Possessed by Desire (7 page)

The feather trailed down her bare stomach, over her shorts, then brushed the soft skin of her inner thigh.

Her sex quivered, and she arched her back. She didn’t even care anymore that he’d tied her down. She just wanted more of that heavenly mouth. Wanted to finally feel his entire body against hers. Wanted him to taste her. Everywhere.

He chuckled again, and heat flooded her veins in response, as if her entire body were on fire. “Answer me,
noor
.”

“No.” She twisted her head against the mattress, closed her fingers around the ropes leading to the bedposts. “No, I haven’t—”

The feather trailed down her inner thigh, then came up again, this time closer to her sex. She groaned, tightened her stomach, tried to lift her hips higher—to get away? To get closer? She wasn’t sure—but the ropes kept her in place. His tongue continued to tease a path all around her nipple but never touched it. She couldn’t help it. She groaned. Why wasn’t he suckling her? Why wasn’t he taking her shorts off? Why wasn’t he giving her the release he knew she craved?

He kissed her breastbone, dragged his lips down to her belly button and circled the indentation with the tip of his tongue until her clit throbbed. She groaned again. Arched higher. Gripped the ropes tighter. “Ashur, please—”

“It’s a heightened state of sexual arousal where release is repeatedly denied,” he said. “It can go on for hours, even days.” He continued the soft touch at her inner thigh, the brush of his lips at her lower abdomen, right near the waistband of her shorts. “Trust me,
noor
, I’ve been trained in all forms of desire. Before this night is through, you’re going to wish you had released me.”

A chill spread through her, and though her body still hummed with heat and need, slowly, the sexual haze cleared. Until thought reformed, and reality settled in hard.

This wasn’t about seduction. This was about torturing her until she finally let him go. About corrupting her soul, just as his master wanted.

I can’t let him go. I still need him
…

A buzzing echoed close. Followed by his sultry voice. “Let’s see how hot we can make you with this.”

The scent of rubber rose up to her nose. Then something pressed against her shorts, right over her mound.

Wicked vibrations rocked her entire body. She cried out. Lifted her hips. Her frantic thoughts spiraled away, until she couldn’t grasp them anymore. Until all she could focus on was the tingling pulses consuming her sex.

He was using the dildo on her. She thrashed against the bed. Lifted her hips, dropped them, tried to rub against the toy. Yes, yes, yes… She wanted to feel it against her bare sex. Wanted him to press it inside her. Wanted the orgasm that was barreling closer with every second.

A sharp ring echoed through the room. Ashur lifted his head from the breast he’d been torturing and pulled the dildo away from her mound. She groaned in frustration as seconds passed in agony.

Finally, he whispered, “Just your phone. Where were we?”

The dildo pressed against her mound once more. Then every muscle in her body went rigid as his teeth pulled the snap free at her waist.

Oh
… It was descending again. The haze that made thinking nearly impossible. The dark craving for his sinful touch. The desire to let go, to stop fighting, to give him anything he wanted.

Maybe you’ll enjoy it
…

Oh, but she was enjoying. Too much. She was on the brink of doing whatever he commanded, giving him anything, promising everything if he’d just slide his hands into her waistband, drag the shorts down her hips, and take her.

A click resounded through the room, followed by, “Claire?”

Her answering machine. Someone was leaving a message. Someone Claire vaguely recognized but couldn’t place because every cell in her body was focused on Ashur’s wicked tongue now running beneath the waistband of her shorts and that damn dildo pulsing against her clit, making her sweat.

“Oh,” she whispered, lifting her hips again to alleviate the ache consuming every inch of her skin.

“Claire?” the voice went on. “It’s Tariq. I heard from Nasir. The bottle’s been found and opened. Zoraida is free. Mira and I need to talk to you. If Ashur’s still alive, Zoraida will most likely be sending him here. We need to formulate a plan. Call us back as soon as you can.”

The vibrations suddenly stopped, and the mattress bounced; then air rushed over Claire’s overheated skin, making her nipples even harder. The blindfold was yanked from her eyes before she realized what was happening.

Confused, she blinked several times against the flickering light. Looked up and around. But it was Ashur’s face hovering above her that brought everything into focus.

“What the hell was that?”

She was having trouble processing. She just wanted him to go on touching her. Why was he stopping when she was so close? “My…my answering machine.”

“Not the stupid box,” he snapped. He leaned close until his face was centimeters from hers. His enraged face. “What is my brother doing calling you by name?”

* * *

Her eyes grew wary. “Your…your brother?”

Grinding his teeth, Ashur pushed from the bed and moved away from her. The desire he’d been fighting back while he’d teased her was gone, replaced with a fury that filled the empty place beneath his breastbone and made his blood boil. He didn’t trust himself to touch her at the moment. His brother, who’d abandoned him to torture and death and betrayed their race for a human fucking woman, had just left a message on Claire’s answering machine.

“How do you know Tariq?” he growled. “What in all of Jahannam is going on?”

Her face paled. “I…I…oh, shit. He’s your brother? I…” Her eyes slid closed. “I didn’t know.”

Yeah, right
. “Where is he?”

Her eyes popped open. He couldn’t read her expression, but he saw the worry lurking deep inside.

For herself? Or for Tariq? His fury rose higher. He moved back to the bed, leaned over her, willed himself not to snap like a Ghul. “Tell me!”

Her breasts rose and fell with her shallow breaths, but her eyes were wide and—this time—determined. “Release me first.”

He stared at her while his blood ran like a river of lava through his veins. She didn’t have any powers left—he’d figured that out in the last few minutes—so, bound or not, he was still in control. But at the moment, he didn’t give a flying rat’s ass about Zoraida’s punishment should he fail her so-called test. The revenge he’d been plotting for the last six months was at his fingertips.

He reached for the ropes at her ankles, untied the knots, then moved to her right arm. As soon as her wrist was free, she jerked it toward her body, rubbing the tender flesh against her stomach. He moved around the bed and freed the other side. Ropes dropped to the floor. She sat up and massaged the red marks at both ankles and wrists, then grasped a pillow and tossed it over her body to hide her naked breasts.

He wouldn’t feel guilty. She was
noor
. The wariness he’d felt before about her came steamrolling back. Whatever she was truly after—and he had no doubt now that she was plotting something other than simple pleasure—had to do with his brother. And that meant she was not his ally, not his friend, and definitely not someone he should feel anything for, especially desire or compassion.

He perched his hands on his hips and stared down at her. Her hair was a wild mess around her head from thrashing, her skin luminescent in the candlelight. And the soft, sweet scent of gardenias he’d noticed earlier only pissed him off more because it still smelled exotically enticing. “Where is he?”

“He’s…” She hesitated, but before he could bark at her again, added, “in the Pacific Northwest. With my friend Mira.”

“The human woman,” he snarled.

Her head snapped his way. “She saved him. She—”

“I don’t care what
she
did.” He tugged open the closet door and grabbed a T-shirt from a hanger. “You’re taking me to him.”

“What?” Her brow dropped low. “I can’t do that. We’re on an island. In the middle of the Pacific. It’ll take days to get there. Flights only leave these islands once per day, and we need to take a boat to the airport first. It—”

“Put that on.”

She grasped the shirt he threw at her. “Ashur, be reasonable. Tariq—”

He moved so fast, her head snapped back, and her words cut off mid-sentence. Leaning on the bed, inches from her face, he growled, “Do not
ever
speak to me about my brother,
noor
. Do you understand?”

Her mouth closed, and she swallowed once, the look in her eyes not just surprise but fear. True fear. Slowly, she nodded.

An image flashed in his mind. Of him in the dungeons during the days before Zoraida had disappeared, chained and half naked, recoiling from her fury-induced rage. Scared, beaten down, controlled. Not that different from the way Claire looked right now.

His pulse picked up speed. And something in his chest cinched down tight. A mixture of power and revulsion and guilt that swirled inside his gut to leave him light-headed and…unsteady.

He wasn’t sure what was happening to him, but he wasn’t about to lose this opportunity. He didn’t know if or when it would ever happen again.

Forcing the bite from his words, he leaned back and said, “I don’t need boats or planes to travel in the human realm. But I do need you.”

Her sapphire eyes shifted from scared to wary, and he straightened his spine, willing himself not to back down. He didn’t care if she was pissed. This wasn’t about her anymore, and he wasn’t going to be distracted by any angel, fallen or not. “I no longer care if you want me,
noor
. You’re stuck with me now. We’re going to see my brother. And you will be the one to light the way.”

CHAPTER SIX

Claire’s nerves were a mess by the time she tugged sandals from her closet and slipped her feet inside. Aside from everything that had just happened in this bedroom, now he wanted her to take him to Tariq and Mira? Something in her gut said this was not a good idea.

I want you in ways I’ve not wanted another
.

The memory of his lips forming those words as he’d kissed her earlier in the day came out of nowhere and nudged aside the nerves. Heat flooded her veins all over again, sent tingles to her belly and lower. Standing in front of him, she focused on his black-as-night eyes and tried to find the djinni who’d pleasured her so completely before…before he’d discovered she was celestial. Before he’d realized she wasn’t bound to the opal. Before he’d decided to sexually torture her to get her to do what he wanted.

Except…that hadn’t felt like torture. The same wicked craving she’d experienced before came screaming back. That had felt…good. Too good. Was she sick in the head because she’d liked being strapped down? What did it say about her that she’d enjoyed giving up control? That she probably would have let him do anything he’d wanted if he’d kept going?

He held out his hand, but his expression was neutral, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “Simply think of their location, and I’ll do the rest.”

Would he have stopped? Would he have given her release, or would he have prolonged the erotic denial, like he’d claimed? She wanted to believe the first, but the darkness in his eyes warned her she didn’t know him at all. Even if he was Marid, he’d been imprisoned so long by the sorceress, he could very well be as base as the Ghuls Zoraida often employed.

Unease flitted through her, and she swallowed hard. Knowing she didn’t have another option, she slid her hand against his. His fingers tightened around hers, and before she even saw him move, he jerked her around so her back was plastered to his front, and his arms were closed tight across her body.

Heat instantly enveloped her, followed by the familiar scent of his skin—spicy, citrusy, clean. And as if he had some magical control over her body, desire reignited in her core. His warm breath washed over the nape of her neck, sending pinpricks of pleasure all along her skin when he leaned close and said, “Stay close to me. Tariq is unpredictable.”

Her mind stumbled. In the six months that Mira had been with Tariq, Claire hadn’t heard a word from her friend about Tariq being “unpredictable”. But before she could ask what Ashur meant, black smoke swirled around them, and then her feet lifted from the ground. The smoke churned faster. Her hair whipped around her face, stung her eyes. Ashur’s arms tightened, and against her ear, he whispered, “Hold on to me.”

She grasped the forearm locked tight against her, was happy for the solid presence of his body at her back. As a celestial being, she’d transported from location to location all over the earth, but never in a human body.

A gasp tore from her mouth when her feet hit something solid. Ashur’s arms tightened more, and she knew if he hadn’t been holding her, she’d have fallen forward. As the smoke cleared, she took in her surroundings and gasped again when she realized they were standing on Tariq and Mira’s deck.

Pine trees rose around them, the scent of moss and damp earth strong. And ahead, moonlight shimmered off the waters of Puget Sound, sparkling like a million diamonds under the night sky.

His arms released her, and immediately her body craved his heat. She whipped around and found him already scanning the glass door, peering inside, looking for his brother. But it was the menace in his eyes that sent a jolt of fear straight to her heart.

She grasped his arm. “Ashur, no. Listen. You don’t understand. Let me explain things to you before you go inside.”

He looked down at her, but the gentle almost-lover she’d touched before was gone. The same fury she’d seen when he’d heard Tariq’s voice was alive on his face. “Understand what? That he left me to rot?” He jerked his arm from her grip. “This does not concern you,
noor
. Stay out here until I’m through.”

Through? She didn’t like the sound of that. Fear turned to panic. “Ashur, wait—”

He yanked the sliding door open and stepped into the house. Claire couldn’t see anything past his broad shoulders, but she heard voices. Tariq’s surprise. Mira’s shock. Followed by Ashur’s fury.