Rogue Soul (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 3) (17 page)

With a start, he realized that his hand trembled. He hoped she didn’t notice. “I am going to make you come so hard that you forget your own name.”

She whimpered, but held his gaze.

“But you won’t forget
my
name,” he said. “You’ll scream it when you come.”

Her eyes widened, lids fluttered, then locked with his again, full of desperation and want and things he didn’t recognize. He realized then that it was a terrible idea to make her say his name when she came. Realized too that he’d still do it.

He lowered his lips to her ear, barely held himself back from tracing the shell of it with his tongue, and rasped, “I’m going to taste you now.”

She shivered. He moved down the bed and yanked her legs wide, set his mouth upon her without warning, a broad sweep of his tongue that allowed him to taste her and feel her and revel in her.

He grinned, pinning her hips to the bed while he repeated the motion. From the way she moved and cried out, it pushed her hard and high and fast.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he muttered against her flesh, and swirled his tongue around her clitoris, wanting to feel her move beneath him. He was rewarded by her thighs clamping about his head, by her broken moan echoing through the room.
 

“Say my name,” he rasped, looking up to see her clutching the bars of the headboard and panting, her pink lips parted so seductively that his cock jerked.
 

She shook her head, and he wasn’t sure why she resisted—maybe because she sensed that this was all a dark game, a way to get a taste of what he wanted while holding her at arm’s length.
 

He was a selfish bastard.

“Say it,” he growled, pushing a finger into her and curving it upward to make her
want
to say his name.

“Cam.” High and needy and desperate.

He watched her lips form his name and realized that her voice was the only thing he could hear. As if he were in a vacuum, with nothing except her. Even the forest had quieted, so cacophonous before, now drowned out by the blood pounding through his limbs and ears and cock.

He set his mouth upon her ravenously, wanting to feel her come, shake, clench beneath him. He pushed another finger inside her, moaning at the feeling of her gripping him.

“Cam!” Her legs trembled. She was close.
 

Though he wanted to taste her orgasm on his tongue, he realized he wanted to see her face, her eyes, as she lost herself in what he could give her.

It was fucked up, saying this was a selfless act when he did it for his own pleasure. He was getting in deeper than was wise, wanting to see her face. But he couldn’t help it. His cock throbbed against his pants, demanding. But it was his mind that he couldn’t disobey.
 

She whimpered and jerked at her bonds when he drew his mouth away. He rose swiftly up her body, rubbing her clitoris with his thumb while continuing to thrust his fingers inside her.

He watched her as pleasure clouded her eyes, occasionally dragging his gaze down to watch his big hand working between her white thighs.

Unable to help himself, he ground his cock against her thigh, helpless to stifle the groan that rose in his throat.

“You want this?” he growled, partially to remind himself that this was about her. But also to hear it from her lips.

“Yes,” she said on a breath, her eyes locked with his. Desperation flared in their depths.

Someone pounded on the door. Cam froze, then picked up his pace again.

“Cam!” Ana cried in alarm.

“Come for me, Ana,” he rasped.

The pounding continued.
No, damn it.
He would have this. She would have this.

“Ignore it. Come for me, Ana. Let me feel you.”

His words pushed her over the edge. Her pussy gripped his fingers in delicious spasms, her hips flexing and her arms straining against the bonds. He couldn’t look away, kept trying to coax her higher with his fingers as his eyes raced over her face.

The pounding came again, this time harder and faster.

“A minute, damn it,” he yelled.

He watched as the strained pleasure faded from her face, then he gently removed his hand.

“Hurry!” a voice yelled from the other side of the door.

“Fuck.” Cam undid the belt around Ana’s wrists, took one last look at her, and went to the damned door.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Cam swung open the door, ready to tear the head off of whoever had interrupted them.

“Someone’s after you!” Crone-chic cried, her fat black cat on her heels. It danced anxiously in place on too-small paws while Crone-chic waved her hands.

“How the hell?”
 

“Get dressed, get dressed! A man stopped by the desk, asking about someone like your woman. They had magic. Strong enough to sense the protections here. I can’t guarantee they’ll hold, not against one like him. You’ve got to get out.”

“Shit!” He turned back to Ana, who now leaned on her elbows, shorts tugged haphazardly about her hips. She stared at him, eyes wide.
 

“Cernowain,” she whispered.

Fuck. She had to be right. God of animals. He felt it then, like the snap of a rubber band against skin.

“Someone else is here,” Ana hissed.
 

Someone had come through the aether from Otherworld. Someone
else,
if Crone-chic was to be believed about Cernowain. Which she was. The witches prided themselves on the security of their hidden rooms. Protecting their guests when the spells broke was protecting their own reputation.

Cam cursed himself for being so caught up in Ana that he hadn’t felt Cernowain’s arrival. He dragged on his shirt, not caring that it was filthy, and turned to see Ana ready to go, dressed and with her bow strapped across her back.

“Hurry!” Crone-chic cried from the doorway, her cat meowing its agreement. “Just because I sent them away doesn’t mean they won’t be back!”

Cam grabbed his bag from the corner and followed Ana out into the hall, leaving behind an empty room and the heat that had so recently engulfed them.

“We need a flight out,” he said to Crone-chic. “Now.”

“Well, um—” Crone-chic waved her hands some more while the cat continued to hop around, nervous energy radiating from its spiked black fur and one good eye. Not good under pressure, these two. “There’s nothing ’til tomorrow, but my nephew can get you out.” A crafty gleam entered her black eyes. “But it’ll cost you.”

Cam sighed. “Of course it will. Take us to him.”

They followed Crone-chic down the stairs and into the back alley, eyes alert for their pursuers. Though he and Ana could feel the arrival of someone from Otherworld, knowing that person’s exact location was beyond their ability. He could only tell that they were nearby. Which could be in this very alleyway.
 

Cam kept his gaze alert, constantly scanning the darkened passage for any sign of movement. The night was black and still, the animals quieter than usual.
 

“Here, here,” Crone-chic whispered and pointed to a small door. “Inside.”

Cam ducked under the little doorway behind Crone-chic and Ana, surprised by the modern kitchen within.

“Wait here.”
 

She returned within a few minutes, a sleepy and disgruntled man of about twenty following her down the stairs.

“This is Paolo. He’ll fly you inland.”

“Inland? We don’t have that kind of time. We need to get to the coast. To an airport big enough to get us to London.”

“Take it or leave it, man,” Paolo grumbled. “I got cargo to deliver. For you and your money, I’ll leave early. You can catch another flight from there.”

Cam considered their options and realized that they didn’t have any. “Fine.”
 

It took them five tense minutes to sneak across town to the tiny airport, thirty more for Paolo to prep the plane—all of which were fraught with anxiety—and finally they were airborne.

“Fates,” Ana muttered, shifting to find a comfortable place on the floor of the plane as it headed toward its cruising altitude. Cargo boxes full of who knew what teetered in piles surrounding her. “Finally.”

Cam just nodded at her, then settled back against his crate and folded his arms over his chest. He closed his eyes, pretending to doze.

So that’s how he was going to play this? Tie her up, give her a crazy orgasm, and then ignore her?

Fine by her. She shouldn’t have done it in the first place and maybe now she’d have a chance to pretend she never had. All the reasons she’d had for not getting involved with him — like the fact that one of them was going to end up in Otherworld — were just as relevant now.

More so, considering the fact that Cam in bed was something she could get used to. The memory of him, all tensely coiled muscle and harsh face hovering over her, was enough to send her over the edge. She shook her head.
Forget it.
 

“So, what are we going to do now?” she asked.
 

“What Paolo said. Land, hope the gods haven’t followed us, and find the first flight out.”

“Oh. Okay.” Shit. Now she couldn’t think of anything else to say. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted to. Listening to his rough voice just dredged up memories of earlier tonight.

The rumbling of the landing gear woke her sometime later—seconds or hours, she had no idea.

“What?” She rubbed her eyes and looked around blearily. “How long has it been?”

“Hour.”
 

The plane pulled to a stop and Cam rose, having to duck in the small space. She followed suit, and soon they were hopping down onto the tarmac. It was narrow, set right into the jungle, which was as black as the night sky. Runway lights provided the only illumination. Animals rustled and shrieked within the forest.

Paolo shut the plane door behind them and said, “Got some time ’til the sun comes up. You’re in luck, the weekly plane out of here leaves just after sunrise. It’s a six seater, so maybe there’ll be room.”
 

“Will your aunt tell anyone where this plane landed?” Cam asked him.

“No. If your pursuers knew to ask, she wouldn’t say anything.”

“But she’ll be in danger!” Ana hadn’t thought of this before. Ugly guilt oozed through her at the thought of leaving the little old woman behind to face Cernowain.

Paolo laughed. “Not likely.”

Ana’s eyebrows rose.
Must be some witch to stand up to gods.
But there were beings more powerful than the Celtic gods, and Ana figured the Bruxa might as easily be one of them as anyone else.
 

Paolo led them across the abandoned tarmac to a little building set into the jungle. He unlocked the door to reveal a single room with a desk that was presumably for tickets, a big scale, chairs, and a tiny cafe that was nothing more than a counter and a few tables.
 

A door in the back of the room opened, and Ana was grateful to see a man in an apron walk through.

“An airport this small has a cafe?” Ana asked, nodding at the aproned man.

Paolo shrugged. “Only place to eat in town, if you want to call it a town. Just happens this building had space. Luis will feed you if you ask nicely.”

Ana vowed to ask very nicely. She could eat a water buffalo right now.
 

Cam paid Paolo, handing over a fat stack of bills that made the man’s white smile cut across his tanned face. Twenty minutes later, they were tucking into a breakfast that was the best thing Ana had ever tasted. It’d been so long since she’d eaten that she’d have enjoyed almost anything.
 

Cam hadn’t said anything to her since they’d landed, just kept his eyes trained on the ticket table for when someone showed up to sell them a ticket. She peeked at him whenever she could. He looked more solemn than she’d ever seen him, his mouth pressed in a grim line and his eyes shuttered.
 

It was going to be harder than she’d thought to pretend last night hadn’t happened. Impossible, most likely. She chewed her eggs, realizing that they’d gone tasteless in her mouth.

Cam shoved up from his seat and she jumped. A relieved sigh escaped her when she saw the ticket attendant. Or rather, the woman shuffling papers at the little desk who she assumed was the ticket agent. Hard to tell.