready for him.
Handy—as he would have said. As he was always ready for her.
Her great warrior found his way between her thighs, opening them further with his hips—no, those were now his hands, as if he had had one plan and then changed his mind—
His mouth found her, locking on, then licking.
With her eyes still closed and her mind in that fuzzy netherworld that was neither sleep nor awakening, the pleasure was so intense she bucked and thrashed against his tongue, giving herself over to him with everything she had as he sucked and teased and penetrated.…
Except there was no orgasm for her. No matter how much he pleasured her.
Try as she might to capture the release, she couldn’t fall off the edge, pleasure sharpening to the point of agony—and still she could find no climax, even as sweat beaded up her skin, and breath sawed in her throat.
Desperation made her grab his head and press him harder against her.
Except then he disappeared.
This was naught but a nightmare, she thought as she cried out at the denial. A torturous dream with erotic overtones—
Tohrment surged back at her, and this time it was his full body against her own. Tucking his arms behind her knees, he split her wide as he cranked her into a tight little ball underneath his great weight.
