Power (Soul Savers) (8 page)

“But Char and the rest got away safely, right?”

“Yes, no thanks to you. Or me, since I had to go searching
for you.”

Before he changed his mind and decided to talk about it now,
I lifted his shirt to his shoulders and ran my mouth across his chest. The
growl turned into a hum of pleasure as I made him forget his anger with me. In
a flash, we were in our room, and my jacket and Tristan’s shirt were tossed to
the floor.

“You’re so damn sexy in that,” he said, his heated gaze
traveling down to my breasts that nearly spilled over the top of my bustier as
they throbbed with need.

In one swift move, he grabbed my wrists, lifted my arms above
my head and shoved me against the wall as he planted his mouth on mine. His
tongue pushed its way in and moved urgently, hungrily, leaving me breathless
and weak-kneed. He brought my hands together over my head and clasped my wrists
in one of his hands as the other trailed shocks down my arm. I squirmed under
his touch, and he pressed harder against me, grinding his pelvis into mine. My
thighs quivered, ready to open up and let him in.

“Do me a favor and stay right there,” he murmured against my
lips. I nodded.

He stepped backward, and my arms began to slide down the
wall, but his hand returned in an instant, holding them up.

“Right there,” he said.

“Um … okay.”

What was he doing? If he wanted to play our favorite game,
he could have held me in place with his power. I wasn’t about to ask, though. I
could either cooperate or ruin the fun. No way would I ruin the fun.

It hadn’t just been two weeks, but over eight months since
we’d truly been able to be together the way we preferred. Being in the woods on
the Amadis Island, with so many creatures who could easily encroach into my
telepathic range, wasn’t nearly the same as being home where I could truly let
go of
all
my inhibitions. Any nearby
humans wouldn’t understand that I blasted orgasmic feelings into their heads
and, so far anyway, Dorian had no clue, as if his child’s mind blocked it out.

So I stood there with my arms crossed high over my head,
trying not to squirm too much from anticipation as Tristan knelt before me.

After removing and discarding my boots, his hands went to my
hips and his lips to my stomach. As he kissed the exposed skin between the
bottom of the corset and the top of my pants, his fingers slipped under the
tight leather and slowly slid to the button. Then his hands pushed down, taking
my pants with them, and his mouth followed close behind, kissing and sucking my
inner thigh, the inside of my knee, my calf, all the way to my ankles. I pulled
one foot free from the tight leather and then the other, and he pushed my pants
to the side. Then he placed insanely high, hot pink stilettos in front of me. I
raised an eyebrow.

“Humor me,” he said, his voice husky, as he slipped the
shoes onto my feet, raising me several inches higher.

He rose to his full height, his eyes never leaving my body,
now clad in only a black leather custier and five-inch heels. He cocked his
head and a slow smile spread across his stunning face. Then he reached out and
undid the top buttons of the corset, freeing my aching breasts.

“Hmm … that’s what I’m talking about,” he murmured.

“You like?” I asked with a small smile, enjoying the power I
had over him.

“Very much.” His smoldering eyes lit a fire in my belly.
Well, the fire had already been lit, but now it blossomed into a heat that was
both pleasurable and agonizing at the same time. My muscles clenched as if he
were already inside me.

“Your turn.” I glanced at the bulge in his pants.

“Don’t move,” he said with a grin, then he proceeded to
unbutton his pants and slide them down torturously slow, teasing me the whole
time.

But at some point, he must not have been able to stand the
torment himself because he was suddenly naked and pressed against me. One hand
held my wrists again and the other grasped my jaw as he kissed me deeply with a
desperation I felt all the way to my toes. His hand slid from my face, down my
neck and glided slowly to my breast. His fingertips trailed circles of current
around my nipple as they spiraled their way in. By the time they reached the
tip, his mouth was pulling my other breast in. His teeth grazed one nipple as
his fingers pinched the other, stretching them both long and tight. I moaned
and arched my back, pushing my breasts against him, begging for more.

His mouth moved to my other nipple and licked, sucked,
rolled, and bit as his free hand moved down my side, to the back, over my bare
cheek. He pulled my hips into him as he pressed his erection against my belly.
The heels made me nearly the right height to match us up.

“Ah, Lexi,” he groaned against my breast, “I need you.”

“Take … me,” I panted.

In response, he spun me around so I faced the wall. His
hands grasped my hips and pulled them back, forcing me to lean forward. He
massaged my cheeks and my thighs then pushed my legs outward.

“Oh, God,” he moaned, and he slid inside me from behind. I
cried out as he pushed deeper in, slowly until he filled me completely. “You
feel … so …
good
.”

He took my wrists in one hand again and held them to the
wall as his other caressed my breasts, then splayed across my stomach, holding
me still as he thrust in and out. His fingers inched downward until they
touched the nub of raw nerves, and a jolt of ecstasy shot through me. I
succumbed to the first wave of an orgasm. He continued to move back and forth,
in and out, each stroke harder, deeper, faster, and wave after wave wracked
through me until I could barely stand on my shaky legs.

He pulled out and freed my arms, and I turned around. I
pressed my hands to the sides of his face and pulled him closer for a kiss, all
wet and sweet and tangy. His hands glided over my hips and to my butt, and he
lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he entered again. But after
three magnificent thrusts that sent me to the verge of another orgasm, I
realized this could be a mistake.

“We’ll knock the wall down,” I gasped.

With me in his arms and my legs still around him, Tristan
moved backwards to the bed. When he hit the mattress, he fell back, putting me
on top. His chest was hard but smooth as I pressed my hands on it and rocked my
hips, feeling him pulse inside me. I rode him hard, making him groan and pant,
until he bucked against me and then suddenly sat with me in his lap.

He twisted us around and laid me on my back, then pounded
into me with hard, beautiful thrusts. I covered my mouth to muffle the scream of
pleasure from the deep penetration. My back arched on its own, and his mouth
latched onto my breast, his tongue flicking over my nipple and then caressing
it as he sucked. I closed my eyes, losing myself in the bliss, and met his
rhythm with my hips. But right when I was about to explode again, he growled.

We both froze. My eyelids flew open. His face twisted in a
mix of heated passion and … agony? Then I saw what I hadn’t seen in so
long—a flicker of flames in his eyes.
What
the hell?
Before I could even finish that thought, the spark was gone.

He closed his eyes and exhaled the breath he’d been holding.
He still throbbed inside me. I flipped us over, wrapped my hands over his
forearms and pushed them against the bed, holding him in place as I rode him again,
looking into his eyes the whole time, mind-sharing everything I felt right now
with him. His eyes filled with love. And intense desire. And then rolled back.

“Oh,
fuck
, Lex,”
he groaned as he came inside me.

We silently lay in each other’s arms afterwards, not
mentioning what might have happened. I told myself
nothing
had happened. It was the heat of the moment.
He loves me
. I felt his love flowing
from his warm, strong embrace now. At least, I thought I did. Once he drifted
off to sleep, it really came pouring out of him. And that bothered me. Why
would he be inhibited while we made love? Afterwards, when it was only him and
me, basking in the beautiful moment we’d just shared?

Something was changing between us. Hadn’t we already been
through enough?

***

Tristan was right about Heather. She knocked on our door
bright and early the next morning, which wasn’t a bad thing because it
distracted Dorian from the fact we’d broken our bed. Again. We’d also left an
indentation in the drywall from my head and torso, and Owen wasn’t here to fix
it all for us, forcing me to make an embarrassing request of Blossom.

“So where did these come from?” I asked Tristan as I picked
up the stilettos to put them away before going out to greet Heather. I
certainly never owned shoes with these kinds of heels. “Did you pick up a new
hobby of women’s shoe shopping while I was gone?”

He shrugged casually, but his face remained smooth. “I guess
you could say I’ve developed a new fetish.”

I stared at him for a long moment, not knowing what to think
or say, but mostly fighting hoots of laughter at the thought of big, powerful
Tristan—
Mr. Beautiful
—browsing
the women’s shoe section. But if this was really his new thing, I didn’t want
to laugh in his face. He could develop worse fetishes.

“Um … well, okay …” I stammered.

Then he was the one to burst into laughter. “Joke,
ma lykita
.” He pulled me into his arms
and whispered against my ear, “Just like any part of you, I’d rather see your
feet naked.”

I sagged against him with a bit of relief. I couldn’t help
the thought of there being something wrong with the “ultimate warrior” having a
thing for women’s shoes.

“So where did they come from?” I asked, the shoes still
dangling from my fingers.

“Blossom.”

The sense of relief disappeared faster than a warlock could
flash.
What the heck were Blossom’s sexy
shoes doing in my bedroom?!
I stiffened in Tristan’s arms.

“She said she accidentally bought the wrong size, and she
thought you might like them,” he explained.

“Seriously?” I asked with a forced chuckle, trying to cover
up my idiotic reaction. What was up with all the unwarranted jealousy? Sure,
Tristan had been acting strange lately, but not in a way that made me suspect
his faithfulness to me. But something had apparently crawled under my skin and gnawed
on my nerves. Perhaps the depleted Amadis power made me so cynical. “She
thought
I’d
like
these
? To wear around town or something?”

Blossom knew me better than that—flip-flops or combat
boots were the only things that went on these feet. Then again, this was
Blossom. She’d probably bought them for the same purpose we’d used them for: in
the bedroom.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you would, but, well, a guy can’t help
but wonder how his girl would look in those.” He finished with a wink, and my
brain glazed over.

He took the shoes from my hand and tossed them into the
closet before giving me a kiss that made me forget everything. Then he took my
hand and pulled me out to the kitchen.

Blossom must have given Heather a serious threat, because
the girl still didn’t dive immediately into the subject of her sister. Rather,
she showed up at our house every day for a few hours and watched Dorian for us
while Tristan and I took care of Amadis business, which mostly consisted of
finding and purchasing (on behalf of the Amadis) a mansion to serve as the new
Captiva safe house. But every day before she left, she’d mention something
about her sister, or vampires, or the Daemoni, or the Amadis. This went on for
several weeks, and although I could have called her out—I already knew
what she wanted from the letter she sent me—I was buying time.

I needed to follow orders and rebuild my Amadis power before
making any promises that I could help her. And even fully rejuvenated, I didn’t
know if I could keep such promises. The best way to help Heather and her
sister, if she was indeed a Daemoni vampire, was to convert her. But I knew too
little about the process of conversions, and Charlotte hadn’t started my
training yet. I’d hoped the warlock would be here by the time Heather stopped
circumventing the issue, but I ran out of time. She finally popped the
question—specifically asked for my help—one day as we sat on the
beach, watching Dorian ride his skim-board over the low waves of the Gulf of
Mexico.

“Hold on,” I said. Up until now, I’d simply listened to
Heather’s remarks and comments with little acknowledgement, but I could avoid
the subject no longer. I had questions of my own before I answered hers.
“Before we really get into this, how do you know all these things about us?
You’re not supposed to.”

She was a Norman. Someone had to have disclosed our secrets.
She gnawed on her bottom lip and watched her fingers as they weaved in and
around several yarn anklets decorating her foot. She always wore a bikini under
her tank tops and shorts, and with her sun-streaked hair, natural beauty
without a hint of makeup, the friendship bracelets adorning her arms, and all
of those anklets, she looked like the typical beach-town local teen.

“It’s your fault,” she finally said, looking up at me.
“Yours and Tristan’s. Mom came home every night for weeks swearing that she
knew her new clients from somewhere but couldn’t figure out how. And then the
day after the sale finished, she completely forgot she’d told me that and only
said you two bought a house from her. But I saw you once when you stopped by
her office to drop something off, and I recognized you immediately. Because of
you, my dad stopped beating the shit out of my mom. You don’t forget the faces
of the people who finally scare away the real monster in your life. Well, not
unless someone wipes your memories.”

I cringed—she’d guessed what Owen had done to her
mother.