Hot for the Holidays

  th speed and skill and no hesitation at all. When he automatically avoided both, she whirled into a spinning kick he was forced to knock aside with a thrust of his forearm.

  She didn’t even stop for breath. Every blow was harder, faster, punch flowing into punch flowing into kick. She picked her targets like a pro, aiming for ribs, head, knees, ankles at seeming random.

  Just to see what she’d do, he finally started throwing punches of his own, human-slow at first. She blocked them with all the strength and speed her Latent genetics gave her.

  “You’ve done a hell of a lot more than teach kickbox ing,” he commented, jerking aside to avoid a kick that would have knocked a human cold. He caught her ankle and flipped her like a poker chip.

  Kat hit the ground on her back and rolled to her feet, as cleanly and easily as if she’d practiced it a thousand times. She probably had. “Black belt.” She was breathing a little faster now, but the anger was gone from her gaze. She’d obviously realized she couldn’t afford the luxury of rage against someone like him.

  Ridge snaked a fist past her guard and popped her on the nose. He pulled it, but it still rocked her head back.

  She retreated, smooth and graceful as a dancer. Her guard never dropped. He watched anger flicker in her eyes, then melt away into intense concentration. He could almost taste the determination that gave her blue gaze a cool, metallic glint.

  His own eyes narrowed in response. Let’s see what you can really do, Kat Danilo. Let’s see just how far you’ll go.

  at went after the vampire with everything she had, every skill she’d built over fifteen years of martial arts training. That was saying something. As a Latent, she was faster and stronger than most women and a good percentage of men. She’d brought down brawny male fighters twice her weight.

  Yet trying to hit the vampire was like punching water. He flowed aside from every punch, every kick. Then he’d flick out a casual hand, shoot right past her guard, and slap her just hard enough to sting. She never even saw the blows coming.

  He was beginning to piss her off. That was bad. Getting angry was the first step to losing. Stay cool, Kat. Stay in control.

  She couldn’t afford to lose. She had to prove she was worthy of the Gift.

  Breathing hard, sweat rolling down her thighs, her arms, Kat took a step back and began to circle. Ridge moved with her, all warrior’s grace. At least he was sweating, hard muscle gone slick and gleaming under the lights. Those loose pants of his had slid down, riding low over his hips, revealing a teasing glimpse of dark hair snaking down his belly.

  His green eyes burned at her, intense, hot. Hungry. His sensual mouth curled in a smile she suddenly wanted to bite.

  I’ve never seen any man more beautiful.

  The thought streaked past her guard like one of his taunting little slaps. She caught her breath.

  He lifted his fists, raising his guard. Muscle flexed and rolled. His biceps bunched, tight and round. There was an intriguing little pucker high on his shoulder that looked like the scar from a gunshot wound. A second scar, this one long and slashing, ran down one side of his abdomen and disappeared into his waistband. She wanted to trace it with her fingers.

  Focus, dammit.

  What the hell was wrong with her? She never got distracted during a bout. Though to be fair, none of her opponents fought half-naked.

  Or looked like Ridge Champion. Sweat-slicked, strong, so deliciously male.

  Focus, Kat!

  To force her mind back to business, she spun into a roundhouse kick. He ducked under her slashing leg, kicked out a foot, snagged her ankle, and dumped her on her ass.

  Ridge pounced before she could roll away, one hand capturing her wrists, legs twining around hers, his big body crushing her into the mat.

  Kat snapped into action, trying the half-dozen tricks she knew to get out of this kind of hold. None of them worked. He even jerked his head out of range of her attempted head-butt. And smiled.

  Think, dammit. He’s too freaking strong. You’re going to have to out-think him.

  “All right,” Kat gasped, forcing her muscles to relax, watching him under half-closed lids. “You win.”

  “Do I?” That sensual mouth twitched. “There’s a promising admission.” He relaxed fractionally, strong legs loosening their grip on her thighs. His lids drooped to a lazy half-mast, and he lowered his head.

  Kat went still under the kiss. It was slow, lazy, a thorough exploration of her mouth, as exquisitely tempting as the one the night before.

  No, even more so. Sweat and effort gave his body a sultry heat that eroded her sense of discipline. She could feel him going hard against her belly, the long width as intriguing as his soft, sinful lips.

  Kat opened for him with a moan. Her head spun, and she let herself yield. His free hand slid up to cup her breast, sending teasing heat spiraling despite the thick fabric of her athletic bra.

  She squirmed, letting her legs fall apart. He nudged her chin up to give her throat a teasing nibble, then lifted his weight to allow her to spread her legs around his. She braced a palm against his muscular ribs. . . .

  And gained precisely the leverage she needed.

  With a twist of her legs and a heaving thrust of her arms, Kat threw him off and bounced to her feet, falling into a combat crouch. “Let’s try that again,” she growled through gritted teeth.

  And Ridge, lying flat on his back, began to laugh.

  Frustrated, she raked her sweaty hair out of her eyes and glared at him. “What’s so damned funny?”

  “Grace did explain how you actually become a Maja, I trust?”

  “Yeah, we have to have . . .” She trailed off. “Oh.”

  “Yeah.” He gestured at the erection still tenting his pants. “Oh.”

  She blinked at him, trying to decide whether to feel triumphant or moronic. “You mean I passed your test.”

  He chuckled, folding his arms behind his head as he gazed up at her. “Honey, you knocked it out of the park.”

  “I thought I had to beat you.” Kat frowned in confusion.

  He snorted. “Not very damned likely. I’m an eighty-year-old vampire with sixty years of combat experience, and I once deadlifted a Cadillac off a pedestrian. You’re good, but you ain’t that good.”

  Realization struck. “I never had a prayer.”

  “You did better than I expected.” He grimaced. “Then again, I didn’t expect you to be able to throw a punch without detailed instructions and a map. Most new Majae can’t.”

  Puzzled, Kat dropped to her knees on the mat. “So what the hell was the point?”

  Ridge knelt in front of her like the sensei he could have been. “I wanted to know if you could think on your feet. If you’d panic when faced with overwhelming odds. Whether you could take a punch without running home to Mommy.”

  She raised a brow. “And?”

  “And you don’t panic. When you got pissed off, you controlled it instead of making stupid mistakes. Pain doesn’t stop you. And you kept fighting long after anybody with any sense would have thrown in the towel. What’s more, you just played me for a sucker, which is both embarrassing and seriously impressive.”

  Her heart was thundering a heavy metal beat in her ears. “So you’ll make me a Maja?”

  The humor faded from his eyes, leaving his expression grim. “Yeah. We need people like you. I just hope you don’t end up regretting it.” He rose to his feet. “Come on. I don’t know about you, but I could use a bath.”

  Kat blinked, imagining Ridge naked and covered in bubbles. Oh, this is going to be good.

  FIVE

  She’d been right, Kat decided. You could swim laps in Ridge’s tub.

  He was down on one knee, testing the water temperature and adding some mysterious oil that formed aromatic clouds of bubbles. His back looked deliciously broad, muscle flexing and working as he moved, and she contemplated it in happy anticipation.

  When the tub was filled and fragrant, he stood and
turned toward her. He stood tall and impossibly handsome in the golden light of the candles that rested on every flat surface. They’d all burst simultaneously into flame when he and Kat walked into the room.

  Ridge claimed the candles were magic, but she suspected they’d been ignited by the sheer lust in the air. You could almost see it, sparking and swirling around them like amorous fireflies.

  He moved toward her, his eyes heavy-lidded with need. A long, distinct shape strained against the soft cotton of his pants. She wanted to tug down his waistband for a shameless ogle.

  Ridge tipped her chin up for his kiss. If he felt the same impatience she did, he hid it well, taking his time with the slow mating of mouths, teasing, stroking, lip-to-lip, tongue dancing around tongue. Kat sighed, relaxing into his solid strength. His hands came to rest, one cupping her butt, the other on the dip of her waist.

  The kiss spun on, lazy and drugging. The taste of him intoxicated—a hint of salt, a trace of mint, and over it all, that dazzling masculinity.

  Deep inside her, something woke, responded with a hot leap of need. Something furious and demanding that had never risen for another man.

  The Gift?

  The thought shot a little shiver of mingled excitement and fear through her. Grace had given her a rough idea what to expect, but how was it going to feel? Magic igniting in her every cell, changing her, making her immortal. Something other than human. . . .

  “Shhh,” Ridge breathed against her mouth. He drew back enough to smile into her eyes. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  Ha. Showed how much he knew. That, or she was a coward, because she could think of any number of things to fear.

  Mostly failure.

  But then he caught the hem of her top, peeled it smoothly off, and tossed it aside with an offhand little flip. Her bra followed a moment later.

  She swallowed, looking up at him uncertainly as he gazed down at her breasts in the warm candlelight. Did he think them too small? Too big?

  You never knew with guys.

  “Lovely,” Ridge sighed, and she relaxed at the honest delight in his eyes. He lifted one hand, gently brushing his palm over one erect nipple before slowly cupping her in warm, gentle fingers.

  Kat let her head fall back at the feather-soft pleasure as he stroked her. His fingers traced delicate patterns over the full curves, brushing the tight peak, thumb sliding back and forth.

  “Sweet.” She sighed. “It feels so sweet.”

  One corner of his mouth kicked up. “Yes. It does.”

  He dropped to one knee and caught the waistband of her shorts and panties in both hands. Tugged slowly downward. Leaned forward to press a kiss to her belly, right below her navel. She giggled at the ticklish sensation.

  “God,” Ridge murmured, still drawing the shorts down, “you’ve got the longest legs.”

  She smiled shyly and stepped out of the bottoms, bracing one hand on his broad shoulder.

  He knelt there, gazing up at her, admiring. His green eyes looked almost black, shadowed by the fall of his hair over his forehead.

  Then he leaned forward, and his mouth found her.

  Kat gasped, startled, as his tongue slipped across her clit. The hot, wet pleasure hit her like a silken lash, fiery yet impossibly sweet.

  He spread her lips for better access, and licked lazily. First tiny flicks, then exquisite little circles. He reached between her legs. The sensation of one finger slipping deep tore a gasp from her lips. She threaded her hands into the cool silk of his hair and held on for dear life.

  He drew back just as she was about to spill over.

  “Ridge!” she protested, as he rose to his feet with that pacing panther grace. “Has anybody ever mentioned you’ve got a sadistic streak?”

  He smiled, very male, just shy of smug. “A time or two.” And he pulled down the waistband of his cotton pants. His cock sprang free.

  She forgot her irritation in anticipation. His erection looked delicious, a thick, rosy length that jutted from his muscular belly.

  He ignored her shameless, hungry gape and calmly drew his pants down his brawny thighs, stepped out of them, and straightened.

  And let her stare.

  God, he was beautiful. Kat was no stranger to physical power—there were plenty of muscular men at the gym— but there was a sculpted elegance to Ridge’s body you didn’t get from pumping iron. His was a warrior’s build, long and lean, with a swordsman’s grace and agility.

  A big hand closed over hers, shocking her out of her lust-induced trance. Smiling indulgently, Ridge guided her over the side of the tub and down into the delightfully warm water.

  Kat sighed in pleasure as she sank onto the low bench just beneath the foamy surface. Little wavelets sloshed as he joined her, drawing her back into his arms.

  Picking up a bar of fragrant soap, he began to run it over her skin, lazily stroking. Kat let her eyelids slide closed, the better to concentrate on all the wonderful sensations.

  Bubbles caressed her arms, her breasts, as gentle currents swirled around her body, seductively warm. The cake of soap felt slick, cool, as he stroked it over her nipples, around her arms, down her torso to her legs.

  She let her head fall back against his shoulder. “I feel like melting chocolate. Like there’s not a bone in my entire body.”

  “Mmm,” he purred. “That’s okay. I’m hard enough for both of us.”

  Kat chuckled without opening her eyes. “You’re a bad, bad man, Ridge Champion.”

  “And getting worse every minute.” The cake of soap slid wickedly between her legs. He turned it on edge, used its slick, rounded surface to maddening effect. Kat caught her breath in delight as it slid over her clit, teasing until she squirmed.

  “Like that?” he rumbled in her ear, his voice deep, almost thrumming.

  “Mmm.” She couldn’t seem to manage anything more coherent.

  “How about this?” Fingers replaced the soap, slick and skilled. Circled, danced, strummed. She panted, rolling her hips in tiny, needy jerks as he tormented her gently.

  His mouth found the side of her neck, nibbled until she turned her head to find his lips blindly. They kissed, his hands skimming her with soapy fingers. He stroked nipples, followed the curve of breasts, traced belly button and hip bone. Found erogenous zones she didn’t even know she had, and played over them until she quivered in response.

  No lover had ever made her body leap like this. Lost in the hot honey rise of passion, she reached back and hooked an arm around his neck, arching into his hands, gasping.

  No, she’d never had a man like this.

  very fluid movement of her long, lush body was an act of seduction. She twisted and rolled, stroking herself against him like a cat, purring and lazy with pleasure. Her nipples jutted, hard and pink and sweet as candy atop breasts that filled his hands with satin warmth. Foam rolled down her body, hissing and popping in gentle accompaniment to the lapping of warm water around them.

  Ridge was hard as marble against her ass, and his fangs ached with the need to taste her. Her heartbeat pumped a demanding beat in his ears. He knew he must have wanted a woman this much in his decades as a vampire.

  But damned if he could remember when.

  Need beat in his blood, pulsed in the root of his fangs and the thick jut of his cock. He felt like distilled lust, a pure and blazing psychic heat. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep from claiming her.

  Sliding a finger deep into creamy flesh, Ridge moaned. God, she felt so tight, yet so impossibly slick and ready. The thought of how she’d feel clasping him made him shudder.

  Kat rolled her head against his shoulder, arching her neck in invitation. He bent his head to kiss her there again . . .

  And felt the big vein pulsing against his lips in thumping temptation. His eyes slid closed, and he pressed the tips of his fangs against that vein.

  “Yes.” She gasped. Her Southern Comfort voice sounded even more throaty, and her gaze met his, fey and wi
tchy with need. “Do it. Take me.”

  He somehow wrestled enough self-control to ask, “You sure?”

  “Yes!”

  The hunger demanded he fall on her like a wolf, but he fought it back and kissed her there slow, teasing.

  Then he bit. Her flesh gave under the sharp slice of his fangs, blood filling his mouth. She arched with a shocked little cry. He started feeding pleasure back to her in long pulses, keeping time with every swallow of her blood.

  he felt the first bright, scarlet sting of his teeth as a sudden shock. But delight flooded in behind the flash of pain—a dark, intense pleasure that was somehow all feral male, as if he magically shared what he felt.

  All the while, those big hands stroked, one tugging slippery nipples, the other seeking between her thighs. Sliding parted fingers back and forth around her clit until long curls of delight spiraled up her spine like red ribbons.

  The orgasm took her by surprise, a dazzling explosion that made sparks flash in front of her eyes. She cried out.

  He growled at the sound. Lifted his head.

  Before she quite knew what was happening, he rolled with her, sweeping her under his body, bracing her backside on the seat rimming the tub. Then he was between her thighs and inside her in one long, breathtaking lunge. Kat yowled again at the sheer overwhelming wonder of the sensation.

  It felt like he filled her to the throat, deliciously ruthless, surrounding her in slick male muscle, hot and wet and very, very ready. With a rumbling growl, he began to thrust.

  Kat hooked her heels over his ass and ground back at him, giving as good as she got, mindless with the clawing rise of need. Wanting more. On the razored verge of something she couldn’t identify. Something she had to have, if only . . .

  Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. More. Only a little bit more, and she’d . . .

  He roared, a deep bellow of passion, stiffening against her, pulsing deep.

  At first she thought it was another orgasm. Hot white, blinding, a delicious, searing pleasure that had her convulsing against him.

  And then the pleasure bled away, and she could see again. It seemed she was somewhere else, a room she recognized.

  And she saw—

  idge threw back his head and roared again as his orgasm pulsed in liquid fire. The pounding intensity of it made him shudder and gasp.

  Until at last he collapsed, wrapping himself around Kat in exhausted, desperate gratitude.

  A thought penetrated his dazed lassitude. We’re going to have to do this again. Takes three, maybe four times to activate the Gift. Thank Merlin.

  It came to him that the edge of the tub was probably digging into her butt, so he rolled over with her, draping her across his body. “Damn, Kat,” he said, half-laughing as he lifted his head to look down into her face. “You’ve kicked my . . .”

  He broke off. Her eyes were wide, unfocused, her expression blank. He jerked upright in alarm, but she only lolled limply in his arms. “Kat! Kat, what’s . . . ?”

  “Mom,” she whimpered. Not exactly the word a man wanted to hear from his new lover. Then she blinked and snapped into focus, her eyes widening in terror. One small hand clamped onto his shoulder, nails digging deep. “Ridge! Ridge, there’s something wrong with my mother!”

  SIX

  Kat scrambled out of the bath, naked, wet, bubbles streaming down her luscious backside. Ridge would have been entranced by the view, had it not been for the panic in her eyes. He levered himself out of the tub and handed her a towel as she looked around in panicked help lessness. “What did you see?”

  Kat took the towel automatically. “Just a flash of her face. She looked asleep. But I felt a sense of terror, like there’s something horribly wrong.” Fear and doubt warred on her face in heartbreaking combination. “Maybe I just imagined it.”

  “You saw this just as you came?” He strode toward the bathroom door, drying his shoulders with the towel he’d snatched off its rack.

  “Yes.” She padded after him, her clothes bundled in her hands. “Does that make a difference?”

  “Yeah. You haven’t come into your Gift yet—we haven’t made love often enough—but many Latents get visions the first time. If you saw it, it either has happened or is about to.”

  Kat’s face paled, and she swayed. Seeing her stagger from the corner of one eye, Ridge turned and caught her elbow.

  “My mother’s suicidal.” Her eyes looked huge, and she pulled away from him to begin dragging on her clothes, though foam still clung to her wet skin. She hadn’t taken the time to use that towel. “Mama’s battled clinical depression for years, but it’s worse in the Christmas season. She’s attempted suicide twice, but I always got to her in time.”