City of Dragons: Of Flesh and Blood Page 9

  Deshi did as he was told. As soon as he hit both Ulysiss points along Haley’s spine, her mouth popped open and she rolled off to the side, her eyes going from crimson to gold.

  “I’m sorry…God of Man…I couldn’t help it.”

  “It’s okay.” That from Deshi. He hovered over her, not quite willing to touch.

  “Come on, Deshi. Help or get out.” Farley was lit, one big roaring fire. But then he always burned hot during the feed or sex. He sat up and pulled off his shirt and kicked off his shitkickers while undoing his pants.

  Deshi took off his coat but stalled again, breathing hard. Farley growled at the Male. Fuck it. He’d take care of Haley on his own. Prince Perfect was too caught up in his head, probably thinking about his damn Human.

  Stripped bare, Farley turned to Haley and pulled off her blazer, then her blouse. “Haley…” She made a sound and Farley petted her cheek. “Things are always like this for us, huh? No clue what to do and just doing it…” God of Man, there had been so many things they’d gone into together blind. Him Food and her a Human-impressed Female. He’d managed to survive her first Roll, albeit barely; surely he could survive this, too.

  “We’ll get through this. Just like old times, right?” She nodded. At the same time her grip tightened and her chelae punched through his shoulders. “Haley!” Stronger and fueled by the RHage, Haley slammed Farley into floor. Deshi rushed forward, and Farley pegged him with his eyes. “No!” He struggled to breath. “I’m okay.” He put his hands on either side of Haley’s face. This wasn’t her fault. She was being commanded by some other force – Medan’s RHage. “You still with me?” Haley blinked, then nodded. “Do you trust me?”

  Her expression changed. And her eyes said, “Of course I do.”

  “Okay…”

  Riding the burn, Farley’s scent flared, and instead of fear he felt need. Haley blinked her eyes, becoming more focused as she breathed in what he poured out of his skin. But her face crumbled when her gaze slid to where her claws were impaled through Farley’s shoulder.

  “Don’t worry about that.” Farley’s hands trembled when he put them on her thighs. “Listen to me. Give me your mouth…” He had to get more of his flavor in her and bring her down. He could control almost anyone if he could flood them with his taste. Or at least control their need. A natural-born talent honed to perfection by surviving the hatching grounds.

  And his Brother Darco.

  Haley shook her head, and Farley tightened his grip. “Haley…Haley, please…trust me. Give me your mouth.” She leaned forward, and he could taste her scent on the air. Only it wasn’t hers any more. It was Medan’s, sharp and cold like wild honey. Haley’s scent was rich and warm like cream. “Closer.”

  Her mouth hit his, and Farley thrust his tongue over her palate, searching for her taste and filling her with his. There, under Medan, he found her; and her flavor, her scent, jacked him up even higher.

  More. He needed more of that.

  Haley made a desperate sound, and her tongue moved against his, giving back. The ache of her chelae retreated, and her arms slid around his neck. Farley tried to roll her over, but the damn couch was in the way. Deshi appeared overhead and shoved it to the side. Something fell and broke. Probably the ugly-ass lamp she kept on the side table.

  Farley pushed Haley’s bra up and over her head and got it caught in her hair. Deshi took care of it too, because stopping to deal wasn’t an option.

  With his mouth against hers, feeding her his scent and drinking down hers, Farley fought to get the belt off her skirt and the zipper down. The Prince took over, pulling it off. Farley rolled her under him.

  “More…” Haley arched herself against him, and he could feel the heat between her legs.

  Fuck, yeah. Farley could definitely deal with this. He slid lower. When Haley reached for him, Deshi caught her hands. Farley watched as she turned her face up at him, her mouth open making small, pleading sounds.

  Taste her. But The Jersey City Prince didn’t.

  On the back of a growl, Farley said, “Emily isn’t here.” Baby blues flashed in his direction. “Help me take care of her, Deshi, please. You owe her. More than you’ve ever owed that Human of yours.” The frown on Deshi’s face turned into a full-fledged snarl. “Go ahead, get pissed. Hell, get out, for all I care. But hurry and make up your mind.” Deshi blinked and looked down at Haley. Her hands opened and closed as she tried to pet him.

  Farley ran his tongue across her stomach, making her jump, and caught the edge of her navel in his teeth. He glanced up at the Jersey City Prince. The Male was closer now but still caught up in his head.

  Growling, Farley slid a hand on the inside of Haley’s thigh and pushed her legs out. Her pale blue panties were soaked with scent. Just like an addict, he couldn’t turn down the chance for a score. Impatient, he hooked a chelae in the lacy edge of her panties, shredding them in a single pull. Farley glanced up, because he loved watching Haley, only this time he got to see Deshi’s mouth on hers drinking her down.

  Even better.

  A deep thrum kicked up in Haley’s chest, and her cries grew sharp as Farley slipped his tongue between the folds of her sex. He worked her, alternating between licking and sucking, savoring her taste. When he slid a finger inside her, the act of penetration brought her to climax. Deshi held Haley down and the first lines of her metaphysical energy spun out, hitting Farley head-on like a Mack truck.

  Caught in the wave of metaphysical power, Farley pulled himself up and sat back on his knees. His teeth punched down, and his biology shot into overdrive. Snarling, he dragged his chelae across his stomach and chest, scoring himself until blood coated his thighs, his cock, until the pain ate him up like pleasure. Deshi was right. It was too much for him, and he knew he would kill himself like this, caught on the brink of release, riding in the ebb of RHage. And he didn’t care. God of Man, he wanted this, wanted Haley to rip him apart, eat him alive, crack open his ribs, and consume his heart. And he would find the act of violence as erotic and fulfilling as being fucked.

  Screaming her name and begging her to kill him, Farley drowned in the RHage, practically coming at the thought of his own death.

  Haley’s scent, mixed with Deshi’s, was shoved into his mouth. The Jersey City Prince’s hand was a like a vice on Farley’s neck, cutting off most of his air as he pushed his tongue across Farley’s palate, delivering what Haley had given him. The taste brought a strange kind of calm to Farley’s frenzied mind.

  His eyes fluttered and he put a hand on the Prince’s wrist, squeezing to let him know he was back.

  Deshi pulled his mouth away and made Farley look at him. “Are you all right?”

  Farley shook his head, then nodded. “What the fuck happened?” His whole body trembled as if he’d been fucking for hours.

  “Medan…”

  Christ, he would have eviscerated himself. “Thanks for stopping me.”

  The Prince gave a nod, then pitched forward as Haley came to her knees between them. She’d pushed Deshi’s boxers down and grabbed his cock with her hands.

  “Feed.” She looked back at Farley. “Please, I need to get this out of me.” Deshi made a strangled sound and rolled his eyes up at Farley.

  “I’m okay.” The Prince let go of his throat. “Haley?” With one hand around her waist and the other on her chin, Farley arched her body back and angled himself between her legs. “You’ve got to send most of it to Deshi. I can’t…” Shit, it chapped his ass to admit it. “I’m not strong enough. Concentrate on Rolling him.”

  “I’ll try.” She exhaled across his lips. This time her taste was dominant, and Medan’s came second. “Please, more, I need more.”

  Farley punched his teeth into her shoulder as he pushed himself inside. Farley moved, pacing himself in time with how fast he swallowed.

  To Deshi, Haley said, “You, too.”

  Farley had to close his eyes. If he watched the Prince feed, he was going to lose himself because there w
ere few things more beautiful.

  Deshi’s long arms encircled them both, and his hands stroked Farley’s back up and down. He always did that when he fed. It was something Farley had missed since he’d stayed away. It was relaxing, gentle…

  But the tranquility didn’t last very long.

  “Deshi…” Haley’s voice was muffled against his neck. “This is going to be bad, isn’t it?”

  Farley felt Deshi’s grip tighten across his back. With as much time they’d spent together, certain signals took the place of words. The change in Deshi’s touch said bring her now. And Farley knew why, because the thought of hurting either of them would make Haley stop. She started to say something else but lost her words when Farley thrust hard and her reluctance turned into pleas.

  Haley’s heat, seeing the Jersey City Prince feed, the feel of her preternatural self welling up inside his body--God of Man, Farley was going to combust.

  Trapped in the edge of the Roll, Farley was powerless. It was a sensation he feared and reveled in. Haley could kill him like this. Just last September he’d watched Medan make a man fuck himself to death.

  Body shaking, every muscle tight and on the edge of release, Farley barked out one last cry as the Roll came thundering over him, taking him out.

  *** *** ***

  Haley fell against the Jersey City Prince as Farley collapsed, writhing on the floor, lost in the aftermath of the Roll. He could never take very much of her. He wasn’t strong enough, and it always took him down first. Wetness coated Haley’s fingers, and Deshi’s body made small hesitant jerks. He was close, so close.

  Deshi released his bite, and his arms encircled her. “Don’t wait.” His voice was gravel deep and close to her ear. It wasn’t that Haley didn’t want to give it to him now, but Deshi’s body was already trembling. Without release the Roll would hurt him; and fueled by the RHage, she was scared it would do more than that.

  Heat roared over the Prince’s skin, and silver scales patterned out along his chest and arms. “Haley…God…Haley.”

  He pulled her flush against his body, making it impossible for her to move her hands. Haley growled and squeezed.

  “Let me do this.”

  Deshi shook his head against her cheek. “Give me the RHage.”

  “I don’t want to leave you unfinished.” She never ignored him. Never. And he needed this.

  “You’ve done enough…you’ve given me so much…”

  But it wasn’t enough as far as she was concerned. Haley said, “Look at me.” With a physical reluctance that made his muscles jump, he did as she commanded. Beautiful Deshi stared at her with golden eyes.

  Haley smiled and pushed her face against his cheek. Her tongue stroked his cheek, jaw, then his ear. She nicked him, and his breathing hitched. “Let me…”

  “I can’t.” He trembled under the weight of the RHage.

  Haley realized then he was making her hurt him. Making her punish him. “Why are you doing this?”

  His breath shuddered and he pulled her tighter. “I deserve it.”

  Haley didn’t know if he meant for what he did in September or because of what was happening between him and Emily now. It didn’t matter because he was wrong. Deshi didn’t deserve to suffer. Not when he had already suffered so much for so long.

  Furious, burning up with the RHage and the need, Haley yanked her hands out from between them. She shoved Deshi, and he went tumbling back flat on the floor. His arms came up. Seeing the Prince of Jersey City, cowering, afraid, brought a wall-shaking growl from Haley’s throat. The only reason he remained aroused was because she held him in the current of metaphysics.

  “Look at me, Deshi.” She rolled her lip. He brought his eyes up. They were blue, and there was no desire there, just fear and shame.

  Sweat rolled down Haley’s back. She was burning too hot, holding the Roll on its edge, the RHage nitrous oxide in her low octane tank. Her body shuddered, and Deshi clambered to his knees.

  “What are you doing?”

  “If you don’t want me, then I’ll just keep it.”

  “No.” He reached for her. “Haley…don’t…please…You have to let it go. Finish it. Please, you’re burning up.”

  God of Man, she was. Her skin was on fire, her insides liquid. Her breath came out in a ragged hiss as the pain rose, inching up her spine. If Deshi didn’t take it, there was no place for it to go. It was going to consume her.

  “Haley…” Deshi cupped her face and pushed back her hair. His eyes were too wide. “Stop it, please. God of Man…Haley...You’ll kill yourself. Do you understand? Let it go, or you’ll die.”

  “At least I won’t hurt you.”

  Deshi’s grip tightened, and she watched him search her face. Haley was sure he’d found what he was looking for because all the shame and fear he’d been shedding flickered out. Deshi pulled her face upward and smashed their mouths together.

  A desperate sound eased out of Haley’s mouth. She let Deshi pull her down and under him, giving him control. It did something to the Prince. Brought out a bit of dominance he was usually too shy to show. Purring, Deshi arched over her, nipping her shoulders, then her neck, teasing her with the prospect of feeding. His hands ran along her ribs, hips, and thighs, kneading the skin, every touch drawing more of her preternatural self into him.

  Deshi moved between her legs, pushed in, and at the same moment Haley Rolled him. Once inside, his biology took over and he thrust with a kind of desperation which pleaded for forgiveness. Deshi had missed this…them.

  It was obvious what he had been designed for and why. Unlike Farley, Deshi could ride the Roll until she spun it out. The RHage rolled outward, burning up the metaphysical lines with a supercell storm of power.

  “Now…Haley…please…”

  Haley let go, hoping the pleasure would numb part of the pain.

  Chapter 11

  By seven-thirty Orin was walking up the steps to the Ancient Histories Building. He pulled out his keys to open the door, but it was already unlocked.

  That’s odd.

  He checked his watch. Usually, maintenance was out of the place by six every morning. Maybe they were running late? He stepped inside. Everything was quiet and completely dark. The air in the hall was a mix of scents, mostly Lysol and Windex. He walked down the corridor in front of the main offices. His loafers made small squeaks against the polished floor.

  Ancient Histories didn’t have as much space as a lot of the other academic buildings. The old brick construct had started life as an office building to catch the overflow from financial aid, and then continuing education. Most of the front rooms were still designated for that purpose, but the large back area which began life as storage space had been transformed into a sunken classroom. At full capacity Orin could lecture up to a hundred and fifty students. Most semesters he was overbooked.

  In the late seventies UGA Dean Kevin Banks approached Orin with an innovative idea to bring new life to the dry, stale, and dying interest in Ancient Histories.

  “Just think what it would be like to hear history first hand.”

  At a little over eight-hundred years old and a Domestic, Orin was one of the few Kin on the planet who could deliver.

  He paused part way up the hall, the door to his classroom within sight. There was no reason for him to stop. He just had an odd feeling of apprehension. Orin rubbed his chest, and the sound of his hand against the fabric seemed incredibly loud.

  Forward, he told himself, but his loafers remained rooted to the spot. He adjusted his glasses, then his tie, moved his brief case to his other hand.

  What the hell was wrong with him? Orin forced himself to take a step even though the pain in his chest took a sharp jab and the hesitation turned into dread. A few feet away, and he could smell it. Thick, coppery, sweet, burnt coffee and chocolate. Lesser-bred. And even though Orin’s brain screamed that he knew the scent, he refused to acknowledge it.

  A figment of the imagination was the only possible explanatio
n.

  Orin pulled open the door, stepped inside, and promptly dropped his briefcase. What he saw couldn’t be real. It had to be some type of hallucination, some horrible nightmare. And even though he wanted to turn and run, he went forward, his legs becoming weaker with every step until he stumbled and fell in the pool of blood.

  Mary Gilsp lay broken in front of the podium he lectured at every day. She was nude, her throat eaten out and all her vitals consumed. Desecrated. With trembling hands Orin brushed the hair away from her mouth, leaving a trail of red on her cheek. Her beautiful eyes stared at nothing.

  Orin picked up Mary’s hand and pressed his face into her palm.

  He inhaled, smelling death, fear, and violence. She had suffered terrible things, and those last moments were written in her flavor. On the trail of all those horrors a familiar Female scent rode on eddies stirred in the air.

  Orin’s head snapped up, and a deep growl eased out of his throat.

  “Hello, Orin.” Rehbek’ah, Daughter to the Queen of Athens, unfolded herself from one of the desks and stood in the third row staring at him. She could have passed for a student in her faded jeans and cashmere sweater, except for that ethereal perfection associated with all Kin.

  Her chosen form was cut tall, lean, with thick black hair long enough to hang over her shoulders in waves. She looked just as Orin remembered. Even wore the same double strand of Tiffany diamonds.

  It wasn’t like she was easy to forget. No, following Orin around, threatening his students and firebombing his car had pretty well cemented every detail firmly into his gray matter.

  But one thing had changed. Rehbek’ah smelled strongly of honey.

  She smiled. “My Orin and his beautiful green eyes.”

  I am not yours. “What do you want?”

  “There is no one to keep us apart anymore.” The smile on Rehbek’ah’s perfect face was serial killer sweet.

  “Does Re’ka know you’re out?” Because the last Orin had heard, the Athens Queen had buttoned her daughter’s ass down in the Dens on the threat of evisceration if she so much as stuck her nose out for fresh air. After all the damage and threats, her behavior had come dangerously close to breaking Medan’s rules of Seclusion.