Guilty as Sin (18 page)

tight they
‟
d almost crawled inside his body. But she found them, his Aetherii, that

diabolical tail tip stroking and caressing, increasing the wonderful, awful pressure until

his vision went gray at the edges. The shudders came and went, over and over, bone-

deep and delicious.

89

He hadn
‟
t felt so downright vulnerable since he was a lad. Fuck, the thrill was

incredible, but in his belly the first tendrils of unease quivered to life. Feathers tickled

the sensitive strip of flesh between anus and scrotum, long plumes brushed over his

flanks, his ass.

Nothing had gone the way he
‟
d planned. Twister,
nothing!

He was on the brink already, three strokes left, four if he was lucky. Climax roared,

fierce and hot as dragon
‟
s breath.

His head spinning, Michael straightened, groaning as the motion jammed him up

against the wicked scrape of feathers. Slipping a hand between their bellies, he tunneled

his fingers through the soft down on her pubis. If he hadn
‟
t been so preoccupied—so

bloody desperate—he would have shaken his head in wonder.
Feathers
. Gods!

Under his thumb, her clitoris was prominent and slippery. The moment he touched

it, Lise stiffened and cried out, high and formless, the way all women did in extremis.

Thank all the gods.

“C
‟
mon,” he muttered, hips rocking. Three strokes. Two. “
C’mon!
”

With one arm, he hauled her hard against him and slid his palm down to the base

of her tail.

Liseriel the Gray came like an avalanche, screaming her pleasure into the place

where Michael
‟
s neck met his shoulder. Vaguely, he was aware of the piquant pain of a

bite. Every muscle in her abdomen and pelvis went rigid, clamping her passage around

his length, hot and hard and narrow.

His buttocks clenching in sheer relief, Michael let go, groaning. His seed boiled out

of him in an ecstatic rush, spurt after spurt, while he gasped and rutted and stars

wheeled behind his eyelids.

When he regained his senses, Lise still lay quietly in his arms, but she
‟
d removed

her tail. He missed it. Against his chest, he could feel the strange double thud of two

Aetherii hearts. Slowly, the silence of the sleeping house leaked into the office and

spread, the only sound the whisper of their quick breaths.

Michael drew back enough to look into her face. Her expression was tranquil

enough, but her gaze was shuttered, unreadable.

He sighed. “Thank you,” he said, meaning it. “That was…good.” Pressing a kiss to

an ivory cheek, he disengaged himself as gently as possible.

“Yes.” She used a fold of the nightshirt to mop between her thighs, her head down.

“You don
‟
t hold anything back, do you?”

He very nearly laughed aloud.
Only everything.
“I didn
‟
t hurt you, did I?”

Her smile was no more than the most perfunctory curve of the lips. “Of course not.

You?”

He ran his fingers over the bruise on his shoulder as he shrugged back into his shirt.

A delicate flush ran up under her clear skin. “No blood. I
‟
m fine.” Arching a brow, he

murmured, “Naked, huh?”

90

“No wings, no tail,” she said composedly, fastening the two lonely buttons

remaining on her nightshirt. “To an Aetherii, you
‟
re naked.
Different
.”

Michael tucked himself away and laced up his trews. “Nothing I can do about that.”

With another woman, he
‟
d coax her back to bed for a second round, but Liseriel the

Gray didn
‟
t look as if she
‟
d heard of such a thing. Anyway, he didn
‟
t have time. “I
‟
m a

Grounded.”

And obviously twice the man any Aetherii was. He
‟
d have to give Dax some

pointers, possibly hands-on assistance. Game to the last, his cock pulsed with weary

enthusiasm, but he forced the vision away before he did himself damage.

“Here. Let me help you tidy up.”

Lise slid off the desk and stared at the snowdrift of papers on the floor, the dark,

spreading stain that pooled around the ink block. “Just put them in a pile. I
‟
ll sort them

after my bath.”

Responsibilities and regrets gathered around her in an almost perceptible cloud.

Inevitable, he supposed, but a pity nonetheless.

“You have your own bathouse?” As he bent to grab a file, he became conscious of

the ache in his lower back, the weakness still simmering in his thighs. A long, hot soak

sounded delightful. A wet, naked Lise, all pale and perfect and feathered, would be a

scenic bonus.

“The Winged Envoy had a special chamber put in.” She knelt to gather papers,

using her tail for the task as well as her hands. Would he ever become accustomed to it?

“Bathing and grooming are very important in Aetherii culture.”

Michael swung around to give her his back while he flipped through the folder he

held. “The Grounded bathe.”

“Some of them.” With a sigh, Lise rose, offering him a single sheet of paper. “A

physical description of Veryl,” she said. “Memorize it before you go.”

Dismissed like a filthy rag picker. Paper crackled as he clenched his fists.

Michael shot her his best rakish grin. “What? And here I thought you were all set to

scrub my back.”

She thumped another set of files on the desk. “Well, you thought wrong.”

She regretted her roll with rough trade already. He glanced down to hide the fury

in his eyes. There was a sketch, not a bad one, of a sulky, handsome face with a full

mouth. The bastard had curls, for the Twister
‟
s sake. Reading was always an effort—

he
‟
d come to it late—but this list was easy enough. He ran his eye over it—hair, blond;

eyes, pale blue; complexion, fair; height, five feet ten inches; build, solid; no

distinguishing marks.

“Finished?” Lise held out a hand.

Michael stepped past her to slap the page down on the desk. Petty, but he felt better

for it. “Absolutely.”

91

He stalked to the door and stopped, pulling in a calming breath. No, he was good,

he was the best. Lise might think him naked, but he wasn
‟
t, was he? Michael of Sere

was a man of masks, a master of disguise.

He managed a creditable enough smile. “Thank you again.” A wicked twinkle. “For

everything.”

He ramped the twinkle up to a roguish grin. “Don
‟
t forget our bet, will you?”

Reaching behind him, he eased the door open. “Because I won
‟
t.”

“Wait!”

Twister, he was good. “Yes?”

Lise sent him a long, unsettling stare. “I expect you to leave Dax alone now, you

hear?”

Michael couldn
‟
t recall the last time he
‟
d been rendered speechless. Caught half-in,

half-out of the door, he blinked. Any second she
‟
d wag a finger at him, and when she

did, he
‟
d…he
‟
d bite it off.

Enunciating every word between clenched teeth, he said, “Are you trying to tell me

you were the virgin sacrifice? Don
‟
t be ridiculous.”

She colored, but she stood her ground, hands on hips, great gray wings mantled

behind her and her tail whipping with agitation. Bare-legged beneath the tattered

nightshirt, her hair falling in a tangle, she should have looked foolish. Instead, she was

magnificent, every inch a raptor.

“You
‟
ve had your Aetherii,” she said. “Scratched the itch. I understand that.”

“So, I
‟
m a featherslut and you felt nothing? That
‟
s
vranshit
.” The urge to wound, to

flay her with words, was as fierce as his arousal had been. He could taste the flavors of

hurt and fury on his tongue, filling the mouth, bitter and yet oh so sweet.

Her chin went up. “We were both tense. The release was good.” Her throat moved

as she swallowed. “You…know what you
‟
re doing.”

Michael gave an ironic bow. “Thank you. I
‟
m flattered—I think.”

“But it means nothing, not really.” Furling her wings, she took a pace forward. “If it

makes you feel better, you
‟
re a fine lover. I don
‟
t need to tell you that.”

Pulling in a steadying breath, she locked her gaze on his. An odd little smile

quirked her lips. “You
‟
re not as bad as you think you are, Michael of Sere.” She laid a

hand on his arm. “Give me your word. Stay out of his life.”

Gods give him strength. One fuck and she thought he
‟
d roll over and expose his

belly like a well-trained dog. What was it about the law-abiding that made them so

stupid? Did she have any idea of the depth of insult? Of the way she
‟
d challenged his

pride?

“Are you serious?” he asked.

Her grip tightened then released. “You
‟
d ruin him,” she whispered.

92

Interesting. Lise had seen it too, that special quality of Dax
‟
s, but while she wanted

to protect and mollycoddle, Michael intended not only to defile but to wallow in the

wicked pleasure of it. He suppressed a hungry growl. Twister, it would do the big

lummox good, wake him up. Godsdammit, a public service. Which made him a man of

honor, surely?

He said it with a straight face. “I have my own kind of honor.” The Twister wasn
‟
t

known as the Great Liar for nothing.

Lise released him. “Exactly!” she said. Her eyes narrowed. “Swear by all the gods

you hold dear. That should cover every eventuality.”

“Fine.” Michael shrugged. “I swear by all the gods I hold dear.” What the fuck,

there were no gods.

“Not good enough.” Lise stepped up close. “Look me in the eye and say the whole

thing.”

Ah well, as they said at the Ten Nations Fair, there was one born every minute.

“I swear by all the gods I hold dear,” he said, “that I, ah, won
‟
t fuck Daxariel the

Burnished or…let
‟
s see…make him become unduly attached to me. Fair enough?”

She regarded him doubtfully for a moment while he held her eye, trying to look like

a man who
‟
d been driven to the wall and finally given in to honesty.

“All right,” she said at last. “I trust you.”

Not all the self-control in the world could prevent him from saying, “I wouldn
‟
t.”

Lise
‟
s lip curled. “Give me some credit. Only in this one thing, Michael. Everything

else is off limits.” She turned back to the desk. “Good night.”

“I like off limits.” Michael spun her around and took her mouth like a marauder,

hard and hot and deep. For a few delightful moments, she melted against him, her head