Seduced by Danger (2 page)

He moved silently, not wanting to wake her. He didn’t think he’d be able to leave if she looked into his eyes and reached for him. Like he dreamed about every night.

With his heart pounding and his palms sweaty, he stopped in the doorway.

Blessed Mother Goddess.

He drew in a sharp breath but his lungs tightened to the point of pain.

Cara lay on her stomach on the bed, naked from her head to her waist where a thin sheet covered her lower body. The pale skin of her back gleamed in the dim moonlight, her arms tucked under the pillow beneath her head. She’d gathered her sable, waist-length hair in a braid that trailed over her shoulder, leaving bare the outline of the
folletta
wings she’d never have.

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Just the slope of her nose or the curve of her cheek could give him a fierce hard-on. And when she smiled, he wanted to strip her down and worship her with his mouth between her legs.

She loved when he went down on her and he’d readily admit to the same.

But he couldn’t do that now.

Instead, he knelt on the floor so his face was on the same plane as hers. She seemed to be out cold. Her breath blew over her slightly parted lips and he smelled herbs, something sweet and dark.

Looking at the bedside table, he noticed a glass. Leaning over, he sniffed it. Sleeping potion of some kind.

Could he touch her? Stretch out beside her and hold her for just a few minutes, without her knowing? She seemed so completely under.

Gods damn it, he wanted these last moments with her.

He thought about slipping off his sneakers but didn’t want to take the risk if he had to make a fast exit.

Hell, he didn’t even want to lift the sheet for fear he’d disturb her, so he lay on top of it, easing his body into the curve of hers, her body conforming to his as if she knew he was there.

Those first few months on the run, right after he’d staged her death in a fall from the New York City brownstone where she’d been held prisoner, they’d slept like this every night.

And every night he’d wanted her.

Just as he wanted her now.

His cock throbbed, already hard with need. His hands ached to wrap around that braid and pull her head back so he could put his mouth on the soft skin of her neck, right behind her ear where he knew she loved to be nipped.

Her sweet, subtle scent sank into his lungs and spread through his bloodstream like a fast-acting drug.
Tinia’s
teat, this was torture.

Yet even as his desire rose, another emotion began to rise as well. An emotion that overpowered the rage that constantly roiled in his gut. Something that eased the anger, tempered it, transformed it into something else. Something he’d never felt before.

The still rational part of his brain told him to get the hell out of there.

He knew he couldn’t. Not now.

And what could one kiss hurt? She was asleep. She’d never know. And he didn’t have that much time left to regret anything he did so…

He leaned closer, letting his lips settle onto the back of her neck, unable to contain his groan. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer.

His.

Until he died.

Well, at least I won’t have to wait long to be put out of my misery.

* * * * *

Warmth surrounded Cara. She felt so safe and protected, she knew she must be dreaming.

She loved to dream but she hadn’t been sleeping enough to have many. Those dreams she did have all starred Michael.

Damn, if she’d known she’d dream like this, she would’ve asked
Flavia
for that sleeping potion months ago.

She felt him at her back, where he always slept, curled around her. Hell, she could even smell him, this dream was so vivid. He smelled so good, like sandalwood and citrus and heat.

She wanted to turn and bury her nose in the hollow of his throat and since it was her dream, she did.

The sheets tangled around her arms and legs but she managed to roll over and reach for him. Her arms slid around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape. Had his hair grown? Why would she make his hair longer in a dream?

She stilled then forced her heavy eyes open.

And stared straight into Michael’s eyes.

In the dark, she could barely see the outline of his face but she knew it was him.

When she pulled in a breath, his scent flooded into her, making her gasp.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Michael’s hands clamped around her hips, holding her in place, as if he thought she might try to get away. Or move closer.

He’d always been so careful to keep her exactly where he wanted her. Or at least where he thought she should be—just far enough away.

But here he was, where he swore he couldn’t ever be again, and the time for asking questions passed in a split second.

Her hunger for him rose up and consumed her, even through the drugging weight of
Flavia’s
sleeping potion.

With her hands on the back of his neck, she pulled him close and kissed him, all the love, anger and fear combining with the hunger to make her entire body sensitized to him.

The first touch of their lips made her moan, and the sexual energy that flared between them fed into her
arus
. The need she’d been suppressing turned into a dark, greedy, devouring passion.

She opened her mouth and Michael’s tongue filled it, stroking along hers, demanding she let him in when there was no way she wanted him to stop. He kissed her with the dominance she’d learned to expect from him and she reveled in it, letting him take over, letting him lead.

His hands released their tight grip on her hips and moved to her breasts. But the sheets tangled around them made it impossible for him to touch her how they both wanted.

With a growl, he broke apart to stand by the bed then ripped the sheets away, leaving her lying on the bed naked. He froze, sheets still clutched in his hands as he looked down at her. She felt his gaze travel from the tips of her toes up her legs to the
vee
of her thighs, where she continued to remove all the hair from her pussy, just as she’d been forced to when she’d been a
Mal
captive.

Now she did it because she wanted to, not because she was forced to. And because she knew he liked it.

After a long minute where she thought he might actually rip the sheets in half, his gaze continued upward to her breasts, still firm and high. He’d always had a thing for her breasts, had loved to suckle her nipples, had been so good he’d made her orgasm with only his mouth on her breasts.

Finally, he met her gaze and the heat ratcheted up another notch. His expression hardened into one she knew well from their time together. He was holding on to his control by the thinnest of margins. He didn’t want to release it and she would have to push him over the edge if she was going to get what she wanted. What she needed.

For as long as she’d known him, he’d never willingly given in to his fierce passion. She knew he feared hurting her, knew he didn’t want to remind her of any of the other men who’d used her and who she’d used to live.

But from the first time they’d been together, she’d known he was different.

Hers.

Slowly, she lifted her right hand to her left breast, cupping its weight and brushing her index finger over the tight tip. Her other hand slid to the middle of her stomach before beginning to trail down to her mound.

She hadn’t even masturbated much in the past fifteen months since he’d left her. She had only enough energy to care for
Aron
, and even though she needed sex to live, she’d had no stomach for it. Not without him.

So she’d buried that hunger, ignored it. Submerged it as much as she could.

Now though, she felt like a woman presented with a reprieve from hell and she was going to make sure she got exactly what she wanted.

And that meant pushing this man past his breaking point.

The hand on her breast continued to knead while the one on her mound went straight for her clit, teasing the tiny nub until it stiffened, tingling with sensation and sending sharp bursts of pleasure through her pussy and into her womb.

Before she came, though, she drifted her fingers to her sex, soaking her fingers in the moisture gathering there and rubbing it all over the silky lips.

Her eyes wanted to close but she forced them to stay open just enough to be able to watch Michael, frozen at the side of the bed. Well, not completely immobile. His impressive erection made a large tent in the front of his black cargo pants. She swore she saw it pulse beneath the fabric. And his hands clenched in time with her strokes.

Her breath hot and heavy in her lungs, she worked her fingers into her sheath and started to fuck herself with them. Slowly at first then faster as she felt her climax rising. The warm wetness of her pussy tightened around her fingers and she let herself enjoy the sensation.

Her body knew what it wanted and her hips began to thrust—

Michael grabbed her behind her knee with one hand and she slid across the bed while he tore his pants open with the other. He’d already shed his shirt. He barely had his erection free before he lifted her hips off the bed and seated his cock in her with one soul-shattering thrust.

So good. Too good.

They both cried out as their bodies merged, his cock pulsing in her sheath as she tightened around him.

He paused for a few brief seconds, eyes closed as he took a deep breath. His hands tightened almost painfully on her but she grabbed his wrists to hold him in place.

She knew he felt every tiny contraction of her body around his, knew that he was waiting for her to give him the signal to continue. He wouldn’t move, not until she’d made it clear she needed this as much as he did.

Deliberately, she moved her hips the tiny bit his hold allowed. Up then back, sliding on his cock only a few centimeters at a time but with just enough friction to make her breath catch.

It felt so good, so right, she had to have more. She squirmed in his hold, trying to get the right amount of friction, but he wouldn’t allow her to control the situation.

He uttered her name like a strangled curse and his hips shot forward, burying his cock to the hilt.

He began a long, slow retreat that hit every one of her nerve endings, making them sizzle with electricity.

His next inward thrust was just a little harder and the next harder still until he fucked her so hard the bed shook with his intensity. Maintaining eye contact the whole time, he kept her on the edge of orgasm for so long, she thought she might pass out.

She could barely breathe, her muscles so taut, she feared she might crack. But her body was so starved for sensation, it demanded more and she knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d made her beg.

When her eyes finally drifted closed in surrender and her hands fell away from his wrists, he groaned deep in his throat and released his control.

Lifting her while still lodged in her, he moved her to the center of the bed then spread out over her, enclosing her with his body.

Her
arus
rose in her blood, reaching out to mingle with his, seeking so much more than a physical release. She wanted him to tie himself to her, to be blood bound. But she knew he wouldn’t—

“Cara.” His voice, harsh with desire, made her pussy tighten in a short, sharp contraction and she moaned.

His mouth clamped down on hers, forcing her lips open so his tongue could enter, lapping at hers with the same rhythm his hips maintained. She sucked on him as her hands curved around his shoulders, fingernails digging into the shifting muscles of his back as he held himself above her on his elbows.

“Blessed Goddess, Cara.”

His words held a desperation she’d never heard from him before but she couldn’t make her brain function enough to worry about it. She only wanted to come and to make him come as well. To give them both pleasure and to tie him to her just a little more.

Her thighs slid up his then she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles at the small of his back. Tilting her pelvis up and making the base of his cock hit her clit with more precision.

Gods yes, right there.
She tightened around him, lifting into him, reaching for the orgasm she sensed so close.

His cock, hard and swollen inside her, made every retreat and return a blessing and a curse.

Then her
arus
surged like the hungry beast it was and slapped into his, melding their magic together and causing them to break together in an orgasm so shattering, she didn’t know if she’d live through it.

Chapter Two

Michael realized something was wrong only seconds after he came but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He rolled to his back, bringing Cara along until she was pressed into his side, their bodies fused together with sweat and heat, her arms so tight around him he’d have to hurt her to break free.

He never wanted to hurt her. He knew he had when he’d left her last year but he’d had no choice. The
Mal
had almost recaptured her and the secret of
Aron’s
birth would have made their baby a target as well.

Because
quercioli
weren’t supposed to be able to have children,
Aron
would have been a prized test subject for the
Mal
, a lab rat. They would have twisted his mind until he became what Michael had been before he’d met Cara.

Michael never wanted his child to live the life he’d been forced into at birth.

He’d been born
Mal
, just like his father before him and his mother’s father. His family ties had made it almost impossible for him to be anything else. He’d been born with a
caul
, part of the placenta, over his face, a harmless medical phenomena for the
eteri
. But for Etruscans, it signified his tie to the evil sect of the Etruscans.

His parents had seen it as icing on the cake.

In ancient times, to be born
Mal
had meant a lifetime battling the countering forces of the
Benendante
, the perpetual fight of good and evil manifested on earth.

But over the centuries, as the
Malandante
forces had grown, they’d branched out into all aspects of the world to become powerful players behind the scenes, their fingers in all aspects of business and politics.

When Etruscan parents had children who were born
Mal
, most gave them up for adoption to unsuspecting
eteri
. Or they abandoned them to the elements.

Maybe he’d have been better off if his parents had been pure Etruscans, untainted by the
Mal
.

Of course, if he hadn’t been born
Mal
, he never would have met Cara and they never would have had
Aron
.

And how fucked up was that?

But now he’d screwed himself royally by giving in to his desire and taking her.

He should have gotten the hell out of there before she woke.

But no, he’d been a selfish bastard and fucked her until neither of them could move.

And now he was pretty sure the blast of magic that had burst through them when they’d climaxed had fried his cloaking spell. And that probably meant he was dying.

“Michael?” Cara’s voice far away. Even so, he could hear the worry in it. “Are you okay? Your heart’s pounding a mile a minute.”

Vaffanculo
, he was one stupid SOB. He needed to get the hell away.

But he couldn’t seem to move. Or breathe.

“Sorry…Cara. So…sorry.”

Then he passed out.

Cara cried out as Michael’s eyes rolled back in his head and his body began to convulse.

Her brain went blank and she froze, watching him thrash on the bed for at least five seconds before she grabbed for the phone on the side table and dialed the only person she knew who could get her immediate help.

“Sal! Oh gods, Sal, Michael’s dying and I don’t know what to do.”

“Cara, is that you?”

She started to sob and had to force the words from her throat. “Sal, please come. I don’t—”

“Hang tight, babe. I’ll be right there.”

The receiver clicked then went silent. She turned back to find Michael gasping for air and clutching at his chest.

She reached for him, a prayer to the Mother Goddess
Uni
on her lips. What should she do? What—

The clop of hooves announced Sal’s presence as he magically transported himself into her bedroom from wherever he’d been seconds before.

She turned to find the
salbinelli
heading for the bed, a scowl drawn on his handsome features.

She’d expected the Etruscan satyr to be alone. She hadn’t expected him to be accompanied by a beautiful woman who looked familiar.

Cara didn’t have time to figure out who she was.

Michael had stopped breathing.

“Sal, please help him,” she pleaded. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Hell if I know,” he growled as he laid his hands on Michael’s chest. Michael had stopped convulsing but was turning an alarming shade of blue. “What the hell happened?”

“We had sex. He was fine. And then… Oh gods, Sal, is this my fault? Did I do something to him? Did I—”

“Cara
bella
, stop. You’re not helping.” Sal ran his hands just above Michael’s skin. “Fuck me, the boy’s gone and done it up good. Tilly, do you see?”

The woman— Oh
shit
! Cara dropped into a deep curtsy for the Etruscan Goddess of the Spirit. “Lady of the Shadow, my apologies. I didn’t—”

“Not a problem, sweetheart.”
Hinthial
waved a hand in her direction as she moved closer to the bed. “Yes, I see, Sal. The spell…it’s woven directly into his
arus
. Looks like their climax overloaded his magic, which blew the spell to smithereens and sent his body into shock. The spell drew power from his
arus
rather than working off its own power supply or a charm. His body couldn’t handle the stress. The spell would have killed him eventually. He must have known that.”

“Can you help him?” Cara couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t be able to handle that. “Please, Lady, I beseech you—”

“Now, now.”
Hinthial
turned to give her a serene smile. “No need for prayers. Yet. Step back, Sal. Let me see what I can do.”

Cara watched as the goddess held her hands above Michael’s chest and closed her eyes. Seconds turned into minutes and the goddess’s calm expression slowly changed to consternation.

Cara felt tears trail down her cheeks but bit her tongue to keep from sobbing out loud and distracting the goddess. She couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not like this.

But it looked like
Hinthial
was having trouble. And when a goddess had trouble…

“Cara, dear,”
Hinthial
finally said. “Take Michael’s hand.”

A shiver ran across Cara’s skin at the undercurrent of power in the goddess’s voice, making it deeper, almost creepy, like something out of a horror film. Shaking off those thoughts, Cara hurried to the other side of the bed and grabbed Michael’s cold hand in both of hers. Her tears flowed faster and she bit her tongue hard.

“Tilly…” Sal’s voice held a warning but
Hinthial
shook her head.

“It’s all right, Sal. I’ll be fine.”

Cara heard Sal sigh then he clopped over to Cara’s side and placed his hand on her bare back. A sense of calm flowed over her, not enough to completely displace the grinding fear but enough to allow her to stop crying and to focus her
arus
on her hands clasped around Michael’s.

Hinthial
remained still as stone for several minutes, her hands locked in place over Michael’s chest. Cara couldn’t even tell if she was breathing but her hands… Her hands glowed with a pale blue light, almost like the flame of a blowtorch.

The light waxed and waned as she watched, slowly expanding to encompass the goddess’s arms.

And still Michael didn’t move.

No
. She refused to lose him a second time.

Cara closed her eyes and concentrated on her
arus
, letting it warm and grow in her body. She built it up like she’d build a fire, adding fuel to it bit by bit until it bubbled in her blood like lava. Then she let it flow into her hands, into Michael’s hand, cementing the link between them.

Please, love. Come back to me.

“Cara,”
Hinthial
said, her tone sharp. “Continue to call to him. Make him listen.”

I love you, Michael. I miss you.
Aron
misses you. Don’t leave us. We need you.

Cara’s eyes flew open as Michael’s hand clenched around hers then released.

“Cara,” the goddess commanded. “Continue. Do it.”

Michael, please—

Hinthial
fell away from the bed with a cry, curling her hands against her body. Sal ran for the goddess as Michael began to thrash on the bed, though not with convulsions. He seemed to be struggling against something but he still didn’t seem to be breathing.

Cara threw herself across his chest, trying to hold him down so he wouldn’t hurt himself. Which was ridiculous but—

He gasped and his eyes flew open. He cried out, an agonizing sound, then stared sightlessly in front of him.

“Michael!” She shook him, trying to get his attention, to make his eyes focus, to draw away some of the fear she saw etched onto his face. “Michael, it’s me. It’s Cara.”

He struggled harder then, his arms breaking her hold on him and shoving her away from the bed. Cara fell to the floor, hard enough knock the wind from her lungs.

She sat on the floor and gasped for air just long enough to gain her bearings then scrambled to her feet.

And screamed, just a short note of terror before she could cut it off, when a blue-skinned
Tukhulkha
demon appeared on the other side of the bed.

Cara froze as the minion of
Charun
, God of
Aitás
, the Etruscan Underworld, turned its dark gaze on her then looked around the rest of the room. Even though Cara had never seen a
Tukhulkha
demon in person before, she knew exactly what this monster, with its humanoid body and birdlike facial features, could do. The horror stories associated with the demons gave Etruscan children nightmares.

She expected it to attack right away but it continued to gaze around the room. When its gaze landed on
Hinthial
, its head tilted and beady eyes narrowed. Large black wings appeared and flapped behind its shoulders as its arms crossed over its chest.

“Whoa,” it said. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Lady. Though when someone started messing around with this one’s death, I guess I should have realized.”

Though shorter by inches than the demon,
Hinthial
had the whole regal thing going for her and managed to make the demon appear smaller somehow. “How are you,
Nathum
? And what are you doing here?”

“What? You pull a soul back from
Aitás
and don’t expect the boss to get curious?” The demon snorted, the sound giving Cara the creeps as she watched the exchange. “He sent me to check.”

The demon gazed with intense concentration at Michael, who appeared to be breathing regularly. His skin tone was becoming more normal by the second though he still seemed to be unconscious.

And the demon was way too close to the bed for Cara’s piece of mind.

“The soul was still in my realm,”
Hinthial
said. “Tell
Charun
I merely righted a wrong. This one isn’t his yet.”

The demon cocked its head again the other way, looking more like a bird than ever. “I didn’t realize you made a habit of interfering with lives like this.”

Hinthial’s
chin lifted a fraction of an inch. “There’s much you don’t know about me.”

Nathum’s
gaze darted to Sal, standing next to
Hinthial
, then to Cara. Her heart tried to beat itself out of her chest but she met the demon’s black eyes and didn’t flinch. Then its gaze dropped to Michael.

“Certainly didn’t know you were cavorting with the
Mal
.”

“I’m not cavorting.”
Hinthial’s
brows lifted and the demon immediately dropped its gaze. “Have you satisfied your curiosity,
Nathum
? If so then we should leave. I’m sure you wouldn’t want
Charun
to believe you were here cavorting as well.”

Hinthial
turned to Sal, who bowed low and deep. “Thank you again for your assistance, Lady.”

“You are welcome,
Salvatorus
,”
Hinthial
replied with a cold tone that made Cara shiver. The goddess had sounded so warm earlier. So normal. Now she was acting exactly like Cara thought a goddess would act. Haughty. Supreme. Unfeeling.

Cara looked back at the demon, who nodded its head and disappeared. Just as
Hinthial
did milliseconds later.

Cara heard Sal sigh, long and deep, but she couldn’t formulate a single question. Michael consumed her entire attention.

His chest rose up and down in steady rhythm, and when she moved closer and put her hand against his forehead, she thought his temperature seemed almost normal. Maybe a little cold still but that was to be expected.

He’d been dead for several minutes.

And she had so many questions crowding her head, she had to shake it to make them come into some order. “Sal, what happened?”

Behind her, she heard Sal opening and closing drawers before he opened the door to her small closet. When she turned, still holding tightly to Michael’s hand, she saw Sal had her duffel bag in one hand.

“I need to get Michael back to my place, Cara. It’s the only place he’ll be safe until he recovers. And he can’t stay here.
Selvans
is going to have my ass in a sling over this as it is.”

Selvans
, Etruscan God of the Forest, gave his particular protection to this enclave. Cara had yet to meet him but it was never good to piss off a god. “I’m sorry, Sal. I never meant to get you in trouble. I didn’t know Michael was coming. But I’m not sorry he’s here.”

Her emotions seesawed between anger at the fact that she’d almost lost him, to fear for her friends if any of the
Mal
discovered their hidden village, to joy that he was actually here. After all this time, he’d come back to her.

When he’d left more than a year ago, he’d told her he was going to make it safe for her and
Aron
to live. To be able to walk down a street and not have to look over her shoulder to see if anyone was following her. To be free of the
Mal
and never worry about anyone kidnapping her and making her a sex slave again.