Obsidian Flame (11 page)

At that, her body jerked. “Stannett and death vampires?”

“Why not? The man’s desperate. We believe he was after the Seers who live here.”

“You know, that makes complete sense. He probably went into the future streams hunting for exactly that, a secret stash of Seers or something.”

“So you can hunt by subject?”

“Sure. I mean, mostly you hold the image of a person in your mind until you find their corresponding ribbon of light, but you can also do a subject. At least I could and no doubt Stannett can, although I think I might have been better at it, which is why he used me when I was locked up in the Convent.” She pursed her lips. “But there’s something more. Stannett would have had the power to get through this strange mist. Most Seers wouldn’t be able to even see it.”

Thorne held his arm out. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

Marguerite’s gaze slid over streaks of red over his arm and black wrist guards. There was at least one black feather stuck to him, but it didn’t bother her. She’d been with him plenty of times after he’d battled all night.

But he turned to her and said, “The thing is, Marguerite, it doesn’t matter what Stannett does, or Greaves. You’ve got to face the fact that you’ve got emerging powers. You’ve got to start dealing with them. Otherwise it’s just going to get worse and I think you know that. You’re the righteous red variety of obsidian flame, and you can’t run from that.”

“I’m not running.” She twirled a lock of her hair around and around her finger. She could feel her brows pinch together.

“Looks like running to me.” He shifted to stand in front of her—and truth? She liked that he was straight with her. She’d never been a gentle flower. She never would be.

She leaned her head back into the cushion and looked up, way up. Jesus, he was tall. “I’m running
toward
something, Thorne, you know that. I want my freedom. I want to live how I choose, new powers or not. That’s the least I deserve after a century in that shithole.”

His shoulders did a little dip. “I know. Why do you think I’m not screaming at you?”

She narrowed her gaze at him. “This must be killing you.”

“What?”

“Being away from the warriors, from your duty? I know that much about you.”

He shrugged. “You’re right. I’m hating every minute of this because I abandoned my post, except for one thing.”

“What?”

The man almost smiled. “You’re worth it. I mean, your temper isn’t and sometimes I want to strangle you, but a warrior takes care of the woman he loves. Simple.”

“You are such a bastard to be so nice to me.”

Thorne reached down and took her hand. “Come here. Come shower with me. The hell if I’m going to keep talking to you with death vamp guts all over my chest.”

Life is full

Of a thousand firsts.

Savor each one.

—
Collected Proverbs,
Beatrice of Fourth

CHAPTER 5

Marguerite laughed. She shouldn’t have, not when he spoke of death vamp guts. She didn’t know why she wasn’t squeamish, but then she never had been. What he said should have made her puke. Instead this all just felt so normal. After he lifted her to her feet, she led the way into the back bedroom. The cabin was fairly small, three and a half rooms total.

The bathroom had a roomy shower but no tub.

Thorne moved to the shower and flipped on the water. He got rid of his clothes with a wave of his hand. He still faced the shower so she had a fine view of his ass. She tilted her head and sighed.

His skin was golden in color like it was permanently tanned, and there wasn’t a line on him. His hair hung down his back. She loved his long warrior hair, always had.

He stretched out his hand beneath the water, testing.

His left butt cheek flexed and his hamstring tightened; his calf muscle, too. She wasn’t sure but her jaw may have just trembled. The man was gorgeous.

He stepped inside and turned toward her, a beautiful profile view. His cock was partially erect and in terms of pure beauty, this was her preference. He wasn’t standing upright but he wasn’t limp, either. She wanted to be on her knees right now and worshiping.

She waved a hand and lost her leathers. Then took a little extra care with her feather earrings, settling them on the counter.

When she turned toward him, his gaze fell to the juncture of her thighs. She’d almost forgotten how different she was down there from the last time he’d seen her.

“Wow,” he murmured. “A beautiful peach.” His eyes fell to half-mast.

She knew that look. She savored that look. Then suddenly she realized he’d had sex with another woman just a couple of hours ago and her temper flared. She jumped in the shower and punched his left pec.

“What was that for, hellcat?”

“You slept with someone else.”

She turned into the spray and he was suddenly up behind her and moving what was now completely solid up and down her butt cheeks. He had to bend his knees to get there. This was the only thing she didn’t like about their disparity in height: Some adjustments were necessary.

His hands found her breasts as the water hit her face and drenched her hair.

“You smell like roses.”

“I thought you wanted to talk about my visions.”

“In a minute. I’m not clean enough yet.”

She laughed. “No, you’re not.”

She grabbed a bar of soap and made a big bubbly lather between her hands. She turned into him and spread the bubbles over his shoulders and chest. He was so big. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder, which put her face at pec level, a really fantastic place to be.

She started scrubbing and getting him clean. The whole time he touched her, his hands rubbing over her shoulders, down her arms, lightly over her breasts, her waist, her hips. He teased her mound a little with the crook of his knuckle, but mostly he just let her wash him. She found she enjoyed it.

It dawned on her that because there had never been private showers in the Convent, this was the first time she’d bathed with Thorne.

She stepped aside and let the shower spray hit all that foamy soap. She helped rinse it off his chest. She lathered up again and cleaned his thighs. There was a lot of man to cover, and she went all the way to his feet.

She then ordered him to turn around. She performed the same ministrations on his back and shoulders. He sighed a couple of times. She wasn’t sure what that meant.

She spent extra time on his ass, working the muscles slowly, cleaning down the crack and gliding over his balls from behind. A sigh became a familiar groan.

But she wasn’t done. She soaped up the backs of his legs, savoring the feel of the hair all the way down.

Of course, she’d saved the best for last. As she rose up, she demanded that he turn around once more to face her.

“I’m going to use my hand now and make sure you’re really clean.”

A kind of growlish-grunt came out of his mouth but he said, “I like your short blond hair. I thought I’d miss all that brown length but I don’t. This look suits you.”

She smiled up at him, craning her neck. “I must look like a drowned rat.”

He shook his head. “Nope. You’re beautiful.” He dipped down and kissed her. “Now, what were you saying about getting me really clean?” He smiled and suddenly her chest felt on fire. Oh, God, she couldn’t really be in love with him, not
really
in love with him, could she?

She glanced down and his length bobbed in front of her, hard and ready for her hands. She slid her soapy fingers over him. His back arched and his thighs flexed. “Shit, that feels good.”

That same fire-laden sensation continued to invade her chest as she worked his cock, gliding up and back, taking her time, thumbing the broad crown. She liked this man. She always had. She pretended to be completely engaged in her task, but her mind had spiraled elsewhere. She kept digging up images of Thorne coming to her at dawn at the Convent, making love to her on that horrible bed, enjoying and savoring her body, each time as intense as if it might be the last.

But here she was in the security of a strange unknown colony on Mortal Earth, hidden away, and she was actually spending time with him, and taking her time. She’d always been afraid that Grace would come back—and wouldn’t that have been embarrassing for brother and sister.

So here she was taking pleasure in doing something she’d never done with him before, just stroking him and playing with him.

The soap had a slight floral scent, but the shower had filled with that fragrant cherry tobacco scent of his, which had begun working like a couple of quick perfect fingers between her legs. Desire spun through her.

Thorne released a rush of air like he was holding back a cyclone, then spun her gently away from the spray and eased her against the shower wall, still facing her. He was breathing hard.

“I need you,” he whispered. He got in close and spoke into her ear. The whole time she worked his cock, all the way to the base and back.

“I need you, too.” Her voice sounded like rocks covered with mashed potatoes. She cleared her throat. Okay, so they were both breathing hard.

He grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her up, letting her back stay snug against the wall. She knew where he was headed, so she wrapped her legs around his waist. The position put her closer to eye level so she didn’t have to look so far up.

“Do it,” she whispered, but she planted a hand on his chest and pushed just a little. “Not so close, though. I want to watch.”

That beautiful smile of his appeared again.

She looked down and this time she smiled because her wax gave her the best view she’d ever had of Thorne’s cock entering her. She tilted her hips a little. His knees were bent and his thighs flexed as he pushed, just a little at a time. His cock was dark pink and rigid, a solid pole entering her, and as his body pulsed and pushed, a hiss slid from between her teeth.

“So good. I love this, Thorne. I do, I do.”

“Oh, yeah.” Could his voice get any deeper? “I’m almost all the way in. Shit, Marguerite, you’re so damn tight. Almost like ear—I mean, like all those other times.”

“All those other times?”

“Yeah, in the Convent. Never mind. Shit you feel so good.”

He’d almost said
earlier.
She was sure of it. Had he done some kind of mind-diving when she’d been bonking José? Could he do that kind of thing?

She might have pursued it, but he’d reached the end of her and now he was pulling back out, a slow, sensual withdrawal that brought a deep moan out of her throat. She arched her neck, and he didn’t wait for further invitation. He licked her throat and her vein rose so fast that she wasn’t surprised that he struck quickly and started drinking.

Oh, God,
she sent. She hadn’t meant to do that, to enter his mind, but there she was.

You taste so good.

You’re so hard, rock-hard.

He thrust in a steady driving pace and it was heaven. Between all that thickness moving in and out and the feel of his mouth sucking hard at her neck and taking her blood, she was on the cusp, heavily on the cusp.

But it felt different somehow, different in a really good way. That she’d thought of mind-diving made her wonder what it would be like. She knew she had power, lots of it, and she also knew that being deep in the mind of another vampire could trigger some added pleasure.

Thorne?

Yeah, baby. Oh, God, your blood. I can feel it working my muscles. I feel stronger. Just … just tell me what you want but damn I’m close.

I want in, as in deep-mind engagement. Now.

He’d never allowed it before because Endelle had a mind-link with him. He’d always feared she’d discover the truth and ship Marguerite’s ass to the Superstition Fortress.

A long pause. Maybe he was figuring out the question. Or maybe the hesitation meant something else.

The sucking slowed, as did the surge of his hips.

You sure?

Yeah.

He resumed the heavy sucking and began pushing into her with deep thrusts.
Do it,
he sent.

She hissed and mentally gave a big push and suddenly she was just inside his mind as deep as she could get.

He groaned long and loud but kept pulling at her neck.

But the image that hit her brought pleasure streaking through her, bringing her close. She could see Thorne over her, making love to her, but he wasn’t himself, he was José, or in José’s mind, or something.

Maybe she should have been mad. Instead, she gave a cry because it was hot as hell and Thorne began to pound into her, the sound of his flesh against hers a loud slap even with the water still hitting his back.