Avalon
Drumming his fingers on the desk, he continued to stare
at her, a frown marring his features. Black, wavy hair
tumbled over his forehead, and the scowl sat rather well
on his poetically handsome face. His normally smiling
mouth was compressed into a grim line, and his straight
black brows pulled down over his deep, deep, brown eyes.
High, chiseled cheekbones and a mouth that no plastic
surgeon could ever hope to duplicate completed his face,
a face that had started setting girls to dreaming before
he even got to junior high.
Erin knew he was watching her. Hell, she thought with
inner amusement, he had always watched her from the day
she had left her uniform behind and entered the private
sanctum of Avalon’s small detective force. Even before
that, she suspected.
Idly, as if just noticing his scrutiny, she glanced up at
Seth and smiled at him as a shiver raced down her spine.
Just looking at him—even after two years of being his lover
and friend—just looking at him was enough to make her mouth
water and her knees go weak.
His lids drooped slightly as one corner of his mouth lifted.
Erin’s heart starting racing as his eyes focused on her
mouth before trailing down her neck and torso, lazily
working back up again until he was once more staring into
her eyes.
The
Empath's Lover
Even in her sleep, she had realized it wasn’t Lee holding
her. Angelo was trying hard not to be too satisfied with
that as he slid from the bed. He laid a hand on her brow and
told himself he was just doing it for her own good as he
made sure she wasn’t going to wake up too soon.
She seriously did need to sleep.
About ten years ago Angelo had developed a new talent,
something connected to his empathy, something that allowed
him to do what he had done to Jordan earlier. Just guided
her into sleep. He had used it to hypnotize others before, a
few times. He used it rarely because he was uncomfortable
with it. People shouldn’t have gifts that could allow them
to coerce others.
And if Jordan hadn’t been through what she had been through
today…
Damn it, he really wanted ten minutes alone with Lee. Just
ten fucking minutes. How in the fuck—
He felt the pressure on his mind and left the room before he
acknowledged it. It was Lee, looking for him. The touch was
like a knocking on the inside of his mind. Angelo could have
ignored him but there was no point. Yet.
What in the fuck do you want?
Where in the hell are you? Where’s Jordan?
Lee
demanded.
None of your business, bro. She gave you your ring back,
remember?
That’s for me and her to discuss. Bring her back.
Otherwise, I’ll find her.
Angelo smirked and flopped down on his couch, staring out
the window into the darkness of the night. You can always
try.
He felt the presence of Lee’s reach as he probed and he felt
Lee’s surprise as he easily deflected it. Surprise, big
brother, Angelo said, laughing out loud. If you had
bothered to keep in touch, you might have realized little
brother has been discovering some new tricks.
Jordan is mine, Lee said flatly. Lee’s mental voice
was as clear to Angelo as though he was standing in the
room. When he chose, he could even make others without the
talent hear it. But Lee hadn’t realized that somewhere along
the line, Angelo had picked up those same gifts. And Lee
hadn’t developed any new talents at all.
You don’t love her, Lee. You hurt her. Even if she never
found out, you still hurt her. Kait was her best friend and
you two betrayed her. It’s unforgivable. If you loved her,
it wouldn’t have happened.
Stay out of this, Angelo. You just want her because she’s
mine, Lee warned.
Wrong, Angelo said quietly. He opened his eyes and
thought of Jordan, sleeping in his sprawling bed under the
skylight, her eyes still swollen from the tears she had
cried on the ride up here. She cried, Lee. For hours. You
hurt her, and you don’t really care about anything except
losing what she can do for you. She’s not yours.
She’s mine now, and I’m keeping her, he said softly.
Mythe
“I’m not in hell,” Pepper told him quietly, her voice a
conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve lost my damn mind.”
It wasn’t an unusual response. Not for the adults who
tumbled through the Gate. Arys smiled at her, revealing
white, wickedly sharp teeth, his swarthy, lean face lighting
with his smile, transforming with it. “I am not surprised,
no, to hear you say,” he said slowly, forcing the unusual
words over his tongue while he studied her. He was going to
have to touch her.
And he really did not want to do so.
Touching her meant he was going to feel her again, not just
her soft skin, but her thoughts, her emotions, while he
convinced her that she was in a real place. Mythe wasn’t
something she’d dreamed, or some make-believe world she had
entered. He could not just block such things, it wasn’t
possible. The magick in his blood wouldn’t allow him to
convince her how very real Mythe was, but still allow him to
keep himself separate from her.
And at the same time…his hands itched to touch her again. To
move over that sweet mortal body, to taste her. His cock
throbbed underneath the garment he had donned. Get it over
and done, Arys, he told himself.
He laid the pads of his fingers lightly on her cheek and
dove into her mind. Satyr. She was familiar with the word.
She was full of bright, burning energy, knowledge, a pure
silvery, shining magick. She may not have opened the Gate
this day, but she would have been able to eventually.
Curiosity and wonder and love and faith, heaven above, she
was almost like a child with all the awe he felt inside her.
Arys felt something inside her he hadn’t expected to find. A
very, very strong sexual pull, toward him.
And disappointment, all centered—
Oh, for the love of the unicorn, spare me. Disgust and
irritation shuddered through Arys as pictures and images
flitted through her mind, all within a few brief moments
while he stared into her odd eyes, one was green, one was
blue. Pictures she had seen in different places, but
pictures of satyrs in very unlikely scenarios—because the
satyrs were all men and they were only fucking each other.
Not that it didn’t happen, but it wasn’t the norm. Satyrs
were generally drawn to females, be they satyr, elf, human,
vampire, or dryad. But the satyr male tended to prefer the
female, contrary to what this female had learned in the
mortal realm.
And now a new picture…she was trying to imagine him in those
pictures.
Revulsion rolled through Arys. He had no qualms if others
like him chose such pastimes. But not for him. His long
dormant libido flared to sudden and rampant life. He
certainly didn’t want this sweet thing thinking…
“Not bloody likely, lass,” he whispered roughly, moving his
hand, sweeping his fingers down along her cheek, across her
jaw until he could bury his fingers inside the fire of her
hair, cupping her head and forcing her gaze to meet his.
“You mortals and your damn misconceptions. Let us see if we
cannot fix at least this one.”
And then he lowered his head and covered her berry-pink
mouth with his, pushing past the barrier of her lips and
teeth with his tongue while she gasped in shock. He swung
onto the bed, jerking the sheets down, pulling her lower
body into close contact with his muscled thighs and rubbing
his cock against her as he swept his tongue across hers,
stroked her palate, tasted her. Her mouth widened greedily
under his and Arys plundered deep, drinking in the taste of
sweet, warm female.
He rolled atop her slim form and wedged his thighs between
hers, rocking his thick, aching cock against her cleft while
she moaned and whimpered underneath him, and the ridiculous
pictures in her mind faded into nothingness. Once she was
focused on him, and nothing else, he slid one long-fingered
palm up her side and closed it over her breast, pinching the
diamond-hard peak and rolling it as he sucked her tongue
into his mouth and bit down.
He had never touched a mortal so—hadn’t ever really wanted
to. He’d been with faeries before, satyr females, elves, a
few vampire ladies, but never a human. Damnation, heaven and
hell, she tasted so sweet, innocent and hot. He groaned, low
and rough and pulled his mouth from hers to kiss his way
down her throat, biting her skin gently over her throbbing
pulse as he worked his way down her body to settle at her
breasts.
“Only the body of a woman excites me, sweet,” he murmured,
staring at her full round breasts, the puckered, reddened
nipples, the light-blue tracery of veins just beneath the
surface of her pale satiny skin. “The way they smell, and
look, and taste…”
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