“Mine,” he growled. “Mine.”
“Max . . . please.” Victoria didn’t know if she was begging him to stop or never to stop, her body reveling in the rough treatment, loving the act of being used for the sole purpose of giving him pleasure. His cock drove relentlessly into her, thrusting through grasping and greedy tissue, sliding furiously across sensitized flesh.
He threw his dark head back, his hair drifting around his broad shoulders, muscles straining and neck arching as a rush of white-hot semen spurted inside her. Her hands and feet flexed with the need for movement, her chest heaving for breath as he emptied himself without missing a stroke. A virile snarl reverberated through the massive room, a sound of primitive masculine satisfaction that had her coming again.
Her body was still racked by the potent climax when he yanked free of her. The bar disappeared and he flipped her, mounting her from behind and hammering deep. Sprawled prone on the bed and blanketed by his fevered, sweat-slick body, Victoria clawed at the comforter and bit into it, stifling the cries of pleasure she couldn’t contain.
Her eyes rolled and then closed, her senses overloaded by the smell of Max’s hardworking body, the feel of his muscles flexing against her as he succumbed to animal instinct and lost everything except the need to ride her and come in her. His cock retained its desperate hardness, his magic pulsed in her, flooding her. His aura was smoky and dark, tainted by magic he’d absorbed from the vanquishing earlier that day. She understood his black mood then. Understood what was driving him so hard.
She surrendered, opening herself in every way. Max felt it and snarled, his hands gripping hers, their fingers lacing tightly. Magic cycled between them, the essence cleansed as it filtered through them both.
His face pressed into the crook of her neck, his sweat blending with her own, his chest heaving with exertion. He fucked her like a man possessed, and maybe, in a way, he was. She could only take it, take him, and come. Over and over again.
I love you. He nudged her thigh wider with his knee so he could thrust deeper. Love you.
Victoria pressed her cheek to his. I know.
Xander straightened from his lounging pose in a darkened shop doorway across the street from the apartment building where Westin lived with St. John. The warlock had left earlier, a fact made evident by the sudden void where magic had pulsed before. Still, a quick reconnaissance had revealed he’d left powerful wards in place. That was to be expected.
What Xander hadn’t anticipated was Westin’s absorption of some of Sirius’s magic. That development infuriated him. He’d carefully manipulated Sirius into thinking he was the bright one, giving him false confidence. Xander had planned every word and action to goad the other warlock into striking at Westin first. He’d deliberately appeared in the shadows at the precise moment of Sirius’s attack, catching Westin’s attention and thereby luring the Hunter to strike out and vanquish his foe. The plan had been for him, Xander, to absorb Sirius’s power, not Westin. Then he would’ve been powerful enough to draw the attention of the Source of All Evil. He might have become as potent as the Triumvirate had once been.
But all wasn’t lost. Westin would pour some of that hijacked magic into St. John, making it easier for Xander to do so as well. The Familiar had been feral once. A hefty dose of black magic and a tiny seed of doubt about Westin would push her over that edge again. Sirius had been useful in coming up with that plan. If Xander could turn St. John, she’d be uncontrollable, wild, and Westin would lose the augmentation she gave him. He’d also be knocked off his game by being at odds with his lover, and that’s all Xander needed—a single opening.
“There you are,” he murmured to himself as a lovely blonde spun through the revolving doors of the apartment building as if he’d conjured her.
Dressed in a new outfit composed of slim black slacks and a blue sleeveless blouse, Jezebel Patridge ignored the greeting of the doorman and glared at the world around her. She could’ve bridged the distance between the building and anywhere she chose to go, but she clearly had no idea where to end up and probably lacked the desire to leave. She wanted Westin. Taking off wasn’t going to help her cause. But waiting around for him was clearly not sitting well.
Xander stepped out of shadows and sent out a soft pulse of magic to attract her attention. When she glanced his way, he shifted as if hiding from her gaze and set off at a brisk walk. Fleeing. Or so she’d think.
And she would chase him. She was a Hunter, after all. And he was a rogue, presently on the Council’s most-wanted list.
Five minutes later, Patridge’s hair was spread out in a golden halo on the dank ground of an alley, her chest split by a dual hit of magic.
Xander squeezed his wrist and smiled as he dripped his tainted blood into the cavity.
Max circled Victoria’s nipple with his tongue, his hips rolling softly as he stirred his cock in her cum-soaked depths. She mewled, her fingers stroking weakly along his back. She was exhausted, her short cap of hair wet with sweat, her skin flushed a rosy pink, her dark lashes fluttering over closed eyes.
He gentled her while soothing himself. He was as exhausted as she was by his violent need to dominate her. To rut in her until he doubted he could stand. And she’d let him.
It angered him that he hadn’t seen his need for what it was—the black magic inside him seeking an outlet in his beloved Familiar. His soul mate. The woman he loved more than he’d ever thought himself capable of loving anyone.
Now her skin tasted of that taint, her addicting vanilla essence muskier and more provocative to his senses. He was spiraling down the drain and taking her with him.
Turning his head, he teased her other nipple with light laps of his tongue. “Am I hurting you?” he asked, his voice hoarse from the many times he’d roared his pleasure while coming.
“No,” she whispered, her fingers digging into his ass with the barest force. “Don’t stop.”
His cock slid in and out of her leisurely, concern for her comfort foremost in his mind. He’d stop if he could, but he needed the connection, needed to be certain that everything was okay between them. The smell of her skin, the softness of her body, her touch . . . nothing in his life had ever been as necessary as she was.
Shifting carefully, he began to stroke the head of his cock over the sensitive bundle of nerves inside her. He felt the tension in her rise, listened for the catch in her breath. When she seized in orgasm, he groaned and followed her, coming along with the delicate rippling of her cunt.
He was gasping and shuddering with pleasure when he felt the warding around his loft signal the presence of magickind. He was on his feet in an instant, his cock wet and semi-erect, his body tapping into his newly stored magical reserves to strengthen muscles weakened by hours of hard sex.
You have exceeded our expectations once again, the Council said, a multitude of voices speaking eerily as one—a hive mind of the most powerful witches and warlocks of all time. You vanquished Sirius with astonishing swiftness.
“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asked, tugging on a pair of jeans. He cast an eye toward the bed and saw that Victoria had curled onto her side in a catnap.
Your power is impressive. We would like to see a demonstration of it.
“The fact that Powell is dead is demonstration enough.” He moved toward the front door, his right arm at his side, the palm filling with a ball of roiling magic.
Do not forget that it is because of our forbearance that you are not a hunted rogue now.
“Don’t forget you’d still be chasing down Powell and likely losing Hunters if not for me. This is a symbiotic relationship, not a gift.”
Let us see how long it takes for you to vanquish Barnes, They said snidely.
“Yeah,” he agreed, reaching for the handle of his front door. “Let’s see.”
He wrenched it open and drew his arm back.
“Whoa!” Gabriel lifted both hands in surrender. “Kick back, killer.”
Max’s gaze
narrowed, assessing the man he would always view as a rival. Gabriel Masters grinned, his hazel eyes lit with amusement. The dark-haired warlock was upper level, but not quite up to Max’s skill. Still, he carried enough power to have been selected as Victoria’s warlock . . . before Max had taken her as his own. “What are you doing here, Masters?”
They weren’t friends, never had been. With both of them out on a hunt more often than not, they’d rarely had the chance to cross paths.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Masters asked.
Max stepped back and gestured the other man inside. Across the room, he conjured folding screens to hide the bed where his kitten slept. Still, the scent of her pheromones was heavy in the air, and Masters wasn’t immune. The warlock shifted on his feet, his shoulders rolling back.
“Mine,” Max warned in a low rumble.
“She’s the reason I’m here.” Masters faced him. “Word’s spreading fast about the vanquishing today. Jezebel says you took Powell out with a single hit.”
“So?”
“So everyone knows your Familiar helped you. I’m not the only Hunter thinking about taking on a Familiar now.”
“It has its benefits,” he conceded. “But Familiars are a helluva lot of work. If it were anyone but Victoria, I wouldn’t think it’d be worth the effort.”
“Yeah, I can smell how much work is involved.” Masters’s smile faded. “Some are asking if you’re powerful enough now to challenge the High Council.”
A chill ran down Max’s spine. The Council wouldn’t like that. They took all threats very, very seriously. If they viewed him as one, they’d take steps. And Victoria’s augmentation was what gave him an advantage.
“I wouldn’t go to the trouble if I could,” he drawled, careful to hide his disquiet. “I’ve got everything I want right here.”
“You do. Maybe others don’t.”
Max crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Don’t bring revolution into my house.”
Masters’s lips curved wryly. “Why not? You brought it into magickind to begin with.”
Eight
Victoria’s stomach knotted at the news Gabriel Masters passed on to Max. She feigned sleep, as she rarely slept deeply while napping, and decided she wouldn’t let on that she knew unless he told her directly.
She wondered if he’d anticipated this, if he’d kept her from hunting with him to avoid just this sort of thing. He wouldn’t want to upset her, even if explaining kept them from fighting about his decision to exclude her.
Max showed Gabriel out and then padded over to the bed. She heard him, smelled him, felt soothed by his presence the closer he came to her. The bed dipped as he sat beside her. His hand stroked down her side.
“Kitten,” he said quietly, bending toward her and pressing his lips to her shoulder. “I have to go.”
When he straightened, she rolled to her back and looked up at him. “Shouldn’t you get some sleep? Or will you be home soon?”
“The sooner this hunt is over with, the better.” His gray eyes softened as they looked down at her. “Then we’ll go away for a while. Someplace tropical, maybe, where you’ll be naked all day. Or snowbound, where I could spread you out in front of a fireplace.”
She caught the hand he had resting on her hip and squeezed it. “Sounds wonderful.”
“Do you want to stay here? Or should I take you back to the apartment?”
“Home.” She sighed. “I have work to do. It was insane at the hotel today.”
“Can you work from home the next few days?”
“Sure.” She hated working away from the office, but she wasn’t going to bitch. Max had enough on his mind.
“Let’s get cleaned up, then,” he murmured, a soft smile on his lips.
Thirty minutes later, Victoria felt a semblance of equanimity. Max had washed her from head to toe, his dexterous fingers kneading her scalp and every muscle. He was so good to her. So good for her.
He dressed her in a simple set of pajamas, choosing to secure each button himself rather than with magic. “There.”
“Here.” She lifted onto her tiptoes and kissed his jaw. “And I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”
A rough sound escaped him and he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. He held her for a moment, then they were home. The abrupt introduction of sax music jolted her. But the bigger shock came from the naked blonde in a leather collar who was strolling into the living room by way of the bedroom hallway.
“Max,” Jezebel purred, stretching as if just waking. “I thought you were kidding about bringing your kitten home to play with us.”
Victoria’s gaze was riveted to the MAX engraved in the black leather circling the witch’s neck and to the marks on her breasts that were perfectly laid out and aligned in Max’s recognizable pattern.
“Jezebel,” Max growled. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“You, darling.” She smiled and cupped her breasts, offering them up. “Any way you want.”
Vicious magic surged within Victoria, thick and black and hot. It roiled and singed her hands, itching to be freed. “Bitch,” she hissed, “you’d better vanish real quick.”
“I told you, darling,” Jezebel said, licking her lips as she tugged on her own nipples. “Familiars don’t play well with others.”
Max stalked toward her and Victoria lost it, unable to let him put his hands on another woman. Especially a naked woman wearing a collar with her man’s name on it.
Her hands thrust forward before she thought about it, magic shooting from her fingertips in arcs of green lightning. The hit lifted Jezebel from her feet and sent her flying backward down the hall.
“For fuck’s sake!” Max’s head whipped toward Victoria, revealing a thunderous scowl. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Obviously you did when you brought that trash into my house!” she shot back, her hands fisting against the urge to strike out again.
A Mack truck slammed into her chest. At least that’s what it felt like. She was tossed onto her back and sent skidding into the sofa. Victoria screamed, her chest smarting and pajama top smoking from the direct hit.
“Stop!” Max roared, stepping into the middle of the hallway as a barrier.
Jezebel pounced and leaped over him, spinning midair to land on her feet, her hair flowing around her like a cape. Victoria was even more nimble, her catlike reflexes kicking in with a vengeance. Max lunged, his arms wrapping around the witch from the back, and poof. They were gone.
Unreasonable fury coursed through Victoria along with a rush of magic the likes of which she’d never felt before. She trusted Max, believed in him, was sane enough to know he couldn’t come at her the way he had all evening if he’d gotten off earlier with someone else.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t spitting mad that he’d brought his ex into their house, an ex who was bat-shit crazy and hurting for an ass kicking.
“Max!” she yelled. But he was gone.
Seething, she powered off the stereo and stalked through the house, searching for any trace of Jezebel. The rage grew when she found her and Max’s bed mussed and smelling like the witch’s perfume. It smelled like something else, too. Something smoky and slightly acrid. She tore off the sheets, shredding them with claws she hadn’t realized had extended.
She was running through all the things she had to say to Max when he returned, growing angrier with every minute that passed, when the wards around the apartment jingled with warning.
“You want more, witch?” she muttered, dropping the sheets and heading toward the door. Her palms started itching again, reminding her of the shot she’d taken before. Her magic had never manifested as lightning arcs of power previously. She needed Max to help her understand that. And a clearer head.
Gods, how much had this hunt affected them?
She reached the front door and realized the threat was behind her. The hairs on her nape stood on end and she pivoted, shifting to her fe
line form to make less of a target. The windows crackled with the energy surging from outside, and she shook off the clothes that were puddled around her paws and raced to one, leaping onto a console table to get a better look.
Eyes darting, she searched the skyline, seeing nothing to combat but feeling the pull of magic. It pierced her chest where the wound still throbbed, forcing a shift into a human form against her will. She fell from the console, back arching, magic flaring in a surge of power that shattered the windows.
A black cloud poured through the breach and solidified beside her as a man. Copper-haired, with eyes so dark they appeared black, he radiated a dark power that sent goose bumps racing across her bare flesh.
He knelt beside her and she found she couldn’t move, could barely breathe. The place on her chest where Jezebel had struck her with magic burned as if she’d been hit with acid. It ate through her in agonizing darts, spreading throughout her body.
He smiled. “Relax. It won’t last long.”
The pain hit her heart and she cried out, her muscles seizing. Then she mercifully lost consciousness.
The moment Max materialized in Jezebel’s home, he shoved her away from him, his palms burning from the touch of her skin. She was feverishly hot, her eyes wild. The deep gash by her shoulder from Victoria’s strike didn’t seem to register at all. And the curve of her lips was so crazed it gave him chills.
He waved a hand to clothe her in a robe.
“Max.” She shook her head. “You didn’t used to be this uptight. Clearly your Familiar isn’t keeping you happy.”
“You don’t want to make an enemy out of me, Jezebel,” he warned. “I suggest you think of me as a fond memory and stay the hell away.”
“But we’re drawn to each other! I know you feel it, too.” She stepped closer, her hand extended as if to touch him.