His hold tightened, and his other hand flattened against her lower back, bending her. A slow blink revealed a new light in his eyes. “Threatening me is not a good idea, little one.”
“Heed the threat. You have no idea who you mated.”
“Neither do you.” His nostrils flared, apparently catching a scent.
Blast it. He could smell her arousal. This was beyond twisted. She shoved both hands against his chest.
His instant smile was carnal. Dangerous. Knowing. “Maybe it’s time I showed you.”
Icy-hot whispers tingled along her skin. “I don’t think so.”
Deadly fangs dropped low.
Waves of heat cascaded up her chest, lifting her chin, burning with need. Just from a look at those fangs.
Enough. Releasing his chest, she dropped down, used his hand as a base, and flipped backward. She landed on her feet, her hair swirling around.
She had a half a second to appreciate the surprise on his face before he moved. His hand fisted in the center of her shirt, and he yanked her against him. Hard. She opened her mouth to protest, but it was too late.
His fangs retracted as his mouth crushed hers. Anger rode his kiss, and he plundered deep, showing her in no uncertain terms who was stronger. Not only physically, but as he softened his assault, as he shot fire through her until her ears rang, he showed her true strength. After one night with him, he controlled her responses. He could make her want on demand. Possibly from the mating, from the marking . . . but more likely from Jase himself. The man was sex, danger, and fire combined.
She whimpered in her throat, her eyes fluttering shut. Desire slashed with jagged edges as it ripped into her.
His kiss held nothing back. No smoothness—no persuasion. He took everything she had and then demanded more. Demanded everything. The male wasn’t taking no for an answer.
Furious hunger moved his mouth across hers, a hunger that dug down deep in her belly and clawed.
Yanking back, he whipped her shirt over her head. A second later her yoga pants hit the floor. He bent her forward over the back of the couch. “Tell me it’s okay,” he rumbled, his voice beyond gravel to asphalted spikes.
Her stomach rubbed against the leather, while cool air brushed her bare backside. Need and want had her vision blurring. “It’s okay. Hurry.” Was that her voice? Husky and needy?
His zipper rasped. She shivered. Both hands grabbed her hips and he plunged inside her with one strong stroke. Crying out, she lifted up on her tiptoes.
He stilled, his breath heated on the nape of her neck. “Breathe, baby,” he whispered.
Breathe? She forced out air, her entire body short-circuiting from too many sensations. Hunger—pain— pleasure. Slowly, she dropped down.
Reaching around, he palmed her breast, tugging the nipple. Shards of electricity shot straight to her sex. “What are you doing?” she panted.
“Whatever I want to do.”
The dominant tone, edged with dark amusement, almost threw her into an orgasm. Panic inched for a foothold, and she tried to rise.
His hand flattened on her bottom, right across the still burning marking. A quiver shook her. She swallowed, fighting to remain sane while her body went crazy. She felt taken, all control stolen from her, and somehow, she wanted nothing more than to beg him to continue. To start moving. To take her over that pinnacle where the need wouldn’t hurt so badly. “Jase—start moving. Now.”
His low rumble of a laugh brushed her ear. “I’ll accept begging or whimpering from you, darlin’. But your time for commanding has passed.” With a sharp tug on her nipple, his hand slid down and pressed on her clit.
“Oh God,” she moaned.
“Praying will do.” He touched where she was stretched around his cock. One wet finger ran up to circle her clit. She hissed at the blast of sensation. He played, making circles, torturing until her internal walls clenched him hard enough that she gasped. She tried to rub against him, to get relief, but he held her tight.
Then that dangerous hand ran up her torso to grip her neck, his thumb under her chin. Pressing up, he tilted her head. She couldn’t move. Controlled by one thumb.
Warmth brushed her spine as he covered her.
She tensed, expecting fangs. Instead, he licked the vulnerable area where neck met shoulder. The gentle touch pounded fire through her. Then his fangs dropped low.
Her head jerked, but he held fast. He drank, a groan of pleasure rumbling from him. The groan slid under her skin and into her heart. She could already feel his reactions. Opening herself, she tried for a connection.
A hard slap against her marking caught her unaware. She opened her mouth in shock as vibrations shot straight to her core.
His fangs retracted and a rough tongue laved her wound. “Stay out of my head.” The order held bite and a hint of fury. He grabbed her hips and slid out only to thrust back in.
Nerves flared inside her. God. Too much. Way too much. She pressed her face against the sofa.
Pleasure coiled tight inside her, climbing higher. His grip bruised as he yanked her bottom higher, driving his shaft deep. Harder and faster, he pounded until she forgot all thought. She forgot the world. The only thing that mattered was that edge she needed to scale.
His fingers tangled in her hair, drawing up her head. Arching her back. Controlling her so easily.
Muscled thighs pushed hers even farther apart. He thrust hard, his balls slapping against her butt. The hold on her hair tightened.
“Now, Brenna.”
A rush of energy gathered in one place inside her and detonated. Shock caught her at how quickly her body obeyed his order. She screamed his name as white-hot lava sprayed through her in cresting waves. Riding them, she could only shut her eyes and be swept along.
With a clenching of his hand and a growl of her name, he ground against her as he came.
They came down together, both panting.
His fingers spread along her scalp, rubbing gently. Slowly, he withdrew from her. She moaned as her internal walls protested.
He lifted her, tucking her head under his chin. Striding toward the bedroom, he crossed the darkness and slid her gently into bed. Turning, he headed for the doorway and stopped. The living room light illuminated him, a strong silhouette of maleness.
His shoulders straightened, his back to her. “Are you all right?”
The sheer number of emotions shooting from him nearly stole her breath. She could read him now, whether he liked it or not. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m fine.”
He gave a short nod. “Sleep now. I’ll be back later.”
Then he was gone.
Brenna worked all morning in her Dublin office, fingers tapping the computer keys, finishing the reports on Coven Nine grants. Several Dublin businesses would be able to climb out of debt now. The computer light spread softly across her pristine desk, while a snowstorm bombarded the windows.
Deb reached inside the office and flipped on the light. “Why in the world do you work in the dark?”
Brenna shrugged and shut down the computer. “It’s peaceful.” She’d placed rich oil paintings on the two side walls, and in the dusky light, the fighting figures came alive.
Deb followed her gaze. “I’ve always wondered why you chose battle scenes for your Coven Nine office.”
“Because we’re always at war.” Sad, but true. Even before the current war, the witch world was tumultuous. “Take a species that can manipulate space and matter . . .”
Deb loped inside to drop into one of two plush guest chairs. “So.”
“So.” Brenna studied her best friend. They’d become inseparable in kindergarten when Tommy McMannis had thrown a frog at Brenna’s head. Deb had instantly tackled him into a rosebush. “What have you heard?”
