Mystical Seduction: full-length sensual paranormal romance (The Protectors) (8 page)

Faith grabbed his hair and groaned. His fingers dug into her
hips, holding her firmly while she gripped his hair. He sucked on her swollen
nub until she felt wild with need.

Horace scraped her soft flesh with his teeth.

He wouldn’t
.

She squirmed against his mouth when he sucked on her
throbbing flesh again.

Please, she silently begged. She wanted this. She wanted
everything he could give her.

While she panted and moaned, he rained kisses over her upper
thighs, teasing her. Driving her senses into overload. She cried out with
pleasure when he nipped the tender skin between her leg and crotch. He then
licked the sting. All the while, his hands roamed between her legs, stroking
her, caressing her.

Just like last night, his touch had the ability to wipe away
coherent thoughts. She became nothing more than a bundle of pleasure.

Feeling.

Experiencing.

Loving.

He slipped one finger into her. And then another.

She rode his hand, pushing against him. He pressed deeper
and deeper into her. A third finger joined the other two. With it came another
bite. This one much harder than the first, but the sting got all mixed up with
the pulsing pressure building between her legs.

“Ohhh,” she cried while his strokes grew heavier and more
demanding. She was swimming in sensations that were swirling around her and
inside her. She felt like she was spinning deeper and deeper. Fuller and
fuller. His teeth scraped against her sensitive flesh and then dug into her
skin, sending her thoughts spiraling back into the erotic.

His mouth was oh so close to where his fingers were pumping
her, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if he sank his teeth
into her sensitive folds that were now throbbing with need.

Faith wanted him inside her. She bucked against his pulsing
fingers while wishing that he would enter her. She needed to feel his large
cock between her legs, to feel him press deep inside her.

Horace smiled at her enthusiasm, and pushed a fourth finger
into her, stretching her. She felt tight, and his fingers moving in and out of
her made her feel vividly alive. She let her head drop back onto the floor and
gave herself over to the sensation of him plucking her body like he would a
stringed instrument.

And the feel of his teeth and his hot mouth against her
flesh became a rhythm that matched the movement of his fingers pumping into
her. His teeth scraped her tender flesh. And then his tongue tasted her. Faith
became his meal. His lover. His strength.

Her body grew tauter and tauter. She wanted this to last
forever. But at the same time, she felt herself reaching a pinnacle.

She cried out and arched her back off the floor as his teeth
ripped into the skin beside her tender folds, marking her for a second time,
making sure that she knew that she belonged to him.

A rainbow of colors swirled around them as she felt herself
slipping off the edge of that lovely abyss. She had never felt so connected to
another. She had never loved so fully—

A flash.

A memory slammed into her.

She couldn’t quite hold onto the images bombarding her mind.
There were too many. And were of lands and peoples that didn’t make any sense
to her.

Horace roared and pushed her away.

“
We can’t
.” His breath turned ragged. His heart
thudded an uneven beat underneath Faith’s palm.

“We can’t,” he said again as if trying to convince himself.

It took considerable effort to push herself up onto her
elbow. “Why?” she asked, sounding as confused as he looked. “What-what’s going
on? Why can’t we do this?”

He was rubbing his temples and squinting—all telling signs
of one whooper of a headache.

“
I
can’t,” he amended.

“Because your head hurts?” She tried to be understanding.
She truly did. But his timing couldn’t have been worse. And why wouldn’t he
look at her?

Feeling naked and more than a little vulnerable, Faith
hugged her legs to her chest and tried to ignore the throb between her legs.

“Have you tried aspirin?” she asked.

Horace rubbed his hand over his eyes. “I don’t know what the
hell I’m doing. Don’t you understand? This is wrong. We were wrong to play this
game. It’s dangerous…too dangerous. You and I can never be together. Never. I
can’t be with anyone. Not without—without—”

Without what? she wanted to shout at him.

Wasn’t it the woman who was supposed to be fickle? Didn’t a
man pounce at the chance for sex like a dog would tear into a steak?

Faith dropped her head to her knees to hide the tears in her
eyes.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said, which almost made
her laugh.

Horace didn’t want her to get hurt, did he? Well, it’s too
late for that, buster.

She hurt. And not just her body, which still felt aroused
and needy and cried out for his touch. Her ego had been bruised. And her heart—

She didn’t even want to think about what all of this had
done to her heart. It felt all twisted about.

“I’m afraid that if I get involved with you that you’ll lose
more than you have already,” he amended.

“Oh.” Faith hugged her legs tighter and stared at a point on
the floor. Not looking at him seemed to make it easier for her to accept his
rejection. “This is about what happened last night? And why you didn’t want to
call the police?”

When Horace didn’t say anything, she added, “It’s obvious
that you’re in trouble. That’s why I came to talk to you this morning. I came
to get answers.”

“I don’t have any I can give you.”

“I see.” She reached for her pile of clothes. But Faith had
one question that needed to be asked. “What about the bullet wound? That man
shot you in the chest last night. There had been so much blood, too much blood.
But today you’re okay. Why?”

“You saved me.”

The pain in her temples flared. She shook her head, trying
to will the pain away. “That’s-that’s impossible.”

Horace looked up at her.

She could feel the press of his gaze.

“It
is
impossible, isn’t it?” she asked.

“If you remember what happened last night, Faith, you know
the truth.”

Now she felt a need to rub
her
throbbing temples.
“But it hurts to remember.”

“Then don’t. Go,” Horace said. There was a power in his
voice. Faith had heard him use that power before. “Go back to your university.
Forget that you ever met me. Forget about last night. Live the life you were
meant to live.”

Though she nodded that she would forget, Faith knew she
could never forget him. Deep down she knew fate wanted her to take this path.

Horace needed her
.

She reached out and closed her hand over his. It took
considerable courage for her to risk yet another rejection. But she refused to
give up. Not on him. Though she barely knew Horace, Faith couldn’t find it in
her heart to give up on him. They’d been made for each other. What had happened
last night had happened for a reason.

Faith climbed onto his lap and straddled his hips. It wasn’t
about whether he wanted her or not. She already knew he wanted her.

Without saying a word—words seemed too risky right now—she
pressed herself against the length of Horace’s hard chest. Swirling her tongue,
she flicked the nub of her piercing against the velvety skin of his ear.

“Don’t to that,” Horace groaned, but he didn’t push her
away.

Encouraged, Faith sucked on his earlobe. His skin tasted
salty and warm. Hmmm, what an enticing flavor. She wanted more. She wanted him.
She tried to unbutton his blue cotton shirt, but he caught her wrists with an
unbreakable grip and held them over her head.

When she tried to tease his earlobe with her pierced tongue
again, he pulled away.

His gaze pressed down on her until the air felt too heavy to
breath. He studied her. Taking in every piece of her. Making her feel delicate
and vulnerable.

“This is wrong,” he said.

But Faith could tell Horace’s defenses were breaking. She
wiggled against the bulge in his pants. She’d done it to tease him, but she
ended up teasing herself.

“This is what you want.” She bit his shoulder. His arousal
jumped. She bit him again.

“Oh, hell…Faith…” Horace took her into his arms and crushed
his lips against hers. This time when she reached for his belt, he let her
unhook the buckle.

“My, my, my…” a voice from the door startled them both.
“You, my stubborn foundling, are supposed to be dead.”

A dark-haired man, who Faith would later have one hell of a time
describing, walked toward them. He held a huge gun that he kept trained on
Horace’s back. And when he spoke, his lips didn’t move. “Never mind, I’ll
simply kill you again.”

Kill him
? Faith’s heart slammed into her throat. The
dark-haired villain, with a deadly glint in his eye, aimed the gun directly at
them. She had no doubt he meant to do them harm.

Horace grew very still. His grip tightened on Faith’s hips.
“Now, let’s not be hasty. Let us talk about whatever is—” Horace started to say
but the dark-haired man shook his head. The force of the movement seemed to
slap Horace in the face. He jerked his head back in pain.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Lion. The contract has been
made. But I do feel like
I
need to say something first.” The assassin
clucked his tongue. “I never would have guessed you would treat your woman so
carelessly. She’s not a whore, but your mate. She should be honored.
Celebrated. Not tossed to the floor and taken like some common…like some common…”

Words seemed to fail the villain.

“Who are you?” Horace asked. He shifted Faith in his arms,
shielding her with as much of his body as possible from the assassin.

“They call me Ballou.” The assassin’s gaze narrowed. “And
I’m your death.”

“My death? Why? What have I ever done to you?”

“You exist.”

“Okay…okay,” Horace said. Faith could feel the tension
coiling in his body. “Your quarrel is with me. Let the girl go.”

Ballou shook his head. The mechanical movement turned Faith’s
blood cold. “She stays. Because you had sex with her last night, you and she
are now a package deal. Perhaps this is for the best.” The anger in his voice
vibrated through the room and rattled the ceiling tiles. “
You don’t deserve
her
.”

The assassin pulled the trigger. He gun fired with a
deafening blast.

Faith felt as if she’d been hit by a train. Oh God, had she
been shot? She found herself lying on her back on the floor, waiting, praying
for the air to come back to her lungs.

No, not shot, she slowly realized. Horace, moving with
preternatural speed, had somehow rolled her and himself out of the bullet’s
path.

Probably just dumb luck that they were still alive.

Ballou adjusted his aim and fired again. This time Faith
felt the bullet wiz by her head before Horace sent her skidding across the
dance floor and out of harm’s way for a second time.

She curled into a tight ball and prayed some more,
remembering all the reasons she should have stayed away from Horace’s
sexy-as-sin body. What had she been thinking crawling back into his lap?

He’d warned her and warned her, and now because she’d been
too stubborn to listen she was going to die.

She didn’t want to die.

Nor did she want to lose Horace to some madman’s bullet.

But Faith didn’t know what to do. Her earlier bravado had
fled as soon as the bullets had begun to fly. Perhaps if she tackled the gunman
she could buy enough time for Horace to escape. That way least one of them
would survive the ordeal. But she couldn’t gather enough courage to make such a
risky move. All she could seem to do was huddle on the floor and try not to
cry.

Horace pulled himself up to his feet and started moving
toward the assassin with his arms raised, his body slightly hunched and ready
for a fight, even though confronting the armed assassin head-on like that had
to be nothing short of suicide.

Run
, a voice—one that didn’t belong to her—ordered
from inside her head.
Get out of here, Faith. Go. Run
.

“No,” she whispered. She couldn’t leave Horace. He needed
her. Faith had to get up. She had to find the courage to stand with Horace and
face their attacker. Perhaps together they could—

The front doors of the club crashed open with an angry force
that literally crackled in the air.

Someone shouted.

Its force jolted Faith out of her turtle-pose. She peered
through her half-opened eyes and between the fingers covering her face. A giant
shadow of a man rushed toward her. Faith yelped and scooted out of his way.

Not too brave, but she had no experience with life-and-death
situations. She didn’t know how to act. With this new unknown on the scene,
staying out of the way seemed like her best course of action.

Action. She needed to act. Since she’d already decided she
couldn’t leave Horace, Faith crossed running away off her list.

It took some doing, but she finally pried open her eyes all
the way so she could see what was happening and hopefully avoid letting it
happen to her.

With her eyes wide open, she could see that the shadow man
that had charged into the building wasn’t a giant, but a man. She recognized the
pale-haired Frank Stone and foggily remembered meeting him the night before.

This afternoon he stood directly behind the gunman who
squeezed off several shots as Horace dove toward the bar.

Stone raised his arms like some cinema-grade sorcerer and
shouted, “Be gone!”

Ballou whirled around. The aim of his pistol shifted from
Horace to Stone. Faith fought an urge to bury her head in her hands again.
Someone was about to be killed. Perhaps all of them.