Wicked Burn (Realm Enforcers #3)(18)

Her mouth curved in a smile. Triumph felt good.

Then he moved.

Faster than any shifter, he clamped both hands on her arms and lifted, shoving her against the rock wall. She let out a startled eek, her hands fluttering in protest to his rigid biceps.

Held half a foot off the ground, she barely had time to register her position before his mouth crashed down on hers.

Fire exploded inside her, burning and spiraling out. He kissed her hard, going deep, banishing every thought she’d ever had. Sensations, dark and demanding, softened her muscles. She moaned, overtaken with impossible need.

Hunger, so strong it clawed, stole all rationality from her.

The pain of the instant craving fired through her, bringing a shot of true fear. Her body was taking over, and nothing else mattered.

As if he sensed her fear, he softened his assault, reducing the pressure and drawing her away from the edge. His mouth still worked hers, showing her the devastating pleasure to be found in his gentleness. The warmth spiraled around and spread through her chest.

He brushed his knuckles across the tops of her breasts.

They ached, heavy and full, her nipples hardening to sharp points.

He released her mouth, and she gasped in breath. Her lungs wouldn’t fill with air. His thumb slid beneath her bustier and ran across a nipple.

She gasped, and her legs trembled.

He watched her, lust shining in those dark eyes. Several deep breaths moved his broad chest.

She swallowed. Instinct kept her still. One move, just one movement, and they wouldn’t be able to stop. She wouldn’t be able to stop.

Slowly, with perfect control, he lowered her to the ground.

The second her feet touched, reality slammed home. “We can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

He released her and stepped back. “Not here, anyway.”

“Not anywhere.”

“Why not?” He straightened his tie, his gaze unrelenting.

Was he kidding her? “You’re a bastard.”

“Not technically, but I sure as hell acted like one. I’ve explained that. Fate gave me no other choice. Plus, you’ve had a century to forgive me. Time’s up.”

Panic still threatened to swamp her. “I appreciate that you saved me with my nutjob father.” Truth be told, she wasn’t happy she hadn’t taken him out herself. “But you and I were finished a long time ago.”

He shook his head. “The war is over, we’re allies, you’ve forgiven me, and now it’s time to deal, little bunny.”

That’s exactly what scared her. She’d never been able to handle Nicholai Veis, and now, with the Guard after her, wasn’t the time to try. “No.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve never been a coward. Now’s not the time to start.”

What an ass. She parted her lips to say something, anything, but the outside door opened.





Nick fully understood Simone’s reluctance to delve back into the quagmire of their wild relationship, but sometimes risks paid off. He’d seen it happen with Zane, and although Nick had maneuvered the chess pieces the best he knew how, he still never expected to succeed the way they had. Zane was now mated and even had a daughter.

Sometimes life worked out, even for the wounded and desperate.

He fought the urge to step in front of Simone just in case an attack waited on the other end of what turned out to be a long hallway. These were her people, and she had to face them without a shield.

For the moment, anyway.

If anybody threatened her, he’d become more than a mere shield.

Dim light filtered down and barely pierced the darkness on either side of the hall.

“Keep your steps on the carpet,” Simone whispered back. “One inch off, and weapons discharge from the walls.”

Fucking witches. “Great,” Nick drawled, his shoulders tightening to stone. Magic, the ancient and rational kind, surrounded him with threat. While the veil might be somewhere else, power vibrated against his skin, raising goose bumps. There was no doubt his energy, that of a demon, did not belong in this place.

A door at the end slid open silently, and he followed Simone into the underground chamber very few non-witches had ever seen.

The headquarters of the Council of the Coven Nine.

Even with magic nipping at him, he was somewhat disappointed. In the center of the room was a raised rock dais complete with long counter and nine high-backed velvet chairs. Empty chairs. Twin tables, divided by a walkway, faced the dais. Just like a modern courtroom. “Shouldn’t there be bats flying around and cats howling?” he whispered.

Simone’s shoulders straightened, and she approached the nearest table, drawing out a seat. Nick naturally sought out the exits, but there weren’t any. A quick glance behind him confirmed that the door he’d passed through no longer existed.

Wonderful.

He slid out the seat next to Simone and drummed his fingers on the stone. “Where is everybody?”

She stared straight ahead and clasped her hands together on the table. “We like to make an entrance.”

Oh yeah. The smooth wall behind the chairs parted, and three people walked through to take seats facing them. Peter Gallagher, Nessa Lansa, and Sal Donny, all members of the Nine, calmly watched him. He’d read extensive dossiers on Peter and Sal, but he’d never met them in person. Nessa had just been appointed to fill a vacancy, and he didn’t know anything about her. The door slid closed.