FUR FOR ALL, Book 5 in FIXED (15 page)

“I know what it is. It’s the agreement under which all Others and magic users have agreed to keep their silence to avoid being recognized by human society at large.”

Rafe nodded and popped a pretzel nugget into his mouth. “Right. It’s been operating well for nearly fifteen hundred years now. But there are rumors starting to float around that it might not survive another fifteen months. Some groups are even advocating that it be done away with entirely so that the witches and the Others can begin to take a…more prominent role in world affairs.”

“You mean there are a few crazy Others out there who want to take over the world.”

“Pretty much.”

“Okay, I get that.” She nabbed a pretzel and crunched into it. “I mean, I don’t
get
it, but I get it. But what I mean is, why now? And why is the idea such a bad one?” She cut him off when he started to answer. “I can guess that the idea of werewolves being your kid’s gym teacher and vampires and witches moving into the neighborhood might upset some humans, but aren’t they going to have to find out eventually? Fifteen hundred years is a damned long time to keep a secret. By now shouldn’t there be enough witches and Others in prominent positions in society to cushion the blow somewhat?” 118

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Rafe nodded. “There nearly are. More than a few people, myself included, believe that the time when humans are going to have to learn about us is not very far off. Whether we like it or not, we can’t hide forever, but the preparations that have begun just aren’t done yet. We need another year or two to hedge as many bets as we can. And that’s why the Accord is so damned important right now. Without it, we’ll lose control of our own revelation. And that could backfire on us. Badly.”

“I’m not sure the Witches’ Council feels any differently.” Tess tucked her feet up in the chair under her and frowned. “From what I gathered from Granddad, they’ve foreseen the same thing. He mentioned that some of the seers on the council believe that time is coming very soon. Maybe even sooner than you do.” Rafe drained the last of his milk and licked the stray drops from the corners of his mouth. “Then we should have a very smooth meeting when I appear before them next week.”

She studied his expression. “But you don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

“Because something weird is already going on. People are beginning to believe in things they would have dismissed as their imagination even five years ago. A Fae friend of mine said that his wife’s newspaper got nine thousand calls in a ten-hour period this summer, all people reporting having seen a leprechaun.

The
Times
recently ran an article on Manhattan’s best spots for ‘vampire and wolfman sightings.’ Those are all signs that humanity might be closer to the veil than we think, and that they may even be developing the ability to see through it.”

“Even I can’t see through it, and I’m a witch.” Rafe raised an eyebrow. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re the least magic-using witch I’ve ever met.”

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She made a face at him. “How many witches have you met?”

“Well…one. If I count you.”

“So how would you know how much magic I should or shouldn’t be using?” He shrugged and grinned. “I guess I wouldn’t, right?”

“Right. Mr. Smartypants.” She tossed a pretzel at his head and laughed when he caught it in his mouth. “That’s the problem with cowans. They all think—”

“Cowans?”

“Non-witches,” she clarified. “They all think we walk around waving our magic wands or wrinkling up our noses every time we want to fill the tea kettle.

But magic isn’t like that. It’s not about making life more convenient for us. It’s about exploring the mysteries and serving the greater good. Or at least, it should be.”

“Does that mean you won’t clean my apartment by making the broom dance across the floor?”

“Hire a cleaning service. Though I’m sure you already have one.” She shook her head. “Yeah, I probably could pull a
Fantasia
if I wanted to, but I’d be abusing the magic, instead of using as it was intended to be used. Not that I’m not occasionally tempted to put a hex on someone…”

“No boils,” he insisted, shuddering. “You can turn me into a toad if you want, but no boils. Skin conditions creep me out.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“So if you don’t use your magic to do your dishes or to make all the traffic lights turn for you, what do you use it for?” Tess shrugged. “I suppose it depends on what sort of magic you have. It’s not all the same, you know. Some witches couldn’t do a hex if their lives depended on it, and some could turn your private parts twelve shades of green 120

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without breaking a sweat. Granddad is a spell caster. If someone has written it down, he can cast it. He’s amazing.”

Rafe stood, scooping Tess up in his arms and taking her chair, then settling her down into his lap. “What sort of magic do you have?” She grimaced. “Not much, if you ask most people.”

“I asked you.”

She never had been able to explain it worth a darn, which might have been one of the reasons why her grandfather never understood it or appreciated it, but she took a stab at it. “I see things, usually stuff that’s about to happen,” she said.

“Not like a real seer does. I don’t have visions, or anything. Sometimes I just know the way things are going to work, almost like it’s been blocked out for a play or something, and I’ve already rehearsed it. And I don’t see it ahead of time like a seer, either. It’s usually just a few seconds, like fast-forward déjà vu.” She made a face. “It’s not really all that impressive.” His gaze on her was intent and inscrutable. “Oh, I don’t know. I think it’s fascinating.” Then he grinned and she braced herself against the charm of that look. “But lets try a little experiment.”

“It almost never works on command.” She tried to push aside the twinge of disappointment she felt that he’d dismissed her so easily. Not that she could blame him, really. Most witches found her meager talents just as uninteresting.

“Humor me.”

He rose abruptly to his feet, carrying her with him, lifting her high against his chest. She gasped in surprise. “Where are we going?” His grin curved like a pirate’s and a chuckle purred out of his chest. “You tell me,” he said, darting forward to nibble her earlobe. “Then tell me what’s going to happen once we get there, because I believe it will only be a few seconds before it does.”

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Tess laughed and shook her head, her disappointment not standing a chance against the feeling of arousal that the look in his eyes ignited inside her. “Please.

You could at least make it challenging.”

He carried her through the bedroom door with a low growl. “It would be my pleasure.”

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Chapter Fourteen

His pleasure also apparently involved licking every square inch of her body with that rough sandpaper-velvet tongue.

He laid her on the bed as if it were an altar, leaving her towel piled on the floor halfway across the room. His eyes glinted in the darkness while his hands skimmed her flesh, not so much touching her as waking her up to his touch.

Where his hands went, they left her skin aching and sensitive until she wondered if maybe he was the one with the magic.

“Keep still,” he purred. “That should be challenging enough for you.” Tess shivered when he moved away, the loss of his radiant heat chilling her.

She stayed where he had placed her while he moved to either side of the bed, lighting the lamps that sat there to dim golden glows. The light made his skin glow almost copper in places, and shadowed it in deep, aged bronze in others.

All planes and angles, he was gorgeous in her eyes, the perfect figure of a man.

She shivered again, this time in anticipation.

“If you don’t hurry, I’ll be really still.” Her voiced sounded husky in her own ears. “As in asleep.”

He chuckled and rounded the end of the bed, climbing onto it and prowling toward her on all fours, looking a lot like he had earlier that evening, when he’d sported three-inch fangs and a thick, plush layer of fur. “Oh, I don’t think so, sweet Tess. I think you’ll be wide awake for as long as I want.” She wondered if her own eyes could flare as brightly as his, or if that was just a Feline thing. “Really? I guess that’s up to you, then. If you give me a reason to stay awake…”

“I’ll give you plenty.”

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That’s when he set his tongue to the skin inside the arch of her foot and licked.

Tess moaned.

She’d heard of foot fetishes, of course, but she’d never really taken them seriously. After all, how sexy could a foot possibly be? For heaven’s sake, she spent most of her time walking on them. Aside from providing a means of locomotion to get her to a chosen partner, what the heck could they possibly have to do with sex?

Under the stroke of Rafe’s tongue, they had everything to do with it. They felt like satellite sex organs, each flick and rub and nibble sending pleasure shooting directly from her feet to her pussy. He bit delicately in the middle of the arch, and she got wet. He scraped his teeth across her sole, and she quivered. He licked the base of her toes and she could feel her clit throbbing in response. The man had more magic in the tip of his tongue than she had in her entire, aroused, aching, needy body.

“Reason number one, sweet Tess.” His growl had the same rough-smooth texture as his tongue and drove her almost as crazy. “Shall we move on to number two?”

She whimpered in reply, then stuffed her fist into her mouth to stifle any more embarrassing and revealing sounds.

“Ah-ah,” he chided, dragging her hand slowly back to the mattress. “I said stay still. And I want to hear those noises. They’re part of the fun.”

“I’ll give you more than noise in just a minute if you don’t—” Her useless threat strangled in her throat when he closed his teeth around the back of her ankle and began nibbling his way north. “Ah!” He chuckled and massaged her calf with long, thorough strokes of his tongue.

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Tess lay back on the bed and tried to think of England, but all she could really think about was the shift and slide of his mouth up toward her knees. His teeth and lips and tongue all conspired to cause her downfall. What else could she think when he found a particularly sensitive spot at the back of her right knee and proceeded to exploit it with nibbles and scrapes and sweet hot suction until she actually cried out. From having her
knees nibbled
!

“Rafe! Stop it! Just stop!” Her breath was coming fast now, and she sounded panting and eager. Probably because she was both. “Stop teasing me and get up here.”

He shook his head, his thick, dark hair caressing her thighs as he laved his way around her knee to her inner thigh. “Can’t. Busy.”

“Argh! Busy my ass!”

He lifted his head, grinned at her and shook his head again. “Not yet. I’ve got other things to do first.”

Then he lowered his head, and she felt his tongue glide in one, long drag from her knee across her thigh to her waiting slit.

He might as well have killed her.

She cried out like a murder victim, a long, high wail that begged for mercy.

He showed her none. His tongue slid between her swollen folds, seeking out her core and drinking from her like she was a fountain of cream. She could feel the vibrations of his rough purr traveling from her pussy to her very heart. She groaned in response and whimpered when he dipped inside, tongue penetrating and thrusting into her in a breathtakingly intimate kiss.

Orders be damned. She buried her hands in his hair, desperate to have something to hold onto while her world spun dangerously out of control. She couldn’t even feel the mattress beneath her. All she could feel was Rafe’s mouth and teeth and tongue and hands and breath and
purr
wreaking havoc inside her.

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“Please! Rafe, please. I need—” She arched into a bow as his tongue curled around her clit and tugged with agile precision. “God, I need you! Please—”

“I am pleasing you,” he murmured, shifting a hand between her thighs.

“And you’re going to come for me. Now.”

He thrust two fingers high and deep inside her and she had no choice but to obey. “More,” he growled.

She rained down on him like April, flooding his hand with cream and his ears with a torrent of gasping cries. She screamed his name. She screamed to God. She screamed for mercy. But mostly she screamed for more. He gave it to her.

More
.

Eyes feasting on her, Rafe gave her another finger and watched a new wave of convulsions seize her. He could feel her pussy clenched around his fingers like a fist, then the tense and release of her climax. Her moisture slicked his palm. He bent his head to lap it up, thick as cream, sweet as honey and rich as her scent.

He couldn’t get enough.

More
.

He ignored the cries for mercy, the way her ragged breath soughed in and out of her lungs. He could hear her exhaustion, and he didn’t care. He wanted more. Leaning down, he drew her clit into his mouth and suckled it like a nipple.

Her pussy clenched around his fingers again, a new wave driving her back into climax before she’d barely begun to descend.

More
.

Her fingers knotted in his hair and jerked painfully. Rafe ignored them. He ignored the burning in his scalp and the ringing cries in his ears. He ignored the 126

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bite of her nails into his shoulder when one hand clutched at him, frantic and grasping. He just bit down on her clit and drove her over another peak.

More
.

She began to cry, gasping sobs shaking her as tears tracked down her cheeks to the sheets beneath her head. He saw it and he knew he should ease off on her, but he couldn’t. His instincts rode him hard, ignoring the reason of the man in favor of the hunger of the beast. The beast wanted him to mark her, mark her and keep her forever, permanently hot and wet and aching for him. He flexed his fingers and touched her deeper.