bedeviled & beyond 06 - bedeviled & befouled (26 page)

My fingers stiffened against his scalp and my muscles grew taut as release danced just out of reach. When his lips increased their pressure on my sexual core, I felt the edge of my resistance crumbling out from under me. A wash of heat bloomed, ushering a wave of pleasure as my body finally succumbed to release.

I cried out, my hands convulsing in his hair, and let the delicious feelings spread like an explosion through my thrashing limbs. My channel was still convulsing in the aftermath as he climbed my body and buried himself deep.

Fire blossomed. Searing me with pleasure. My channel accepted his rigid girth and embraced it in a softly convulsive grip. He sucked in a surprised breath as the final contractions of my orgasm milked his flesh. His mouth covered mine in a ravenous kiss.

His lips moved hungrily over mine. Tasting, exploring, and savoring the touch of our skin, the sweet taste of lust, and the muted promise the touch engendered. He moaned softly as he thrust within me. Flame surrounded us, crackling and flaring in multi-colored hues that grew higher as the fever built.

As my pleasure heightened, I became aware of another sensation, a separate, biting need that compelled me to words when I would have preferred just to embrace sensation. My throat burned where Dialle had once marked me. As if drawn to the sting there, Dialle’s lips left mine and travelled lower, finding the exact spot and tasting it.

Sparks spit at his touch, delicious pain seared, and in that moment I knew.

“Mark me, Dialle.”

His head came up and a black gaze, swirling with the colors of passion, met mine. “Are you certain, my love?”

I swallowed hard, terrified. Not at the idea of being forever and completely joined with my delicious devil, but that I would let him down again. Losing my magic had turned me into someone I hadn’t recognized. It had changed me...irrevocably. Though I had my magic back I knew I was no longer the person I’d once been.

I was older, yes. Wiser, definitely. But I was also more. So much more. That was when doubt fled me. In that moment I realized. Whatever I was...whatever I’d become...I was Dialle’s and he was mine.

And we would make the most of every moment we were destined to share.

“Yes. I’ve never been more sure.”

The reds and purples of passion whirled more swiftly in his black-velvet gaze and his lips curved upward in a heart-rending smile. “I do love you, Astra Q Phelps.”

“I love you too, Dialle the Second. But more than that. I need you. I need you more than anything. And that doesn’t even scare me anymore.”

He touched my lips in a tender kiss and arched his hips to thrust deep. I threw back my head in a delighted gasp and his mouth covered the tender spot that called to him.

Pain. Fierce and crisp. An exquisite ache shot through me as his fangs pierced my skin. I screamed long and hard—not with agony, but from the unparalleled bliss of his marking. My body trembled under an inconceivable groundswell of pure delight, wave after wave of it crashing through me.

Bright, colorful lights flashed before my eyes. Flame engulfed us, sizzling but not burning, simply mirroring our sensual journey. My channel convulsed in the most violent orgasm I’d ever experienced.

Suddenly I wanted Dialle to enjoy the same pleasure he was giving me. My lips found a tender spot at the base of his throat and I sucked it, hard, biting down as he threw back his head and screamed with pleasure.

His shaft spasmed hard in my channel as he came, his fingers sliding into my hair to hold me against his throat. For just a split second our pleasure became one, morphing into something so strong it swept me over into another violent release.

I moaned his name, my voice husky with emotion, as I convulsed around him again. Moments later we sagged down onto the bed, spent and weak from the power of our joining.

Dialle pulled me close and kissed my forehead, his touch exquisitely tender. I nestled close with a sigh. “Every time just gets better and better.”

“Yes.” He kissed my lips softly, with lingering tenderness. “Thank you, my love.”

I sighed. “For what?”

“For letting me claim you again. This mark will not break. It is forged under mutual love and need.”

I nodded, pulling one of his fingers into my mouth to nibble and suck. He closed his eyes, smiling. I grinned, my devil coming out in a big way as I saw him relaxing. I reached to touch the spot on his throat where I’d bitten him. It was marked with a tear-shaped daemon hickey, which I suspected matched the one he’d just given me. “This one too?”

His eyes flew open as I touched it.

“Astra...”

“I giggled.”

“Astra, please tell me you did not do it again.”

I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe.

“Frunk me to Hades, woman! You did not mark me again?”

I reached for the mark and caressed it. Dialle went limp with pleasure. “Come on, is it really that bad?”

He groaned, reaching for me. “I will once again be the laughing stock of the court.” But when his eyes opened they swirled with passionate colors, a bright icon of his sexual intent. “You will pay for that, my queen.” He covered me, framing my face with his hands as he tucked his hips and thrust deep.

I sucked in a delighted breath as he filled me. “I know. And I plan to enjoy every minute of it.”

Visit Sam’s website for buy links and excerpts for all the
Bedeviled & Beyond
books!
http://www.samcheever.com/series.html

Enjoyed
the Bedeviled & Beyond
sci fi/paranormal world? You might want to check out my other sci fi/paranormal series. To get you started, accept my gift of Chapter One of
Apocalyptic Mojo
, Book 1 of my fun and sexy
Apocalyptic
series!

~AM~

What do a time traveling witch and a Sorceri bounty hunter have in common? Not a damn thing! Well...except for some sizzling hot love mojo!

The Epoch Mages and the Sorceri Bounty Hunters are ALWAYS on opposite sides of any issue. They H-A-T-E each other. But when a rogue witch decides to take over the world using flesh-eating zombies, Ardith and Draigh have to work together to stop her. And though they’ve twisted themselves inside out trying to deny their blistering desire for each other, they soon learn they’ll need to work together to accomplish what many before them have failed to do. Yep, it’s all gonna be downhill from there!

CHAPTER ONE

“Whore!”

“Temptress!”

“Darling!”

Ardith blinked, looked around at the sea of shocked, angry faces, and then glanced down at the black leather bustier and micro-mini she’d returned in.

Oops. She’d come to a seventeenth-century party in a twenty-first century dress.

She glared into the leering face of the last speaker, his red-veined nose telling her everything she needed to know about his doubtful judgment. “Les’ kiss.” He puckered wet, rubbery lips and swayed in her direction.

A low rumbling sound caused the old drunk to wobble and blink. He slowly looked down at the set of massive white teeth vibrating mere inches from his crotch.

“I’d advise you to step back, sir. My dog hasn’t eaten for a while and he’s very hungry.”

The man’s mouth worked in silent terror, his bloodshot eyes bulging as he stared at the huge, golden wolfhound with snapping silver eyes.

Sirius snarled, spittle spraying around his snapping jaws in shiny strings.

“Arghh.” The old drunk stumbled backward.

“Always the grand entrance, eh, Ardith?”

She looked toward the new voice. Upon Blackthorne’s arrival, the outraged villagers had all slithered quietly away. He had that effect on people.

The enormous, ebony-skinned mage strode in her direction, his massive form covered, per usual, entirely in black. He reached down to scratch the perfect, white star on the top of Sirius’ wide, golden head. “Hey, boy.”

Sirius gave Blackthorne’s hand a wet kiss and dropped to his haunches.

“Yeah, my bad,” Ardith responded with a grin.

His smooth, ebony forehead crinkled as he tried to decipher her response. Theirs was truly a meeting of old and new. Ardith had been born in 1984 and, though Blackthorne wouldn’t tell her how old he was, she knew he’d been around during the Salem witch trials. In fact, he’d been one of the founders of the current council, created to ensure that a repeat of the trials never occurred.

“Your bad what?”

Ardith nodded toward the hooded robe he carried over one black leather-covered arm. “That for me?”

He opened the black silk robe and dropped it over her shoulders. As she stepped into it, his huge hands squeezed her shoulders with fatherly affection. Blackthorne had recruited Ardith right out of high school and trained her to be an epoch mage. Ardith’s feelings for the man were a combination of affection and deep respect. Blackthorne gave every indication of returning those feelings.

Ardith stepped out of his grasp and fell in beside him as they headed toward the council chambers.

“What did you learn?” he asked her.

Ardith sighed. “Nothing good. Edwige has not ceased her activities as we’d hoped. In fact, all signs indicate she’s stepped them up. The government has been trying to keep it quiet but it’s getting too big to ignore. A quiet investigation is about to blow up into a massive search if we don’t step in and stop her.”

They climbed the sparkling white stairs to the council building, which masqueraded as the Salem Social Club. Despite its name, the club was not open to the general public.

Blackthorne said nothing as they entered the cool, dimly lit foyer, crossed the marble floor and climbed a wide, sweeping staircase to the second level, where the council sat during formal meetings. The chamber was mostly empty at the moment, but as they pushed through the heavy wood doors Ardith quickly realized it wasn’t nearly empty enough.

Sirius’ hair stood on end, his silver eyes sparking as his massive body trembled with barely restrained fury. Ardith placed her hand on his back, between his shoulder blades, to stay him just until she figured out if he had reason to attack.

Ten feet away, standing with feet spread wide, massive arms crossed over his chest, the devil himself glared at her with an ice-blue gaze. Draigh Piers, Sorceri level five and massive thorn in her side, radiated hostility like waves of poisonous magic. “What is
she
doing here?”

Ardith went rigid. How dare he? “What am
I
doing here? The sheer size of your balls is only matched by the blackness of your soul, evil sorceri. I belong here.
You
, on the other hand, are a massive tumor on the backside of this building.”

Reacting to her anger, Sirius snapped his jaws, flinging spittle in a wide arc.

Ardith turned to Blackthorne. “Just say the word and Sirius and I will take care of this...growth...for you.”

Draigh’s arms dropped, his huge hands fisting over the set of deadly knives sheathed against his hip bones. “Try, witch. I welcome the exercise.”

“Stand down. Both of you.”

Ardith’s bright-green gaze slid sideways. Blackthorne’s boss, Lady Penelope, was draped carelessly across a padded chair. The epoch mages in the club all joked about the chair being her throne.

She certainly gave off an air of being worthy of one.

“Ardith, my girl, I invited Mr. Piers into the chamber.”

“Why? It certainly seems...”

“Shut up, girl!”

Ardith snapped her mouth closed. She could feel Draigh’s amusement at her dressing down. It made her spine even more rigid. “Please accept my apology, my lady.”

Lady Penelope held her in a sharp black gaze. Despite the woman’s delicate physique, she was every inch the mage she was reputed to be. Power vibrated almost visibly beneath her porcelain skin. “Your passion is an asset, Ardith, but don’t let it get in the way of your brain.” She glanced toward Draigh while addressing someone else. “Huntsman, do we have your word that your hunter will work equably with my mage?”

Ardith’s mouth opened in automatic rejection of the idea. A sorceri bounty hunter working alongside an epoch mage? Impossible. It was unheard of. They’d kill each other.

Particularly when she was the mage and Draigh was the hunter. They’d bumped up against each other several times over the years and had always ended up in battle. Ardith believed that problems were solved through arrest and discussion, while Draigh generally solved his problems with violence...mostly assassination. Their differences didn’t exactly engender a spirit of cooperation.

A man stepped forward from the shadows and Ardith sucked in a surprised breath. The Huntsman, leader of the Sorceries authority—bounty hunters for the magical realm—was known for his ability to blend into his surroundings, becoming all but invisible. It was the first time she’d experienced it firsthand.

He was a small round man with a balding head. He looked harmless and weak, like Lady Penelope. But like her, he was much more powerful than he appeared. He inclined his head. “My Lady. We have committed to working side by side with your people to solve this problem.”

“Sir!” Draigh roared.

The Huntsman’s head whipped around, his fleshy face reddening with rage. “Hunter.”

“I will not work with that...creature. I can find this rogue witch on my own.”

“Just as you have in the last weeks, hunter?” The Huntsman’s hands lifted away from his body, sparks flying from his fingertips as he fought to contain his rage.

The air thickened with spilled magic as the two men faced off.

A low rumble trembled on the thickening air. Ardith scratched Sirius’ head. “Steady, boy. This doesn’t concern us.” Her faithful friend quieted but he vibrated beneath her fingertips, ready to spring.

Draigh threw Ardith a look filled with undisguised hatred. “I refuse to work with her.”

The Huntsman seemed to grow several inches as he faced off with his inferior. “You will do as you’re commanded, hunter!”

The two men stood at an impasse for several beats and then the air started to soften as Draigh reigned in his anger, finally inclining his head toward his boss. “As you command, sir.”