Ghost Phoenix (16 page)

She blushed. Great. That was a perfect way to show she didn't do this often. “So, uh, I guess you think I'm okay.”

“When I call you Angel, it means you should be worshipped. And I intend to do so.”

“But you're more beautiful, I mean, gorgeous, I mean, hotter than me!”

She grabbed a pillow and pulled it over her face. Gah. She was ruining this. At least she hadn't called him
cute
. No chance of that. Cute didn't apply when it came to Richard.

Fingers encircled her breasts. “I assure you, I want the entire package.”

She peeked up from under the pillow. “Really?”

“Is not my condition proof of my desire?”

Condition? Oh. The erection. She put her hands around his neck again and drew him closer. “Yes.”

He kissed her again, his tongue tasting hers as his hand caressed her breasts and between her legs. She gasped at the desire that buzzed through her. Her back arched. Her toes curled.

“Ahh…”

“Keep that thought.” Richard began kissing her neck, which sent more shivers through her body. She arched into his hand, wet and wanting more from him. He touched the right spot and all thought left her except one:
more
.

When his kisses went below her waist and his lips touched what his hands had been caressing, she went so wild that he had to hold her still so he could finish what he started.

The orgasm built, surging through her body. She bit back a scream, only just remembering Daz was on the other side of the door.

Overcome, she moaned and rolled to the side as Richard let her go. He slid back up to enclose her in his arms from behind. She felt his hard penis pressing into her back.

She faced him. “Don't stop now.”

He kissed her, not soft and quiet as before, but overwhelming, intense, powerful. Her fingers dug into his arms and her body shivered all over again. The orgasm was less intense but not over.

He lifted her on top of him. “Show me you want this as much as I do.”

She slid over him, throwing her head back as she took him inside. She needed no urging. She rode him, let herself go as she never had before. He grabbed her hips and his arms moved with her. Curls fell in front of her eyes, obscuring her view of his face.

He moaned as he came. It triggered another orgasm for her. She leaned over him, clutching his shoulders, their bodies moving together. He wrapped his arms around her.

Let me die now, she thought, because this was the best there could be, ever.

He stroked her back with his fingertips. “Angel?”

“Mm…?”

“Are you worn out yet?”

She kissed him. Worn out? From this? “Never.”

“Good.” And he shifted so he was on top the second time. This time, she forgot Daz was in the next room and she did scream.

Richard slept with his angel wrapped in his arms, savoring it. How long since he'd had such lovemaking? Long enough that he knew how unique it was. Oh, the actions were similar to many other nights. It was the partner that made the difference.

Marian's eyes flickered open. She glanced over at the clock on the bedside table.

“Oh, crap,” she said.

He kissed her neck. “Not the greeting I expected this morning.”

“That's not, no, I didn't mean that. Crap.”

It didn't matter what she said because she made no move to leave the enclosure of his arms.

“What did you mean?”

“I, uh, well, I didn't even think about condoms last night.”

“Ah.” Not that it mattered. The Court had long ago discovered procreation worked poorly for immortals. If he had stayed at court, he might have put their money into discovering why this was so, rather than creating babies from unwilling participants, like Edward tried to do. “I'm completely free of disease.”

She rolled over to face him. “Well, I know that!” She ran fingers through his hair. Lovely. He nuzzled her neck. She made some sort of noise halfway between a moan and a groan. A happy sound.

“I'm on the pill but I thought maybe your sperm might be like the rest of you, super-awesome, take-no-prisoners kind of thing.”

He smiled and wished this were true, that he could have this woman bear his child and heir. “Alas, no.” He took a deep breath. “Infertility seems to be a side-effect of immortality. Perhaps we heal imperfectly at the genetic level. I don't know.”

She sat up. “But…all of it works so well!”

He laughed, and put his hands behind his head, a better way to view her nakedness. “Thank you.”

She closed her eyes. “I'm babbling again, aren't I?”

He reached up to brush her nipple with his fingers. “I like your babbling. And it was a valid question. But I have a question for you, Angel.”

She enclosed his hand with both of hers and kissed his palm. “Anything, Richard.”

He raised an eyebrow, tempted to find out just what
anything
meant. But they should get moving soon. “Could you turn me into a phantom? I would like to know how it feels.”

Her eyes widened. Clearly not the question she'd expected.

“I can turn anything I'm touching intangible. That's why my clothes go phantom too. I've learned to do that automatically.” She tilted her head. “You're a little bigger than me but it's possible. If…”

“If what?”

“If we stood up and you put your arms around me from behind, so that as much of you is touching me as possible. That will make it easier.”

“Good.” He rose out of bed and walked to the window. The sun's rays told him it was just past dawn. He gathered her against him as they looked out the window together.

She put her arms over his. “Okay. Here we go. I'll change first. Be still when I slip inside you.”

He probably should have asked her the dangers of this. It might just be something that could kill him.

That, however, was what made it all so interesting.

It took all his self-control not to flinch as she seemed to vanish from his arms. He could see the outline of her, especially her hair, but there was no other sign she existed, save for the lingering heat where they had been touching.

He held air.

Correction. He held air no longer because his arms became as ethereal as hers. He stilled his breath as he watched his hands vanish, fighting the urge to flinch. His arms contained no weight, no feeling, nothing.

Better to close his eyes. Sight was counterproductive.

In seconds, his perceptions shifted from solid to something less, something he could only compare to being on his board, in the eye of a wave, as the world ceased to be and he was as much water as human flesh.

He opened his eyes. He could see, yet it wasn't the same. The world glowed in some small ways. His sense of smell became so acute that he could sniff the aroma of coffee wafting under the door.

The room seemed smaller until he looked down and realized he and his angel floated in air, the morning sun turning them into literal angel-figures.

They were one, in ways he could not understand as yet. Marian remained in his arms and yet not, connected and separate at the same time.

More. He wanted more. He moved his arm.

Weight flashed back into his body. His feet hit the floor with a thud. He toppled over, still clutching Marian tight. He took the brunt of the fall on his side. Several deep breaths assured him he was alive and normal.

She rolled out of his arms and knelt on the carpet, staring down at him. “Are you all right?”

“Stellar.” He blinked. “What happened?”

“You moved. I've never tested my limits and I didn't want to push it.”

“What happens if we push the limits?”

“Best case? I manage to stay inside you for five to ten minutes, then slip out. Worse case? I lose concentration and become solid inside you, which might kill you. It'd definitely get messy.”

“Ah.” She had good reason for being cautious, then. “I wanted more.”

“You wanted to control it.” But she smiled.

“Yes.” Marshal's words about his surfing echoed in his mind.
A sword should be an extension of your arm. You always tried to battle the blade for control instead of letting it become part of you. You are doing the same with the waves. You fight the water, not merge with it.

Marian was exactly right. He brushed the curls away from her eyes. “Ah, Angel, what a gift you give me.”

“It was only for thirty seconds.”

“It was enough. To glimpse how you can view the world when like that, it was like…I don't know.”

“Like being one with the universe.”

“And being one with you.” He sat up and brushed her cheek with his fingers. “You are extraordinary.”

She blushed and looked away from him. “I've never done that to someone conscious before. Well, anyone besides Aunt Eunice. I didn't know that you would feel like that, what I feel.”

“I will cherish the memory forever.”

She stood. “I guess, coming from you, it might be forever after all.”

Something was wrong. Modern courtship was odd to him, still, and there were different rules in different communities. The rules in the surfer community were to keep it casual and always be honest about one wanted. Still, it had taken him years to master that simple philosophy. And not all the women adhered to it either, lingering long past his interest in them.

Marian came from yet another tradition. One, he suspected, that valued commitment. Commitment. He could not even stay committed to the Court and he'd not been married ever. No point to it.

Though he had no desire to walk away from Marian, neither did he know what commitment meant to her.

“Have I done something wrong?”

She shook her head, curls falling in her eyes. “I just realized how far over my head I am with you.”

“Then we are even.”

She smiled. Good. He must have made the proper response. He pulled her into his arms again. In his experience, lovemaking only helped this sort of situation. He kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his waist.

The sharp rap of knuckles sounded against the door. “Yo, lovebirds, breakfast is here. And we need to talk.”

Richard released her. He had nearly forgotten Daz was standing guard out there.

“How did he know I was in here?” Marian whispered.

“We were less than quiet last night.”

“Oh, hell.” This time, the blush covered her whole face. So lovely.

“I'll go speak to him.” Richard reached for his pants. “Perhaps you would like to shower and freshen up first?”

“That would be perfect. Thank you!”

She enclosed his face in her hands, kissed him and then backed out the connecting door to her own room.

Chapter Fourteen

“Got just what you wanted last night, Prince?”

Daz stood at the kitchen counter of their suite, drinking a mug of coffee. He was dressed for the day in jeans and a T-shirt, as usual.

“
Got
implies possession. Not it at all.” Richard poured a mug of coffee. “Why the hostility, Montoya?”

Montoya wanted his angel, of course. But Richard thought the interest was casual.

Daz shook his head. “Because I like her and I don't trust you.”

Direct. “Then take the anger out on me before she gets here. She doesn't deserve it.”

“You don't deserve her!” Daz slammed his mug down on the counter.

Richard's anger surged. He flexed his hand and the mug, full of steaming hot coffee, shattered in his hand.

Daz jumped back, avoiding the spray of liquid. “What the hell?”

“You lost your temper first.” Richard stared at his palm. Sliced by the mug's shards, blood pooled in it. That didn't bother him. The reappearance of his new strength at the loss of his temper did.

“Gonna explain that?” Daz asked. “You're a self-healer, not Superman, and that was a sturdy mug.”

“Your explanation is as good as mine.” Richard stepped away from the mess, grabbed a cloth napkin and wrapped it around his hand to stem the blood as the cuts healed over. “You've worked with your firestarter for years. You know about these things. Perhaps you would care to guess what happened.”

“Me?” Daz kicked the remains of the mug into a pile and dropped paper towels on it. “Like you don't know? C'mon. Marian was hiding the ghost stuff. I bet you were hiding this.”

“Only since visiting your Phoenix Institute. Before then, I'd never have been able to shatter a mug like that. Or toss monks around.”

“What do you mean?”

Richard thought the taunt would distract Daz. But instead, he'd hit home. Daz knew something. What?

“You know exactly what I'm talking about. Since I was fifteen, I've been able to heal my body. But only since I met with your people a few days ago has this new strength appeared. What did you do to me?”

“Huh.” Daz swept up the shards, wet paper towels and all, into the garbage can. “Maybe I might know something about it.”

“Do tell.” Richard grabbed one of the croissants from a cart obviously brought in by room service. Patience, not threats, bore more fruit. He'd learned that much from the ocean. “I have to know what's going on, especially since I can't control it properly yet.”

Montoya refilled his coffee and collapsed into the chair in the living area. He put his feet up on the table.

“You used this new strength when you tossed the monk against the wall at the abbey? And to open that hidden door last night?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me the exact moment when you first knew you had the strength.”

“I crushed an armrest with my fingertips in the limo on the ride to the airport.”

“What were you thinking right that moment? And the other moments, like with the monk and the door?”

“I was frustrated in the limo because I was thinking about who shot me. I was angry at the abbey at being deceived and set up. By the time I reached the hidden door, I knew I had added strength, so I was able to channel it. I wasn't angry then.”

“You were angry just now, with the mug.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“So you Hulked out.” Montoya leaned forward. “No, that can't be right. If the strength is psychic-based, like your healing, it's not something with your muscles. It's got to be some form of TK that channels strength to your muscles.”

“Yes, it would be a specific kind of telekinesis. I guessed that, especially as it responds to emotions. I've known telekinetics in the past whose abilities manifested according to their mood.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Like the Hulk you mentioned. Some telekinetics were even fond of making the earth shake when they became angry.”

“Damn. And I thought fire starting could be scary.” Montoya took a deep breath. “At least you're not lobbing stuff all over the place with your mind, Prince. It seems to be focused on your regular movements.”

“Yes.” Richard nodded. “And you're taking this very well, Montoya, for someone who was sniping at me a few minutes ago. You know or suspect the answer to my newfound strength.”

“Yeah.”

“And you're going to tell me. Now. Because untrained psychic ability is dangerous to the person who has it and everyone around them. Including Marian.”

Montoya stared off into space as Richard consumed the croissant and poured a fresh cup of coffee.

“Your ability is dangerous to Marian, at the very least,” Daz finally said. “I'm not quite sure what happened but, at the institute, Beth went into your head for a bit, right?”

The telepath had done this? No telepath Richard had ever met could grant abilities like this. “And so?”

“Did Beth tell you to do anything?”

Richard frowned. He thought back to exactly what she had told him telepathically. “She said I was stronger than I knew and I must draw on that strength.”

“That must be what did it.”

Richard sat down. “Are you saying Beth Nakamora did this to me?”

“She's a catalyst. She amps up psychic abilities. When she and Alec work together, they can do amazing things that he can't do alone. And she jacked up Drake's healing ability. Whatever she did made it stronger and put it under his conscious control. She didn't even know she was doing it at first. With Alec, his ability started to go haywire until he figured out his contact with Beth was causing it.”

“That must make their lovemaking rather, ah, fiery.”

Montoya snorted.

“What about Drake?” Here was the answer to how Edward had been defeated.

“Drake was mortally injured some time back. Beth was really upset. She told him not to die, not knowing she'd able to make him literally not die. Since then, his healing is under his conscious control. But maybe that's not so unusual. You supposedly have hundreds of years of experience. How unusual is Beth's ability?”

“It's extremely unusual.” Unprecedented, he thought. Huh. Drake had healing under his conscious control. Richard's body healed as it healed. He knew how long it would take, but he could not rush the process. No wonder Edward had lost.

“After the fight with your brother, we discovered Drake had a severe concussion, a broken wrist, ripped tendons in his leg, and, for good measure, your brother sliced his arm half through. Nothing stopped Drake until he took a bullet to the chest. That's how strong he is now.”

Beth Nakamora had meddled with Richard's ability. She'd taken control of his very self and changed him.
Violator
. Richard took a deep breath through the haze of rage that engulfed him. Ride through it, he thought. Don't let it throw him. He needed this information.

“Why did your telepath do this to me?”

“Don't.” Montoya pointed at him. “Don't use that tone about Beth. She's not some sort of mind-control witch. She hates interfering in people's heads. If she said what you said she said, she was probably trying to help you in some way, not amp up your powers. She's still learning about her abilities. She's not always conscious of doing stuff like this.”

Montoya, a normal human, liked Beth. He trusted a telepath. Also unprecedented. Richard closed his eyes and pictured a calm ocean.

“You believe this woman has good intentions?”

“She's the nicest person I know.”

“That's not my experience with telepaths.” In his experience, telepaths liked manipulating lesser humans, as much as firestarters liked to burn things with their fire.

“I hear you.” Richard held up a hand. “So she created this new TK strength from whole cloth for me?”

“No, that's not how it works. Beth once told me she can't give people any abilities they don't already have. She told you to be stronger, you said. I'd guess you must have had a latent talent for this kind of TK.”

“Despite my anger, you could've remained silent about my newfound ability instead of telling me this. Why did you just tell me?”

“I told you, I'm watching out for my own skin, here. And Marian's. I don't want you Hulking out on us. Or for any innocents to be caught in the crossfire.”

His angel. For her, he could stay calm. “You offered your service, Montoya, and I accepted. That means I'm ultimately responsible for your welfare, at least for this mission. You're mine to protect and keep safe. I won't hurt either of you.”

“Uh, right.” Daz went for another cup of coffee. “Whatever.”

Richard stood and paced over to the window. He never expected Montoya to understand that part of their relationship, but Marshal had ingrained the royal obligation to protect his men-at-arms in Richard at a young age. He could manage his anger with Daz.

As for Beth Nakamora? He'd thought her words applied to his inner strength. Maybe that was what she expected as well. Yet what was inner strength but strength of mind? And psychic abilities came from the mind.

She might have truly wanted to help him.

“So, you're going to be careful with Marian?” Daz asked.

“Why do you care so much about that?”

“What's not to like? She holds it together, no fuss. And she's damned attractive.”

“Thanks,” Marian said.

Marian stood in the doorway to her room. Her curls had been left loose and framed her face beautifully. Obviously, she'd overheard the whole conversation. He should have noticed her there. But perhaps she'd been spying on them in ghost form. More likely, holding in his rage had distracted him.

She smiled. “So you're not just a handsome, immortal prince now. You're Superman.”

“I can't fly.”

“Not yet.”