BlackMoon Reaper (13 page)

sister was lying on the floor, her body bruised, her head twisted at a strange angle.”

Another tear fell. “He was sprawled on the bed—drunk as a jester.” She tugged at the

twisted garment in her hand. “I went into the kitchen, got a knife and then I stabbed

him.” She took a hitching breath. “Then I stabbed him again and again and again until

he stopped breathing.”

Phelan went to her, hunkered down in front of her, drawing her surprised attention

back to him. For just a flicker of a moment she looked as though she didn’t recognize

him then she tried to smile.

“I killed a man, Phelan,” she said. “I killed him and I knew the law would be after

me. I knew if they caught me I’d hang so I ran. I took every bit of money I could find in

his pockets and I ran. I kept running. When I ran out of money, I whored for it, I stole, I

cheated, I did whatever it took to get me to the Exasla Territory. I changed my name so

no one would know who I was. I worked the seediest brothels between here and

Calizonia until I had enough money to hire my own stable of girls.”

“You did what you had to,” he said, placing his hands over hers to still their

agitated twisting.

“The law is after me, Phelan. The law will always be after me,” she said.

He caressed her hands with one of his and reached up to push a stray wisp of hair

from her face with the other. “Lucy, I
am
the law,” he said.

“I killed a man,” she protested.

“Where did this happen?” he asked. “In what territory?”

“Wismin.”

“That’s Owen Tohre’s jurisdiction. As I see it, you carried out a sentence he would

have had he known what Barker had done. I’ll talk to him. We’ll see you’re cleared of

any murder charges.”

Hope entered her eyes. “You can do that?” she asked.

“I can and I will,” he said. “Barker didn’t deserve to live. I want you to give me the

name of that brothel, and if it’s still being run, if they are still selling little girls to

pedophiles, Owen will shut them down and bring the owners and johns to justice.” He

reached up to cup her chin. “I’ll make it right for you, dearling.”

Lucy slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. She

was trembling with the emotions rippling through her.

“Are you ready to go back to the room?” he asked, knowing she needed to be

around other people to get her mind from the past.

She hiccupped. “I haven’t peed yet,” she admitted.

He laughed, getting to his feet, her arms slipping from his body. “Then hop to,

wench.”

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BlackMoon Reaper

Lucy was sniffling as he walked to the door and opened it. “You’ll be right

outside?” she asked, wrestling with her gown.

“Aye,” he said, closing the door behind him. He stood outside in the corridor,

wishing he could resurrect Silus Barker and tear the guts out of the bastard. When the

door opened a crack, he glanced around.

“Phelan?” she whispered.

“Aye?”

He could smell her heady arousal and the only thought that went through his mind

at that moment was she was picking a piss-poor time to want to get amorous.

The door opened fully and he saw her standing there—as naked as the day she’d

been born.

“I’ve got a problem,” she said, running her tongue over her lips.

“And what’s that, milady?” he asked.

She opened the door a bit wider, her slender hand caressing its edge. One bare

thigh crooked between the jamb and the portal.

“I think you know, Reaper.”

He pushed away from the wall and turned to face her. “Don’t you think this is a

bad time to be—”

Her hand shot to his shirt and her fingers—stronger than he could have imagined—

gripped his arm. She flung the door open, pulling him into the room with her before

releasing him, slamming the door shut and putting her back to it with her hands behind

her.

“Humor me,” she said, arching her back so her lush breasts rose in invitation.

“Lucy…” he drawled, her name a warning.

“Phelan,” she replied with a twist of sultry lips.

He heard the snick of the lock as she sealed them in the room.

“I want you,” she said then shook her head. “No, I need you.”

“Now?” he questioned, although his cock was throbbing so hard it was out-

pounding his headache.

“I need you,” she repeated, and he could see the desire in her eyes mixing with

something that—should he deny it—might crush her gentle spirit.

He had allowed the magistrate’s son and daughter to lead him into experimenting

with sex and to set the tone for what would come. Truian would not allow him to take

her as a lad takes his lady for she dared not lose her virginity before Joining with

whatever suitable male her parents chose for her. Oral sex to her was something she

delighted in receiving and giving so their lovemaking pleasured them both. Her brother

Tylan, on the other hand, had preferred the giving rather than the receiving, wanting

only Phelan’s hands on his shaft but never the younger man’s mouth—engaging in

some kind of morbid fear that his cock would be bitten off during the act or some such

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

rubbish. Nor would Tylan allow Phelan to thrust inside him because Ty had felt it

wasn’t sanitary.

So it was that over the years, Phelan tended to continue being rather passive with

his sexual encounters. He could take or leave them, though joking about such things

gave him a great deal of pleasure. He very rarely initiated the act and though he never

left a partner frustrated or wanting, the only oral sex he’d given had been to the women

whose mouths returned the favor. The men with whom he’d spent passionate times had

used their mouths and hands on him, but he had not returned the favor.

“Don’t you want me?” she asked, hurt entering her gaze.

“Aye, wench, I do.”

She lowered one hand to rub at the rise her nearness was eliciting. She arched a

brow. “What do we have here, Reaper?”

At that moment, something wild shot through the Reaper. He wanted her—no—he

needed
her too. He grabbed Lucy, molding his palm to her firm, plump breast. He was

frantic to have her, to be inside her. Something strange was happening to him,

overwhelming him, taking complete charge of him. But it felt right. It
was
right! he

thought.

“Lucy-Lou, I need you,”
he heard the goddess whisper in his ear.

“I need you!” he hissed. “Merciful Alel, I need you, Lucy!”

“Aye,” Lucy breathed. He was fumbling with the buttons of his pants, huffing in

frustration, but then he cursed and flung out his hand to render himself naked.

“That is such a useful talent!” she said with a giggle.

Jamming his hands under her luscious rump, he lifted her higher against the door

and she wrapped her legs around his as though she were a vine. She wriggled against

his jutting cock, jockeying for a better position from which to impale her moist sheath

on his shaft.

His fingers digging into her buttocks, he shifted her a bit higher then rammed her

down on his erection, going into her heated channel as deep as his shaft would reach.

He heard her grunt from the pleasure-pain of his penetration. He dipped his head and

his lips circled her nipple to draw hard upon it.

Her hands were buried in his thick hair. His hips were rhythmically rocking

forward and back against her—not hurriedly but with firm determination. He was

thrusting into her slick tunnel, forcing her up the door with each firm stroke.

“Aye, my Reaper,” she whispered, squeezing the muscles of her cunt around his

shaft. “Harder. Do it harder!”

He arched his back and drove into her with all his strength. The feel of her hot, wet

cunt around him was making his head spin. He’d never known such wondrous delight

from the mouths of the whores and men who had serviced him over the years. Plunging

into her slick, heated channel, having her tightening her cunt around his hard shaft,

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BlackMoon Reaper

inhaling the combined scent of his pre-cum and her vaginal juices were all combined to

do things to him he had never dreamed of feeling.

“Lucy,” he growled, his lips against her soft breast. “I love this.” He looked up at

her, shocked by the realization that had seized him. “By the gods, I love it!”

Lucy smiled. “Then come for me, stud,” she said. “Come hard and long for your

woman!”

Her words were like a prod goading him on and he increased the speed of his

thrusts, grunting with each forward movement of his hips. He adjusted his stance and

the muscles of his taut ass tightened as he slammed into her. The sound of their flesh

meeting made him growl again.

“Come for me,” she said again as her own need soared higher and higher.

He could feel the release building in his loins. It was a burning, itching, frenzied

pain he knew would become an overwhelming pleasure the moment it came to fruition.

He was pounding against her. Her grip on his hair was almost painful as she held onto

him. He widened his stance once more then the climax came—powerful and strong—so

potent he saw black stars skittering across his vision. The ejaculation was thick and full,

and when it shot out of him, he thought he’d pass out. The sound that came from the

very core of him was filled with acute, intense pleasure and he continued to thrust into

her until the very last drop of semen oozed from his cock.

At some point he had felt her own climax gripping him—pulsing, rippling,

undulating over his flesh—so he knew he had pleasured her, but it was his own

immense satisfaction that made his knees weak. He gripped her ass tight and turned,

going over to the edge of the claw foot tub to sit down on the rim with her cunt still

clinging to his withering cock. He sat, dropped his head to her shoulder—breathing

hard, heart pumping, sweat glistening on his chest and upper arms.

“I’d say you enjoyed that,” Lucy said, stroking his hair.

“You gods-be-damned near killed me, wench,” he panted.

“Aye, but you claimed me, Reaper. I am your mate now and we will never be apart,

one from the other.”

He lifted his head and looked into her smiling eyes. There was enormous

satisfaction glittering there and he wasn’t altogether sure she hadn’t laid a silken trap

for him, but there was something else he was stunned to recognize. She was gazing

back at him with affection.

“You’re my mate,” he whispered, awe rife in his husky voice.

“That I am.” She toyed with a curl of his chest hair. “I will make you a loyal, loving

mate. I swear it, Phelan.”

“I have a house in Vircars,” he said, and winced at how stupid that sounded.

“Where you are, I will be,” she said.

“You won’t mind leaving the life you’ve been living?” he asked.

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

She pivoted her head so she could gaze up at him through her lashes. “Will you

miss the occasional bawd and lusty male?”

He shook his head. “No, I will not.”

“Then you have your answer,” she said with a sigh.

He held her for another moment or two then rose to his feet, letting her slide down

his body. He waved his hand and they were dressed again—this time he had adorned

himself in the black clothing of his station. She was clothed in a somewhat more demure

count that covered much of her spectacular bosom.

“We’d best get down to the kitchen,” he said, going to the door and undoing the

lock. “They’re going to wonder what’s keeping us.”

“They’ll know,” she said with a wink.

Phelan felt a faint tinge of heat creep onto his cheeks. He poked his head out the

door just to be on the safe side, saw no trouble lurking, and reached back to take her

hand. Together they went downstairs, their fingers locked.

Aye, he thought, they would know for he felt himself walking as though he were

ten feet tall.

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BlackMoon Reaper

The sleeping arrangements had proven very satisfactory. Deal had kept one of the

mattresses for himself since no one was inclined to share the stench that rolled off the

old man in waves. Although Lucy would have preferred to sleep beside Phelan, she had

shared a mattress with Nellie. Phelan and Fontabeau had taken turns keeping watch,

catching a few winks on the mattress occupied by Brell when they could.

It rained all night long and the air turned frigid. When the first rosy fingers of dawn

scratched at the windows, there was a decided nip in the air and frost rimming the

rooftops.

“Hopefully Deputy Redfield will be along shortly,” Phelan told Fontabeau. They

had gone downstairs to light the stove and make a pot of coffee. He shoved a cord of

wood into the potbellied stove.

“I’ve been pondering the question of what the hell the turned townspeople are

doing up at the mine,” Fontabeau said. “It makes no sense. Why not either leave them

here or send them out to other towns?”

“Something is going on up there,” Phelan said. “Maybe the Ceannus are further

enhancing them in some way.”

“By the goddess, that’s a frightening thought,” Fontabeau allowed.

“What is?”

Both men turned to see Lucy standing in the door.

“Wench, why aren’t you upstairs where we left you?” Phelan snapped. He strode