Claimed (6 page)

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Authors: Rebecca Zanetti

BOOK: Claimed
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Was there a warning in those words? The topic echoing around in Emma's head shot to the surface. “I met Simone Brightstone. Shifter?” Emma swirled her own drink.
Dage narrowed his gaze. “Witch. In more ways than one.”
“Yet you dated her.”
“I was young and stupid. It lasted less than a month.”
“Really? That's interesting, considering she's about my age. You haven't been young and stupid for quite some time, King.” Did he think she was a moron?
Dage grinned. “She's a few centuries old, love. True witches—not those just practicing a religion—true witches are another species on earth. Immortal.”
Well, crap. “There's no way to kill them?” How had humans missed this?
He laughed out loud. “Beheading or burning. Both methods will take care of a witch.” His eyes softened. “Again, I was young ... we weren't a good match.”
Emma could understand that.
Dage eyed Emma's blue and silver gown like a hungry tiger who'd spotted dinner. “I have to say, my taste has certainly improved through the years.”
The phone buzzed and Emma placed her drink on the sofa table, moving in a rustle of silk to the desk. “Yes? Okay. Tomorrow, then.” She replaced the receiver, pivoting to face Dage. “The doctor said Cara has morning sickness and to drink some tea before getting a good night's sleep. He'll check her in the morning.” The doctor would know, right? “Though, I'd like to conduct my own tests as soon as possible.” That sense of unease whirled in her brain. She couldn't think rationally about her own sister. Cara had to be okay.
“Of course. Our lab will be ready soon.” Dage's gaze warmed and wandered down her form and back up again.
Emma shifted her stance, an awareness beginning to weigh down the oxygen in the room. She fought to breathe normally and returned for her drink, her gaze on the king.
Firelight danced over the hard planes of his face like a lover in heat. Kissing, melting, landing. Silver eyes melted to liquid while he tracked her progress across the dusky room, his deceptively calm stance belying the vibration of muscle and power beneath his skin.
Stillness echoed around him as he stood near the daunting stone hearth; it was as if the air held its breath. For what she didn't know. Wasn't sure she wanted to know. She reacted to the tension, and lifted her chin in instinctive defiance.
Sharper gray flecks appeared in his eyes in response, and she wondered what ran through his mind. She stared back at him unblinkingly, her heart speeding up to knock uncomfortably against her ribs. Power blanketed him like the thickest of mantles even in the comfortable room. A wicked shiver of awareness wound leisurely down her spine.
He straightened and nodded toward the chair.
She didn't move, continuing her perusal of him. His black hair was unbound and free about his massive shoulders. He'd tossed his jacket aside, his hard chest outlined nicely by the soft shirt. Through his slacks, his thick legs showed power in the bunched muscles. She tried not to notice the obvious bulge in the center of his groin; an impressive erection he did nothing to hide.
“Emma, we need to talk.” His voice was a low growl. Even with that spectacular body, his face commanded the most attention. Sharp planes threw deep hollows into dangerous darkness, the square jaw hinting at determination and the full lips promising the heated depths of wicked sensuality. The dark slashes of his brows and the irrationally long lashes unapologetically contrasted with the burning silver of his eyes.
“I know.” A breathiness coated her voice and she fought the urge to clear her throat. It wouldn't help.
“Sit down.” This time he didn't nod toward the chair.
She didn't want to sit, needing to be on her feet to face the masculine power swirling around the room. “No.”
A simple word Dage hadn't truly heard in over three hundred years.
Three feelings slammed into him simultaneously; the first was surprise, the second a grudging admiration, and the third was need. The need to dominate. It flashed through his blood with raw claws and struck harshly at his groin. Yet he deliberately turned and placed his brandy on the mantel before facing her squarely.
He reminded himself that he was a king, and control was his responsibility. But as his eyes slowly wandered down the deep shimmering gown that hugged her lush figure and brought out her incredible blue eyes, he knew with a man's certainty control was merely a hopeful thought taught by those who knew better.
“Not used to the word
no
?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm.
He narrowed his gaze. “Most people wouldn't dare.” The fact that she'd dared made him harder than he'd been in his long life. The urge to teach her the result of tempting his beast was one he'd satisfy. Without question.
“I would think most kings aren't. However, you are not my king, either by birth or fealty.” Her eyes flashed with too much challenge for him to ignore.
He cocked his head to the side. She knew exactly the temptation she presented.
What the hell was she doing? Emma fought the urge to take a step back, knowing she might as well be shaking a red flag in front a raging bull. She couldn't seem to help herself. “And I won't take orders from you.”
The smile he flashed her was not kind, even with the flirtatious dimple winking for just a second. It was knowing, wicked, carnal. “Oh love, you misunderstand. It wasn't the king demanding your obedience.” His muscles bunched like a predator before springing. “It was the man.”
“There's a difference?” The urge to run spiked through her blood.
“Absolutely. The king has rules.” He moved faster than she could track and hauled her off the ground, easily holding her an inch from his mouth. Her legs dangled uselessly as her hands reached to protest against his chest. “The man doesn't.”
His mouth plundered hers. Gone was the sweet kiss of seduction he'd used in the cave or the teasing exploration of his tongue from earlier in the evening. Masculine need, demanding and strong, surrounded her as he swept inside her mouth, taking what he wanted.
Her world spun, and her mind swam. A sharp longing spiraled through her body to pinpoint in one vulnerable spot. She had to get away from him. She kicked out, not connecting well enough to do any damage.
He lifted his head. “You promised me a night, Emma. I'm collecting now.”
She slapped both hands against his chest, jerking her head back. “That was in the cave. This is different.”
“Is it?” He raised an eyebrow. “I can smell your desire right now. You want me, and you want this.”
True. She might've been able to fight the desire rushing through her nerves, but the curiosity was something else entirely. Would it be as good as in her dreams? Would
he
be as good as in her dreams?
“Better.” He lowered her until her stilettos met the floor. “This first time I take you, love, I'd rather it not be in a living room.”
She took a step back, her body trembling with need. God, she wanted this. Just one night. She could enjoy one night without becoming too attached. Or giving him false hope of a future. “The same rules apply. No marking and stay the hell out of my head.”
He sighed. “As you wish.” Grasping her hand in his, he led her to the door—where they smacked into Conn. “What the ...”
Conn glanced from Dage to Emma and back again. “Er, sorry bro. Prophet Milner wishes to speak with you.”
Dage pushed his brother out of the way, tugging Emma down the hallway to the staircase. “Tell him no.”
She had to practically run to keep up with him until they landed safely inside a plush bedroom complete with an extra large bed covered in shimmering silk. Dage snapped the lock into place, its click echoing around the room.
Emma took a step away from him. What in the hell had she been thinking?
He took a step forward, reaching to release his cuff links, a dark flush across his cheeks, his eyes heated silver and trained on her. His cuff links slid out and he unfastened each button with sure hands, striding forward until he stood but a breath away. The shirt cascaded to pool on the plush carpet, revealing that wicked sharp tattoo and hard tanned muscle.
The scent of sandalwood and male whispered over her skin until her nerves tingled with need.
His heated hands encircled her biceps, and he gently turned her to face the shaded window. She shivered. The release of the corset's hidden zipper pierced the silence. The breath caught in her throat when he slid the material off her, his immortal body so big and strong behind her.
Gentle hands released the pins from her hair. Curls tumbled down to cover her shoulders.
Dage stepped in, winding one arm around her bare waist, pressing his heated chest to her bare back. Her body melted right into his, as if issuing one big sigh. His other hand swept her hair to the side, and his mouth descended to run along her shoulder. The moist warmth sent shivers through her body and she tilted her head to grant him greater access. His teeth scraped her jugular as he traveled so slowly up her neck to her jaw.
He flattened a hand against her bare midriff, just under the nipples all but crying for his attention. What was he doing to her? She couldn't move if someone firebombed the hotel.
The room spun when he turned her, his mouth dropping to hers, his tongue sliding in to explore. To taste. Tempt. Take.
Fire rushed through her. She stepped further into him, both hands tracing his abs up to his chest, appreciating the raw strength the king covered by diplomacy and design. She'd waited so long for him, to feel him. Just this once.
He clutched her hair, tilting her head so he could go deeper, a growl emitting from his throat that somehow caused liquid need to coat her thighs. Prickles of erotic pain cascaded across her scalp. She fumbled with his belt buckle, releasing a sigh of relief when it unclasped. Sliding the zipper down, she took him in her hand. Part of him, anyway. Hot. Hard. Male.
He released her mouth to concentrate on her skirt, releasing the side zipper until the material dropped to the floor. His eyes flared at her silk thong just before he snapped it in two. The tiny scrap of material joined the skirt.
Kicking off his pants, he lifted her in a move of such casual strength she had to fight a purr. He paused next to the bed. “Are you certain about the marking, love?” Desire and need swirled deep sky through those incredible eyes.
Temptation. To belong with him for all time. But the visions told the truth—the king might be destroyed by her if she didn't beat fate. “I'm sure.” Her voice waivered. She didn't sound sure. She needed to retain at least part of her sanity. It'd be too easy to get lost in the king's plans.
Regret filled his eyes for a moment before he lay her down, following her to take one nipple into his mouth. He rumbled a sound of pure contentment, then his clever fingers found her.
She almost shot off the bed. He inserted one finger, then two in her—criss-crossing until she clutched her hands in his thick hair, moving against him. “Dage, now.”
He chuckled against her skin, his mouth tracing a liquid path around each breast to kiss her nipples, her navel, and finally down to her core. His broad hands slid up her thighs to tug them apart and his mouth went to work.
She arched off the bed as he favored her with slow licks, humming in pure appreciation, the vibrations nearly sending her over the edge. Nothing could've kept her from glancing toward his dark head as he feasted. Deep silver eyes met her gaze, and with a lopsided grin, he closed his entire mouth over her clit. And sucked.
The world exploded. She cried out, pressing into his mouth, stars exploding behind her eyes. Her entire body short-circuited. The only thought in her head was his name. She rode out the waves and slowly lowered back to the bed. Her heart thundered so loud it echoed through her ears.
Dage maneuvered up until he hovered, poised at her entrance, his inhuman gaze piercing hers. Her thighs grasped his hips, pressing inward. More. She needed more.
His hand clasped her hip. “You're mine, Emma. The sooner you accept that the better.” Heat engulfed her mouth as his lips devoured her, and he drove inside her with a force that shook the bed. Maybe the room.
She locked her ankles around his truly suburb ass, one hand fisting in his hair, the other digging into his hip as he started to move, his mouth busy on hers.
Sensations ripped through her—the fire at her mouth, the heat at her core. She met him thrust for thrust, so many feelings crashing into her that her mind shut down. Raw hunger had her returning his kiss, sweeping inside his mouth to duel with his tongue. She
took
.
Spikes of fire whipped inside her, bearing down an orgasm that rippled through her entire body until her ears rang. She rode it out, clutching to Dage, all sanity gone. He caught her cry in his mouth, his fingers bruising her flesh as he growled his release against her skin.

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