Thief of Light (43 page)

“Yes, damn you! I—
nngh
—get it!”

Erik placed his lips between her shoulder blades and made a noise against her skin that went beyond words, a sort of purring growl, redolent of dark anticipation and masculine satisfaction. Sliding his hands down the fronts of her thighs, he gripped her knees and pulled her legs back straight, lowering her flat to the surface of the bed, her hips still slightly elevated by the pillow.

Startled, Prue tried to turn her head, but he slid his arms up under her to curl strong fingers back over her shoulders. The heated width of his chest lowered slowly to rest all along her spine, his body sealed to hers so that she was pinned, utterly helpless. Erik nuzzled her neck, licking a long, sizzling line up her pulse.

“Now,” he growled in his dark velvet voice, “now I’m going to fuck you, Prue, like you’ve never been fucked before.”

Prue had gone beyond speech, but gods, it was the oddest position. It would never work, it—

Erik began to move, setting up a long, deliberate stroke, and she realized at once how little she’d understood. Each withdrawal was a dark, fiery drag past the unyielding curves of the plug, each thrust back in a thick, luscious invasion. The angle was shallow, but perfect, his cock long as well as wide, so that as he picked up the pace, he hit her clit from behind with each thrust. When his flesh smacked into hers, his weight jarred the plug, jostling it. Erik was everywhere—in her sex, her ass, his huge body blanketing hers with power, his hoarse breath hot and moist against her throat.

She’d thought she’d had some idea of what it meant to submit, to give control to another, but even her most vivid imaginings had been nothing like this. The pleasure was so dark, so overwhelming, her vision began to haze. Panicked, she thrashed beneath him, tugging against the ropes.

Erik slowed, though he didn’t entirely stop. “I’ve got you, love.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “You’re safe.”

The darkness receded somewhat. Beyond pride, stripped bare, Prue slipped one hand free of the bonds and reached back to bury it in his hair. She turned her head to meet his eyes. “Promise?”

“On my honor.” The smile that curved his lips was suffused with a bittersweet tenderness. “You’re strong and beautiful, and I love you.” He kissed the inside of her forearm. “Ready for more?” His hips moved in an instinctive shimmy he seemed unable to prevent.

Prue hissed at the lightning whips of sensation. “I feel like I might pass out.”

“No, you won’t. I’ll catch you.” Another heart-wrenching smile. “I’ll never let you fall.”

Prue wriggled her hips, clenching on his hardness. “Please.”

His eyes darkened. “Wait, let me . . .” She felt his knuckles brush her buttocks, a snap and a small noise as he threw the cock ring aside. “Oh, fuck—” A tide of red ran up from his throat to his cheeks. “Remember,” he rasped. “Not ’til I say.”

With that, he was surging into her, deep, hard strokes with his full, fat length, giving her no quarter.

Not that she wanted any, because she was flying on the relentless physical stimulation, as high as if she rode a gathering storm front of purple-dark clouds. The fierce pressure in her ass and her sex merged into an imperative she could no longer deny, swelling behind her quivering clit. The pleasure had become so acute, it approached exquisite agony.

Inexorably, the storm swept closer, no matter how she struggled to hold it back.

Her head thrashed on the pillow. “Erik!”

The rhythm paused for a second, then resumed. “Ten seconds,” he growled. “Count with me. Ten, nine, eight—”

In sheer desperation, Prue grabbed his hand and sucked an index finger deep into her mouth, lashing at it with her tongue.

Erik made a guttural noise, a cross between a sob, a groan and a laugh. “Fuck it! Now, love.
Now!
”

The snap and recoil of the releasing tension made her buck and writhe. Keening around the hard finger in her mouth, Prue let herself tumble toward the dark. Flashing sparks of light darted across the inside of her eyelids, stars and comets and haloes of lightning. She was dissolving, spinning, losing her grip on consciousness. Gods, this degree of intensity wasn’t possible, she’d never, never—

Erik caught her, as he’d promised he would, his cheek pressed to hers, his deep voice calling her name, pulling her back into his heat, his solidity and strength. Prue gasped and shook with reaction, tears streaking her cheeks.

He stiffened, his hips jerking as he poured his life, his essence, into her body. “Love you,” he groaned into her neck. “Love, love you.”

She pressed back against him, clenching her internal muscles, making it as good for him as she could. For endless, precious seconds, he froze, buried deep, his pulse marching with hers. At last, he relaxed with a shuddering sigh. “Ah, Prue.”

In the silence, she could hear their breaths rasping together. After a moment, he braced himself on his elbows. “You all right?”

Prue swallowed. “Not sure.”

Gently, Erik withdrew and rolled aside. He gazed deep into her eyes, his own shining a deep and vivid blue. Whatever he saw, he seemed to be reassured, because he leaned forward to press his lips against hers. “Back in a minute.” He loosed the last of the silken ropes. “Close your eyes. Rest.”

Prue did as she was bid, rousing only to murmur a sleepy protest when he removed the plug and made her comfortable with a warm, wet cloth. She sensed movement, water running in the bath chamber. Returning, he patted her dry, then settled beside her, arranging her body to his satisfaction, her head tucked into his shoulder, her palm resting over his heart.

He curled a lock of her hair around one finger. “You’re a wicked woman, Prue McGuire.”

“Mmm?”

“You tipped me over before I was ready. I should beat you.”

Prue dragged the scent of his skin into her lungs, nuzzling her nose into the pit of his throat. “Not now. In the morning.”

His fingertips skated over her hip in slow, wobbly circles. “I proved my point,” he said at last, not sounding any too pleased.

Prue yawned. “Uh-huh.”

“You did something for me you’ve never done before. Because of the Voice.”

But she hadn’t. She’d done it because she was a grown woman who knew her own mind. Her decision had already been made when he’d spoken to her in that extraordinary way. Merciful Sister, she had to admit it had been everything she’d dreamed of—a life-altering experience. She hadn’t had the slightest desire to resist, Voice or no Voice, though she could have, she was sure. She should let him know that, stop him taking it all so seriously.

Prue opened her mouth to tell him, but exhaustion tugged at her in great dark waves, so that all she could manage was, “N-nonsense.”

The last thing she heard was Erik’s sigh as he stroked her hair.

A light breeze drifted in through the open window, bringing with it the scent of a world newly washed and the singing class working its way through a series of arpeggios. How lovely, thought Prue, settling her cheek on the pile of papers on her desk. Ah, that was better. Her body felt like well-worked putty, every muscle humming and utterly content. She purred, wriggling a little in the chair, relishing the frisson that ran down her spine to spread over the cheeks of her bottom. Sweet Sister, she still couldn’t quite credit what she’d done—what she’d allowed, trusted Erik to do to her. There was nothing left of Prue McGuire that wasn’t his.

How had he known? Just enough and no more. Even the tenderness deep within was welcome, her internal tissues still tingling with the memory of ecstasy.

Erik’s voice rose on the air, his deep bell tones flirting with the silvery timbre of the flute. Prue’s yawn finished with a smile. A love song, and it felt as if he sang it for her alone. It sounded ancient, the words exquisitely simple, describing the singer’s first sight of his beloved’s face. He’d thought the sun rose in her eyes. A tear trickled down and plopped onto a column of figures. Hastily, she sat up to deal with the blot.

With the movement, a tendril of unease unfurled in the pit of her stomach. Prue banished it, but it sneaked back, bringing a host of whispering brethren. A chill spread over her, until even her fingertips were cold.

Someone wished him ill. Behind her eyelids, she saw Dai’s lithe body bent up like a bow in his agony. Oh gods,
prettydeath
! Her skin crawled with the presentiment of evil. Erik was a singer, a
performer
, for the Sister’s sake. Yes, there was power in that tall, athletic physique, but what would he know of violence? Her fingers went white on the ink brush.

Last night, or rather early this morning, she’d collapsed, asleep the moment he settled beside her. Dimly, she’d been aware of the big body spooned around hers, the heavy arm he threw around her waist. Murmuring her content, she’d snuggled. It seemed only a moment before he was nuzzling her cheek, stroking her breasts, her belly, her buttocks.

“Sweetheart,” he’d whispered. “It’s dawn. I have to get something from the boarding house and be back before singing class. Kiss me.”

Without opening her eyes, she rolled over and offered her mouth. He’d taken it as if he owned it. Long, languorous kisses, her hands smoothing over his beautiful shoulders and strong spine, then clinging hard, fingers gripping.

Panting, he’d forced himself away and she blinked up at him, standing naked and magnificently aroused by the bed. “Fuck, woman, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” she asked drowsily. “Mmm.” She raised her arms over her head and stretched, luxuriating in her power. “Where are you going? Come back here.”

Erik gave a hoarse chuckle. “Godsdammit, if I do I’ll never leave.” He spun on his heel and headed for the bathroom, swearing under his breath.

Prue turned her face into the pillow, his scent surrounding her. She dozed off.

When his lips ghosted over her cheek, she murmured her pleasure. “I’ll come for you after singing class,” he murmured, nibbling a trail down the side of her neck. “For our appointment with the Queen’s Money.”

Not even that could disturb her. “Mmm.” When she reached for him, Erik was gone. It was only later that she realized she’d forgotten to warn him to watch his back.

She’d gone down to the kitchens for a late breakfast, needing to ground her shaky emotions, wanting the calm of Katrin’s presence, but her daughter had taken one glance and her brow had furrowed. “I heard about the Open Cabal.” Deftly, she removed a tray of rolls from the oven, setting it down on the bench next to a row of others. “Bloody hell, Mam, five hundred credits!”

“Don’t swear.” It came out automatically.

“Well, it’s a lot.” Katrin was unrepentant. “It’s not good for your reputation either. Here.” She placed a steaming cup in front of her mother, tipped a couple of rolls onto a pretty plate and opened a bottle of conserve. “Eat something.”

“Erik said he’d pay. We’ll still arguing about it. And I did see the seelies,” she mumbled through a warm, sweet mouthful.

“Sister, how wonderful!” Katrin’s face lit up, reminding Prue of the little girl who’d loved fairy tales. “So he was telling the truth, after all?”

“About that, yes.”

“People are saying you’re as mad as he is,” came Rose’s voice from the door. She sauntered in, perfectly groomed and ready for the day. “Katrin, Cook’s down at the water stairs in hysterics. Something to do with moldy taters and a cheeky delivery boy.” She waved an elegant hand. “Would you mind?”

Katrin rolled her eyes. “I’m gone,” she said, whisking out the door.

Rose found another cup and seated herself opposite Prue. “You’re late for breakfast this morning,” she observed mildly.

Prue made a noncommittal noise, cursing the heat in her cheeks.

“Ah,” said Rose. “Thought so.” The shadow of a cheeky grin. “How are you this beautiful morning, my dear?”

“None of your business.” Prue shifted slightly on the seat, the memories astonishingly vivid.

Rose chuckled. “That good, huh?” After a short silence, she reached across the table to take Prue’s hands in hers. “What’s wrong, love? I heard about the seelie thing.”

Prue shook her head. “It’s not that, or at least, that’s not all.” Carefully, she put her cup down. “Someone tried to poison Erik last night.”

“
What?
”

It took her half an hour to tell the whole tale and another half hour to persuade Rose that going straight to Dai’s bedside would be no help at all.

“Sister save us, this is awful. Poor Dai. All because I accepted Er ik’s invitation to the queen’s reception.” Drying her eyes, Rose shot Prue a shrewd glance. “How serious
is
it between you?”

Prue hunched her shoulders. “Don’t want to talk about it.”

“Not good enough. You’re my friend and I love you. But Erik Thorensen?” Rose shrugged. “I like him well enough. No question that he’s handsome. But obviously, I don’t I know him at all.” She leaned forward, all amusement gone. “Do you?”