Read Surrender to Darkness Online
Authors: Annette McCleave
Surrender to Darkness (25 page)
She smiled. “Of course.”
“What’s a lovely lady like yerself doing with an old dog like him anyway? Stamina decreases with age, you know.”
“But skill improves.”
The Irishman grinned. Tossing an arm over her shoulders, he leaned in to whisper, “Well, then, my girl, you should know that I’ve spent the last seventy-nine years perfecting my—”
“Quinn.” Murdoch reappeared at her side. “Be careful, lad. You’re in danger of losing that hand. If not from me, then from her. Did I neglect to mention that she owns a katana and knows how to use it?”
The warning didn’t dent Quinn’s smile. But it did encourage him to step away. “Good to know.”
Murdoch lightly touched the small of Kiyoko’s back. “Let’s go.”
The layers of her clothing seemed to melt away under the heat of his hand. Although subtle, his touch was intimate, and she knew its purpose—to warn Quinn off. Such an obvious territorial statement would normally have annoyed her, but not today. Today, she wished the claim were true.
Murdoch dropped his hand the moment they left the bunkhouse.
Kiyoko sighed. There were times when she wished she were an ordinary woman with an ordinary life. Times when she wished she could act on the impulses that made her heart beat faster and her palms go damp. Murdoch was everything she wanted in a man—confident, competent, and honorable. But he was outside her grasp. In more ways than one.
They did not take the path back to the main house as Kiyoko expected. Instead, he led her through the small copse of trees behind the bunkhouse.
“Does the mage not live with you?”
“No, Stefan and his wife live over by the fishpond. Nice enough couple, but rather private.”
“So, his wife is not a Gatherer?”
Murdoch held a tree branch up so Kiyoko could pass easily. “No, Dika is a human woman much like any other. I believe they’re both from Romania.”
They circled an outbuilding with a wide, barnlike door and trod a flower-lined pathway to the metal door of a trailer. At least Kiyoko thought it was a trailer. No wheels were visible.
Murdoch rapped sharply on the door.
A slim, dark-eyed, dark-haired woman answered, wiping her hands on a towel. She glanced at Kiyoko, then smiled at Murdoch. “Sorry, Jamie. He’s not seeing visitors today,” she said.
Jamie?
Kiyoko tilted her head. Was that his given name?
Kiyoko tilted her head. Was that his given name?
Murdoch sniffed the air. “Are you making cabbage rolls? My favorite dish in the whole world?”
“You know I am.”
“Without inviting me in for a sample? Dika, you’re a heartless lass.” Murdoch smiled deeply at the mage’s wife, and Kiyoko’s heart thudded. Near impossible to deny a man anything when he smiled with such genuine warmth.
Dika was a stronger woman than she. She shrugged. “Any other day and you’d be welcome. Today, you go without.”
“Tell him it’s an emergency,” Murdoch said.
The smile faded from the other woman’s face. “He knows why you’re here.”
“Then he knows there’s a life at stake.” Murdoch tugged the door out of Dika’s hands, opening it wide. “I understand he’s upset about the Veil, but I refuse to stand out here—”
A plump man with inky black locks falling over his eyes pushed past Dika, blocking Murdoch’s entrance. “Upset? You think I’m just throwing a tantrum? You have no idea what you’re dealing with. Bringing her here was a huge mistake.”
Murdoch sighed. “Of all the people I know, you’re the only one who might be able to save her, Stefan. Where else would I go?”
“Send her back to Japan. Bury her under the fishpond. I don’t care what you do with her, just get her out of here.” With that, he yanked the door free and slammed it shut.
Stunned silence ensued.
A silence that quickly turned awkward.
“Perhaps I offended him somehow,” Kiyoko said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Murdoch said slowly. He stared at the door with a frown. “He must be ill or something. The man’s always been a bit strange, but he’s basically a good soul. Quick to offer his help, creative in his solutions, willing to risk his life.”
“Until now.”
Murdoch turned the frown on Kiyoko. “Aye, until now.”
“A shame we didn’t call him before making this rather long journey,” Kiyoko said, trying to disguise her fierce disappointment with a lighthearted smile. “I was hoping to see a bit of California before returning home.”
Murdoch didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained steady, holding hers.
Finally he said, “I can’t let you go.”
The words should have been thrilling. Instead, they were chilling. Her heartbeat slowed to match the painful throb in her chest. She knew precisely what he meant, and it wasn’t that he couldn’t bear to live without her.
“Unless I leave without the Veil,” she said.
His expression tightened. “You’ll stay until I say you can leave, and that won’t be until you can
safely
leave without it.”
safely
leave without it.”
Her fingers trembled. Kiyoko tucked her hands into the folds of her skirt and focused on her breathing, ruthlessly settling her thoughts. He had been honest about his goal from the start. Succumbing to the lure of his crooked smile had been her mistake, not his. “Until you say I can leave? Would you rather see me die here, far away from my home, far from all I know and love, than give me the freedom to choose my own fate?”
A riot of emotions played over his face, but for once the berserker did not surface. It was Murdoch alone who answered, his auras a steady pulse of periwinkle blue.
“I will
not
let you die.”
not
let you die.”
Azazel extended his left wing toward the wall of his castle chamber, twisting it slightly to catch the candlelight. He smiled. From his marginal coverts, across his downy alulars, and clear down to the tips of his long sweeping primaries, all was a glossy sea of black. The only gray feathers remaining on his left side were two scapulars up near his shoulder.
He peered in the smoky glass of the mirror.
Barely noticeable.
Of course, had he acquired the Veil, the picture would be even prettier. Murdoch’s untimely return had dashed his hopes in a most annoying way. But there would be other opportunities. It was only a matter of time before Kiyoko shared the whereabouts of the Veil, and while he cooled his heels, his army grew in strength. The Scottish Soul Gatherer would not be a problem in the end. Not for a legion of bone-sappers.
The real concern was that girl.
The one known as the Trinity Soul.
Her sensing skills were incredibly powerful. The moment the car had driven onto the estate, he’d felt her testing the edges of his glamour. Only by drawing on the full range of the skills he’d developed over centuries of seducing human women had he managed to keep his true identity cloaked. But that couldn’t last. One tiny slip on his part, one moment of inattentiveness, and she’d see through him.
In a perfect world, he would simply kill her. But two ancient primal spells bestowed upon her by Death and God had granted the young female immortality. And kidnapping or harming her would bring the wrath of the archangels down upon his head. How to effectively neutralize her was a conundrum worthy of some thought.
In the meantime, though, every new black feather was cause for celebration.
“I need food,” he bellowed.
The heavy wooden door of his chamber swung open and a strong, virile male with dark curly hair was tossed inside. Still proud, the man rose quickly from the cold stone floor, his chin high and his shoulders stiff. But as his gaze took in Azazel’s spiraled goat horns, the multitude of glowing runes etched into his skin by his own fingernails, and the mighty black wings, the fool’s air of defiance wavered.
The fallen angel smiled. “What’s your name?”
“Carl Roche.”
Azazel crossed the room and circled his prize, allowing his primary feathers to brush the man’s arms and legs. The accelerated pump of blood sang to him, and he leaned in close to let the waves of heat crest over him. “Not afraid, Carl?”
“You and your creepy crawlies don’t have nothin’ on me, man.”
Azazel laughed. “You’re a regular badass, are you?”
“I’ve killed twenty-seven people,” Carl affirmed.
“Punks? Hookers?” guessed Azazel with a faint sneer. Unable to resist, he ran a finger along the man’s stubbled chin and down his thick neck.
“Regular joes, too. Even kids, if you count those who OD’d on the drugs I sold. Then the number goes up to almost a hundred.”
“Oh?” Azazel lifted his gaze from the throbbing carotid pulse whispering his name. “Tell me, Carl. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
“Strangled my thirteen-year-old daughter to death. The bitch stole my cigarettes.”
Azazel raised his brows. “My, that
is
nasty.”
is
nasty.”
Carl nodded, pleased.
“But not nasty enough to dare compare yourself to me,” Azazel said. “You don’t make bottom rung demon for less than five hundred deaths or monstrous behavior like butchering innocents just for fun. And to reach the top of the ladder where I stand, you must be a truly gifted dispenser of evil. You, Carl Roche, are nothing more than a garden-variety worm.”
And with that, he tipped Carl’s head to one side and sank his fangs into the pulpy flesh of his neck.
13
M
urdoch yanked Kiyoko to his chest, bent his head to her lips, and kissed her with all the frustrated anger searing his veins. And just as she had in every dream he’d enjoyed in the past two weeks, she kissed him back with equal fervor.
urdoch yanked Kiyoko to his chest, bent his head to her lips, and kissed her with all the frustrated anger searing his veins. And just as she had in every dream he’d enjoyed in the past two weeks, she kissed him back with equal fervor.
He knew it was a dream. He knew because the berserker never surfaced. Never even flexed a toe. But he didn’t care. He let the vision own him, savoring every sweet nuance of Kiyoko’s soft skin, every heady rub of her lips against his, every bead of sweat that rose on his brow from resisting the urge to take her hard and fast.
He dug his fingers into her hair and angled her head to deepen the kiss. Wanting more.
Needing
more. Her lips parted under the encouraging sweep of his tongue, and he took full advantage. The whimper she released as their tongues tangled set his blood aflame and tightened his skin to painful intensity.
Needing
more. Her lips parted under the encouraging sweep of his tongue, and he took full advantage. The whimper she released as their tongues tangled set his blood aflame and tightened his skin to painful intensity.
He peeled off his shirt and tossed it aside.
Then just as quickly, he dispensed of Kiyoko’s flowery dress, leaving just the soft cotton lace of her underwear, and pulled her back against him. Skin to skin.
The dance of her delicate hands over the hot muscles of his back sent ripples of pleasure to every nerve ending in his body. And the responding pound of his blood near made his eyes roll back in his head. Dear God. He wanted those hands on other parts of his body, cupping him, squeezing him. In three short steps, he had her backed up against a birch tree, grinding his jeans-encased pelvis against her nearly bare body.
Trying desperately to relieve the pressure.
He’d never wanted a woman so badly.
He had to have her.
Releasing her hair, he attacked his belt buckle. But his fingers wouldn’t do his bidding. They bumbled the simplest of tasks, and he moaned his frustration against her lips.
She gently brushed his hands away, taking over. Belt, jeans, boxers. Quicker than he thought possible, he was free. But not satisfied. Not even close. He buried his face in the fragrant hollow of her throat and begged.
“Please,” he murmured, needing Kiyoko to touch him.
And she did. Mercy, her cool fingers on his achingly tight skin nearly finished him right then and there. But he gritted his teeth and held on. He wanted this never to end. The sensations were so vivid and cruel and beautiful that he could have expired at that moment and been happy.
Then she moved. With one hand holding him steady, she used the other to pump up and down. From the base of his cock to the very tip, teasing every sensitive spot along the way. Perhaps because it was a dream, or perhaps because she was a goddess, the hand stroking him was lubricated, rocking his world with a perfect blend of friction and glide.
The breath caught in Murdoch’s throat.
Sweet Jesus.
He really
was
going to die.
was
going to die.
It was almost as if she could read every feverish peak of excitement rippling through his body. She knew just how to touch him. Slow at first—oh, so tortuously slow—then faster as the tension in his body rose. Faster and faster.
His breaths grew raspy and shallow.
Every inch of his skin shivered with expectation.
She didn’t let up. She teased and taunted his flesh, making his head spin with every perfectly pressured stroke and every creative swirl over the tip.
And he came.
Lord, how he came. In a glorious explosion of sensation, accompanied by a low moan and a soft, adoring whisper of her name. His ears were ringing. His blood was pounding. And the scent that was uniquely Kiyoko filled his nose. Sheer heaven.
Other books
Untraceable by Laura Griffin
Dr. Death by Nick Carter - [Killmaster 100]
Part Time Marriage by Jessica Steele
Meridian by Alice Walker
The Rope Carrier by Theresa Tomlinson
The Innocent: A Coroner Jenny Cooper Crime Short by Hall, M R
Kickoff for Love by Amelia Whitmore
'Til Death Do Us Part by Amanda Quick
Murder by Mushroom by Virginia Smith
The Bluffing Game by Verona Vale