Under the Moon (37 page)

“It must have been the goddess. The one who cast the flame.”

“She what, teleported everyone?”

“No, but I think she cloaked them until she could get them out. Now please stop trying to divert me and tell me what’s wrong with Sam.”

Nick and Marley exchanged a look that said they knew how she’d react. Nick sighed and sank down next to her again.

“He’s still out.”

A sob welled in her chest, trapped. “Where is he?”

“Upstairs.”

She raised her eyebrows. “How did you get him there?”

“Wasn’t easy. Needed a Hoyer lift.” The joke fell flat. “He hasn’t moved. But it’s only been half an hour.”

“Let me see him.”

She expected Nick to say no, but he bent and hauled her into his arms to carry her upstairs.

“I can walk.”

“You need to rest.”

“What about your ribs? I know they were hurt.”

“Marley took the edge off. I’m fine.”

He wasn’t, of course. His legs shook, and his abs were rock hard against her side from his effort. She wasn’t exactly petite. But he was halfway up the flight of stairs already, and struggling would send them tumbling back down, so she held him around the neck and tried to balance her weight for him. She was so exhausted her need to recharge was on hold, but she knew it would be intense once it hit.

Plaster dust and shattered wood fragments littered the hallway at the top of the stairs. Quinn glimpsed a small hole in the common room ceiling before Nick turned right and set her down at the doorway to the room Sam was in. He clearly tried to mask that he was out of breath. Quinn squeezed his shoulder in thanks, but her attention went to her assistant, lying ghostly pale in the moonlight. She sat on the edge of the bed and put her hand on his chest, but Nick grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t, Quinn. You don’t have the energy.”

“I know.” She felt his heart beat under her palm. “Even if I can check him, I can’t fix him.”

“He’ll be okay.”

But he didn’t know, and neither did she.

“What I’m more concerned about,” Nick said, “is what that attack was supposed to accomplish.”

“I’m thinking the same thing.” Anson hadn’t been there. No one had tried to take Quinn or even harm her. The action had been peripheral, targeting the support team.

“I don’t know what the purpose was or if they accomplished it,” he stated. “But I know one thing for sure.”

Quinn finished for him. “They’ll be back.”

…

“You need to rest, Quinn.” Nick set his hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t move.

“I’m not leaving Sam.”

Marley spoke from the doorway. “Quinn, I’m not as depleted as you are. I can watch over him.”

“You’ve got your own people to take care of.”

“We’ll manage. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

Quinn tried to turn her head to argue, but it hurt too much to look over her shoulder. Her entire body throbbed and ached from channeling so much energy through it, making their point for them.

Quinn didn’t know what to do. She’d never felt so incapable in her entire adult life. Anson knew she was here, so her presence endangered everyone. Nick would never let her leave without him. He’d stand over her and fight to his last breath to keep her safe, but she’d rather lose her abilities to leeching than lose Nick forever. But the stakes were higher now. Anson obviously didn’t care whom he hurt.

Sam would tell her the despair she felt, the enormous weight of responsibility, was so heavy because of her fatigue. She smiled a little, hearing his voice in her head, but then she wanted to cry, watching him lying so still.

Nick’s cell phone buzzed. Frowning, he checked the display, then answered. “Yeah.” He cursed. “When?” After a few more one-word queries and responses, he hung up and shook his head. “Dammit.”

“Who was that?”

“John.”

His boss. “What happened?”

“He hit again.” Nick didn’t look over when Marley gasped.

“Another goddess was leeched?” Quinn squeezed out. “Where?”

“Boston.”

She stared at him for a few seconds, not getting it. “When?”

“Half an hour ago.” He walked stiffly to the wall and leaned against it, as if too tired to stand on his own anymore. “Which means he wasn’t even close to this battle. I don’t know if this was supposed to be a distraction or if he just wanted a shortened timeline, or maybe more juice to come after you himself.”

“Who did he get?” Quinn managed to ask. Her voice was barely audible, her body shutting down despite her struggles to focus on what Nick was telling them.

He named a goddess she didn’t know. “He didn’t drain her completely. He’d barely started when her protector stopped him, doing some damage he’ll have to recover from, according to John. Protector couldn’t hold on to him, though, and apparently he has a concussion and a busted hand. Goddess has been pulled in to the Society offices.”

“We have to get down there.” Quinn lurched to her feet, but her head swam and she hit the floor with a thud. She was barely aware of hands helping her down the hall to another bedroom, where she collapsed on the bed.
No. Have to go. Can’t let him…

And then she was out.

The first couple of hours were dreamless. She woke briefly, struggling to calculate what time it was based on how long she’d been asleep. It was still scarily difficult, and her eyes closed against her will.

This time, though, she dreamed. The unprecedented amount of power she’d channeled that night had overloaded her system. Now, with a little rest, she was rebounding, and her body clamored to recharge, desperate when it had been denied for so many cycles. First, it hummed, an engine driving a clawing hunger. Her pulse throbbed in her neck, her groin. She rolled onto her side and squeezed her thighs together. Her bra constricted around her heavy, swollen breasts. She ached—her throat, her nipples, between her legs.

There was no one here to address the need, so her subconscious punished her for it.

She dreamed of Sam, standing by the river back in Ohio. His bare toes curled into the silt at the water’s edge. The light was early-morning dim, so the green leaves and grass and water were dark while his skin looked like carved marble. His naked legs, ass, back, shoulders were all achingly familiar and daring her to touch. He shook back his shaggy dark hair, then dove into the water. He surfaced facing her, an abandoned grin on his face.

“C’mon, Quinn. Have some fun.” His tone left no doubt what kind of fun she should have.

Her body craved what had so often nourished it. Even as she stood unmoving on the bank she could feel the cool, silky water on her bare skin, then Sam’s strong, hard arms and legs around her. His penis inside her, stroking and pumping until she bit his neck, cut into his back with her fingernails, and exploded in a shower of light.

“You don’t kiss me,” he said, annoyed, and it was like the orgasm hadn’t happened, like the dream reset.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I can’t. It’s wrong.” Wrong to accept from him what she really wanted from someone else.

“It’s never wrong.” But he threw her away from him. She sank deep into the water, caught by the current that dragged her along, whirling and spinning up against rocks and surfacing only long enough to get a breath before being sucked under again. The maelstrom didn’t scare her, though. Even asleep, she knew the drowning was metaphorical, punishment for not slaking her lust. Drowning in need, not water.

She washed up onto shore on a bed. Everything was dry, but she was still naked. Silk bound her wrists to the bedposts and Nick sat next to her, fully dressed. His hands rested on his lap and she arched toward him, her body begging. He shook his head.

This was
her
dream. She could have what she wanted here, guilt free. The restraints disappeared and she grabbed the sides of Nick’s open flannel shirt and yanked him to her.

The woods and river vanished, and she was in her room at Marley’s inn, dimly lit with moonlight. She was naked and panting…

And she held Nick over her, his shirt fisted in her hands.

“Are you awake?” he murmured, his lips brushing hers.

She nodded, shocked.

“Good.”

His mouth crossed the last centimeter between them and closed over hers. At first it was simple, welcoming, but after a few seconds Nick opened his lips, parting hers, and dipped his tongue inside, just a touch. Quinn tightened her grip and pulled him closer, but he’d braced his arms on either side and held his weight off her. He concentrated on the kiss—the slow, devouring, savoring kiss.

Quinn had never been kissed like this before. It was as if that was all Nick wanted from her, all he would give. Yet the bold stroke of his tongue and the slight moan in the back of his throat told her there was going to be much, much more.

His right hand came off the bed and cupped the side of her face. His fingers stroked her hair behind her ear. He backed off a little, nipping at her mouth now while his hand caressed the side of her neck and top of her shoulder. Then he slipped it under her shoulder blade and lifted her against his chest.

He was so warm. Smelled so good. Need subsided into want, a low, rhythmic hum instead of a driving scream. Quinn loosened her grip on his shirt and pushed it back. He sat up and stripped it off, then pulled his T-shirt over his head before bending back to her.

Now she had flesh to touch, smooth skin rippling over powerful muscle. The low-burning embers caught. Her hands roamed across his chest, around to his back, where she gripped muscles and dug her nails in next to his spine.

“Nick,” she whispered, lost in him. Emotion trumped irrational hunger, and she wanted him because it was
him
, not because she couldn’t control her body.

“Quinn.” He came back for more kisses, their bodies rocking against each other. Nick rolled across her to lie at her side, his arms circling her. Quinn’s legs tangled in the sheet and she cursed. His mouth curved in a smile against her lips. She’d never felt anything so erotic. Need flared higher again, hotter, and she fought to get the sheet away, to unbutton his jeans, eliminate anything that kept them from being skin to skin.

“Slow down, baby.” He held her head with both hands now. “We’ve got time.”

“I can’t.” She stripped off his jeans and the briefs underneath, but when she would have taken him into her hand, he caught her wrist.

“I’m not a tool, Quinn.” His voice was hard and cut right into her. She stilled.

“Then maybe you don’t want to be here.”

“The hell I don’t. This is the only place I want to be.” He let her push him onto his back, but when she moved to straddle him he blocked her. “I want more than your body.”

He already had more. He had everything. How could he not know it? Her throat tightened. She wanted to tell him, to explain that years of pent-up longing combined with the moon lust were driving her insane, but the words wouldn’t squeeze through. She ran her hands across his broad chest and down his abs, watching the moonlight paint his skin with flickers. She raised her head to meet his eyes, letting him see everything she couldn’t say. This time, when she swung her leg across his hips, he didn’t stop her. His lips parted as he drew in a sharp breath, and his fingers tightened on her hips, his thumbs in the creases of her thighs.

Then he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her down to him, meeting her mouth with a hot, plunging kiss. Quinn moaned and straightened her legs so she lay fully on top of him, touching everywhere. His arms wrapped around her back, his hand tunneling up into her hair.

Quinn bent her head to his collarbone, inhaling as she tasted him. Leather, musk, salt, and sin. She slid down, running her tongue along ridges and nipping with her teeth, reveling in the harshness of his breathing. His fingers tangled in her hair, massaged her scalp, then wrapped her hair tight around them. He tensed as she went lower and jerked when her hand brushed his cock.

It was longer than her hand, hot and silky, and hard as stone when she squeezed it. When she wrapped her lips around the head, he stopped breathing and froze. She licked as much as she could reach, then pushed her mouth down. Licked again, took him deeper, as low as she could go. She sucked hard as she moved back up.