Hotter Than Hell (41 page)

and his mouth met her nape. She shivered, curling even more tightly into herself. He stroked her shoulder, touched the two dimples down low at the small of her back.

The first edge of pain was gone, and the burning settled back into a low dull agony. Her Talent wasn’t like others, she had to fuel it with sex. It was the only thing that worked.

But Christ, do I have to let him touch me like this? He’s not human. Can’t he just fuck me and get it over with, leave me alone so I can do what I need to do?

The rest of her ruined sweater was discarded over the side of the bed. He worked her jeans free and tossed them away too, then took her in his arms. His own clothes were gone—how he did that she couldn’t guess, but it probably had something to do with his claws, and the fact that she was too busy trying to gulp down air and fight her body’s need to really pay attention to him.

She was paying for the magick she’d done earlier. No preparation, no patterning—she’d simply dropped her defenses and gone for it, performed a major Work without any thought of the consequences. No wonder she was shaking with need.

Everything has to be paid for. She realized she’d said it out loud. “Everything has to be paid for in magick, Nikolai, everything .”

“Do you think I do not know?” He pushed her onto her back, slid his hand between her legs. She was slick and feverish, damp with need. “Hush. Lie still.”

It took a massive effort to do what he said. It would be quicker if she just let him—if she submitted, if she gave in.

Selene erupted into wild motion, trying to fight him off. He caught her wrists, stretching them above her head, and pinned her to the mattress. She would have been screaming, but his mouth was on hers, catching the scream, killing it. She tried to kick him, straining, but he slid a knee between hers. Then all of his weight, and Selene felt the edges of his hips against the soft insides of her thighs. He was much warmer now, his skin almost scorching hers.

The energetic discharge of sex would feed him, too. That was why a tantraiiken was such a valuable paranormal pet.

Pet? Slave. It was frowned upon, of course, but paranormals and Talents weren’t that tightly policed, even though the laws were almost in effect to give them some protection and codify them. The higher echelons of the human world—the powerbrokers and politicians—knew about the slavery, of course, it was an open secret in some circles. But no newspaper would ever report on it, and no television anchor would ever talk about the things that went on under the blanket of normality. How sometimes, people born with certain Talents were lost to the night side of life.

He found the entrance to her body, thrust in, and his hands tightened around her wrists, the small bones grinding together. Selene gulped back another useless scream, relief spilling through her. His fingers gentled, threaded through hers. He murmured something—maybe it was Russian, she didn’t know, didn’t care, the only thing she cared about was that the agony had stopped. He was in her to the hilt, stretching her, her hips slamming up, silently begging.

He moved, again, and Selene closed her eyes. Pleasure tore through her, a dark screaming pleasure wrapped in barbed wire and dragging hot velvet laceration through tender flesh. Soon enough she would be able to think about grieving.

“Get…it…over…with.” She set her teeth together, even as her hips rocked and her ankles linked together at the small of his back. Her body betrayed her over and over again, that was the worst. Her body was an enemy, a traitor, it didn’t care who he was as long as he had what she needed.

“Oh, no,” he whispered into her ear, then caught her earlobe in his teeth, gently, delicately. A slight nip of razor teeth, and she sucked in a breath. He laughed, a low harsh breath against her cheek. “There are a few hours until morning.”

“I hate you,” she whispered back, even as her body shook and the blind fire took her again. And again.

IN THE END, EXHAUSTED, SHE LAY LIMP AGAINST the bed, hugging a pillow rescued from the floor. Nikolai curled against her back, sweat slicking his skin so it slid against hers. Her entire body sparked pleasantly, and her shields were back up, thick enough to protect her again.

If Danny had been able to shield himself, would he have died? If he’d been able to run away from whatever had battered his door down, maybe he would have survived.

Don’t worry, Danny. Little sister’s on the job. I’ll get whoever did this to you. I promise. The words were a lump behind her breastbone, steel closing around her beating heart. I swear to you, Danny. I’m going to find who did this to you. I’ll do whatever I have to do.

That was one thing being a whore was good for. It let her contemplate doing just about anything to get what she wanted. What she needed.

Nikolai’s hand polished the curve of her hip, something cool and metallic sliding against her skin. He drew it up over her ribs, under her breast, until the medallion lay where it used to, half the chain spilling down to pool on the sheet. He fastened it at the back of her neck, one-handed, and flattened his other palm against the silver lying between her breasts. “There. This is important, Selene. Without it, you’re at risk. This gives you protection. You cannot throw it away. Understood?”

Shut up, suckhead. “Someone killed my brother.” Her throat rasped from choking back screams.

“What happened? What was it?”

“If I tell you what I know, it would be nothing. If I tell you what I suspect, it will be confusing, because I suspect many things.” He yawned, burying his face in her hair, then spread one hand against her belly. He was warm enough to pass for a feverish human, metabolizing the jolt of sex into fuel. “If I tell you what I expect, we will be here for many hours, since I have learned to expect everything. It is too soon to tell.”

“My brother,” she said, tonelessly. His knees were behind hers, one arm under her head, the other holding her to him. A huge exhausted yawn took her unaware, threatened to crack her jaw. “Someone killed my brother , Nikolai.” If you won’t help me …

“Cooperate with me, and I will find whatever killed your brother,” He sighed again, relaxing against her back the way a cat might. A very big, very warm cat. “Dawn is approaching. Will you come with me?”

She should have known. The same offer as always, delivered as if she should be grateful for it. Leave it to Nikolai to use even her brother’s murder to try and get what he wanted out of her. “I have work tomorrow.” She watched the edge of her pillowcase, breathing shallowly. Leave me alone. You got what you wanted, now go away.

“Already attended to. You are not expected there for another two weeks.”

Jesus. “I can’t afford—”

“With pay.”

“I don’t want your money.” I don’t want to fuck you, either. See how well that works out?

“Mh. It is not mine; it is from the college. You may call it a gift. For my Selene.”

She closed her eyes. If he was human, what would I do? I’d ask him to help me and he might even do it without turning it into a power play. “Don’t call me that. I’m not yours.”

“You must belong somewhere,” he said softly.

“I belonged with my brother.” Poor Danny. Locked in his apartment except for those times he slipped the chain of his own body and went Journeying. How many times had Selene climbed the steps to his apartment to ask his help for the cases Jack Pepper brought her? How many times had she brought him meals, or little things he needed because he couldn’t stand to leave the wards Selene had made for him?

Danny had been immune to her pheromones, immune to her curse. He had been the only man capable of seeing her without her goddamn body complicating things.

I belonged with him plenty, you undead jerk. Now he’s gone, and you wouldn’t have even let me look at his body.

I hate you.

And he was so easy to hate, wasn’t he? A Nichtvren. Inhuman, for all that he’d been mortal once, however long ago. How old was he, anyway?

“He was under my protection too,” Nikolai said. “Come with me, Selene. You will be safer.”

Like hell I will. “No.”

“One day you will.” He didn’t push the issue, for once. “Jorge will come to offer you use of a car.”

“And to keep an eye on me? No thanks, Nikolai.” Selene bit her lower lip. It was bruised already. She tasted blood. She would ache tomorrow. It had been too long, she’d built up a heavy debt, and her body had exacted its toll with a vengeance. Not only had she cleared a poltergeist infestation and pulled the wards from Danny’s apartment, but there had also been the work for that witch over on Seventeenth Street.

She’d needed the money. She always needed the money. Lecturing didn’t pay nearly enough for both her rent and Danny’s. And by God, Selene never wanted to be poor again. She agreed with Scarlett O’Hara on that count, thank you very much.

Nikolai paused, and his hand tensed against her belly. She held her breath, but he didn’t move, just tightened his arm around her.

“This is not a request. Jorge will come, and if you leave this place it will be with him. If you do anything foolish I will be vexed.” Even his breath was warm against her hair. Does he breathe because he knows it makes me a little more comfortable? I suppose he has to breathe to talk, doesn’t he? I should ask.

Exhaustion crept in. If she fell asleep now she might be able to get a few hours of rest before…no. The fatigue blurred everything, made it difficult to think.

“Vex all you want, Nik,” she said, and his fingers tapped against her belly once, twice. Then he stopped. “I’m not your servant. I don’t take your orders.”

Yeah, Selene. If you lie often enough, you might even be able to halfway believe it.

He made a low sound against her hair, and Selene’s entire body leapt. The medallion gave one scorching burst of heat. “Of course, if Jorge is incompetent enough to lose you, I suppose he will need punishment.”

You bastard. I should have known. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would, Selene. I would also make you watch.” He sounded calm as if he was discussing a grocery list. “I dislike the thought of damage to you. I will take steps to avoid it.”

Everyone knows I’m your little pet. Nobody messes with me anymore, you jerk. I might even be able to use that to find out who killed Danny. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“Especially not with Jorge watching over you.” He sounded pleased to have painted her into a logical corner.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll wait for him. I’ll be a good little girl. Now go away and leave me alone.” So I can cry in peace. Leave me that, at least. Just leave me alone so I can cry.

Nikolai rolled away from her, his arm sliding out from beneath her head. She heard him moving, getting into his clothes. She could imagine him getting dressed, pulling his jeans up, pulling his t-shirt back over his head, running his fingers back through his hair to push it back out of his face. Then his coat. She heard the sound of the heavy wool moving.

Best of both worlds. He has to go home before dawn. Can’t stay to make things sticky. And he’s so fucking careful not to damage me. Though I can take it, can’t I? It’s hard to kill me. With sex, at least.

He leaned over the bed to pull the sheet and the blankets up, tucking her in gently and efficiently.

Finally, when the covers were smoothed, he settled on the side of the bed and touched her hair. Ran his fingers through the heavy mass, lifting it slightly, and gathering it all up, pulling it back from her face.

He stroked her cheek with his fingertips, delicately. His claws didn’t prickle, but she knew they were there.

Go away. I have to cry first, then I will figure out what to do. Oh, God. Danny. Selene kept her eyes shut. Her breathing evened out. She hugged the pillow. Her right hand was under the covers, and she made a fist, her nails biting into her palm. Squeezed. Tighter. Tighter.

Finally, Nikolai touched the corner of her mouth with a fingertip. Selene didn’t open her eyes—but she did peek out through her lashes. Under the bedroom window shade, a faint grayness showed. Dawn was coming.

There was a slight sound—a breath of air. A cold breeze touched Selene’s cheek.

Nikolai was gone.

Selene drove her fingernails into her palms and took in a shuddering breath.

Now, at last, she could cry.

(LIKE A) VIRGIN OF THE SPRING

Susan Sizemore and Denise Little

GINGER WAS CERTAIN THAT THERE HAD BEEN A time in her life when she found public fornication shocking. That time was long behind her. Now, crossing the courtyard between the baths and the sanctuary of the sacred spring, she barely glanced at the naked couple coupling on the altar at the center.

What the pair was doing was a sacred rite meant to please the gods. She did take a moment to glance their way, and observed that the lad had a truly fine ass. The way his broad back narrowed down to his waist was a work of art. But the offering to the gods being shared out there with such energy was business, not pleasure—for her, at least.

It was spring, festival time, and people were crowding in to the stronghold from all over the countryside of southern Britain. It was a joyful season for most people, one that embraced relief at surviving the winter, appreciation of the new life emerging in field and flock, and enthusiastic participation in the fertility rites so important to the gods.

Ginger normally would have been overseeing the celebrations. But her knowledge of the darkness moving ever closer toward them overwhelmed her interest in this seasonal festival.

As priestess of the spring, she had responsibilities that ran far beyond the rites taking place on the altar.

She already knew that the next few days were going to be hard on her, and she was certain that her talent as a seeress was going to be called upon on this day when she was supposed to be resting up for the festival.

The future was hers to see and to interpret for others. And now it seemed the gathering storm had managed to alarm even the highest power in this land. The Lord of Ched had called for his senior advisors to gather before him at the sanctuary. Lord Ched was there when she arrived, a big man going to fat, his grizzled gray hair cut short in the Roman manner. Despite being near to fifty, a great age, he was still handsome. It was obvious where his daughter Morga got her beauty.