Master of Darkness (14 page)

“I really don’t . . . ?”

“I’ll conjure a bed, and you can tie me to the frame.” She forced a smile despite the anxiety that clawed her at the thought. “Silk scarves and a big brass bed, right out here in the magic forest. We can be kinky in comfort.”

“No.” Justice’s hot gaze chilled. “I may be an Alpha werewolf, but I am not a sadist.”

The athame sounded a warning note—something about
‘dangerous territory’
—but she ignored it. “Tying somebody up doesn’t make you sadistic. Lots of people play bondage games.”

“Yeah, they do.
I
have.” He stepped away from her. Some part of her instantly missed his warmth. “But that’s not a game I’d play with somebody who’s fucking terrified.”

He jerked Merlin’s Blade out of its sheath and buried the battle-axe in the dirt with a solid
thunk
. The gesture shouted of temper barely under control. A burst of power and dominance rolled off him, so feral, so Alpha, she longed to duck her head and drop her eyes . . .

. . . Or run like hell.

Instead, Miranda lifted her chin and forced herself to meet his gaze, though his irises burned blue with Hunter Prince magic. “I have to beat this, Justice. If I don’t, it’s just like you said. I’ll never be anything but a victim. And I’m damned tired of being Warlock’s victim.”

“My torturing you is not going to solve the problem.” A muscle in his broad jaw flexed his teeth ground. “It would only make the spell stronger. Your fear would hit it like gasoline on a forest fire.”

“Justice, that’s exactly how they
fight
forest fires. Starve the flames of fuel by running a flamethrower across its path, and the fire dies.”

“Miranda, dammit . . .”

But she rushed on. “If you tie me up, it’s going to scare me. Yes, I know that. But if you make love to me anyway, the spell will lose its power as we burn out the fear. And that will make it easier to kill the spell altogether, once we figure out how.”

“Forget it.” Justice slashed a hand through the air in a savage gesture of negation. “I’m not a rapist, and I’m not going to become one so you can resolve your daddy issues.”

“Dammit, I’m not asking you to rape me. Merlin’s balls, I wouldn’t do that. I just want you to help me.” She spread her hands, pleading. “Do you think there’s another Alpha werewolf on the planet I’d trust to do this? No. But I trust you. No matter what this damned spell tries to tell me, the real Miranda knows the kind of man you are.”

“Yeah—the kind who won’t psychologically water-board the woman he loves.”

Miranda’s train of thought instantly derailed. She must have misheard. “Loves?”

“Yeah—loves.” He said the word like a challenge.

Her startled heart seemed to swell in her chest, joy inflating it like a balloon. “You love me?”
Me? Warlock’s damaged daughter?

“You think I’d have jumped between a dinosaur and just anybody?”

“Yeah, actually, I do. You wouldn’t stand by while
anyone
got chomped by a monster.”

Justice opened his mouth, closed it again, and shrugged sheepishly. “Okay, maybe. That doesn’t change the fact that I love you. I’ve been in love with you from the first time I saw you throw a fireball at that raging psychotic you call a father.”

Her chest ached with a sweet pain she’d never felt before.
Must be all that joy.
“I love you, William Justice.”

He opened his arms so she could walk into them. “I know. I heard you say so from the bottom of your rabbit hole.” Drawing her close, he rested his chin on top of her head. “Don’t make me do this, Bugs. I can’t stand the thought of hurting one hair on your cotton tail.”

Miranda sighed and surrendered. “It would have worked.”

“No. I never would have done it. Not as long as you’re so terrified.” Justice drew back to give her a satyr’s smile. “Now, if you ever decide you’ve got a yen involving a pair of fuzzy handcuffs and a carrot . . .”

“You’re a bad, bad boy, Elmer.”

He winced. “Oh, God. No. Do
not
call me Elmer.”

Miranda smirked. “If you insist, Foghorn.”

Justice cringed. “Oh, Christ.”

“What?” She batted her widened eyes, trying to fake innocence. “You’d prefer Deputy Dawg?”

“That’s just damned
not funny
.”

“Daffy?”

“I’m beginning to reconsider the water-boarding thing.”

“Porky?”

With a mock growl, he pounced on her, tumbling her backward. She conjured a mattress as they fell.

In its belt sheath, the athame trilled in delighted satisfaction. But deep within Miranda’s brain, the spell pulsed, malevolence worked into its every magical rune.

* * *

Justice twisted as
they fell, meaning to hit the ground on his back with Miranda in his arms, tucked safely against his chest.

Instead of smacking into hard dirt, they sank into eight inches of expensive mattress padding. Feeling slick fabric against his skin, he smiled at Miranda as she sprawled across him, all legs and arms and warm, sweet curves. “Silk sheets. You little perv.”

“I am
not
a perv.” She tilted her chin and sniffed with all the offended dignity of a Chosen aristocrat. “I just hate making love with sticks digging into my butt.” Miranda wrinkled her nose, looking cuter doing it than any grown woman should. “Not to mention ticks. Disgusting little bloodsuckers.”

“Actually, I can’t blame them for wanting a bite of you. You’re pretty tasty.” Justice rolled over with her—damn, the bed was the size of Lake Michigan—and braced his weight on his elbows. Savoring the soft femininity of her body, he kissed her slowly. She gave as good as she got, her lips angling back and forth over his mouth, her tongue circling and flicking his in an erotic duel.

With a deliciously sensual moan, Miranda wound slender arms around his neck and slid a long leg up to hook her calf across his ass. The position nestled her belly against his erect cock with just the perfect pressure.

His wolf growled. Its mental rumble seemed to vibrate his skull right down to the spine.

Don’t you dare start
, he told it savagely.
She’s not up to your shit right now.

Justice had been a werewolf for three years, more than long enough to come to terms with his hairy half. Yes, his first weeks as a Dire Wolf had been a little rough, but he had learned how to control all that animalistic strength and feral instinct. They’d gotten along fairly well ever since.

Unfortunately, that was then. This was AMB—After Merlin’s Blade. The battle-axe’s magic had turned the wolf he’d managed to tame—more or less—into the Wolf.

A monster straight out of a torture porn splatter flick.

The vicious creature had come so damned close to eating Miranda, Justice went cold to the bone every time he remembered it. He’d had no control of the Wolf whatsoever, no influence over it, no power to restrain its savagery. He’d been forced to watch in grinding fear as the great monster hunted Miranda, ignoring his roared mental orders to back off. If she’d been an instant slower, a tiny bit weaker, the barest fraction less smart, he’d have lost her.

And if the Wolf
had
killed her, Justice would have put a bullet in its brain—even though it was also his own. Maybe
because
it was also his own. He couldn’t have lived knowing he’d murdered the woman he loved.

Especially not like that.

Fortunately, Miranda was every bit as smart as she was lovely. When she’d dived down that rabbit hole of hers, she’d bought him the time he desperately needed to figure out how to get back in the driver’s seat.

And when she’d artlessly confessed her love—even as the Wolf tried to dig her out of her hole like a gopher—Justice discovered the raw mental strength to regain control. He was damned if the furry fucker was going to get another shot at her.

The Wolf snarled, yellow eyes shining in the depths of his brain. With a rising howl, the monster exploded to the surface in a skull-rattling burst of magic that damned near broke Justice’s hold.

Justice ground his teeth, fighting the Wolf’s attempt to force another Shift. His eyes flicked open. Miranda smiled up at him, her wicked gold gaze bright with love as she cradled his body in the loving grip of her arms and legs.

That was all the help he needed.

As the Wolf charged again, battering at him, Justice caught it in a net of raw will and
shoved
, stuffing the thing back in its mental cage, locking it in, slamming the foot-thick steel bar into the massive brackets that braced it across the door.

The Wolf raged, slamming into the two-inch bars so hard the cage shook. Shook, but held. Bright, hard, and unyielding.

Justice smiled coldly into the thing’s savage eyes.
Not this time, asshole
.

The Wolf snapped at him in frenzied rage, spittle flying, throwing its massive body against the door.
Slam slam slam!
The cage rocked like a sailboat in a hurricane.

But the bars held. And they would go on holding.

True, the cage was only a manifestation of Justice’s will. But so far, it was working. He’d keep the Wolf caged as long as he had to.

If that meant he had to fight his inner monster every waking minute until he found a way to take Warlock’s head . . . Well, fine. He’d do that. Then he’d figure out how to get rid of the Wolf.

Even if it meant becoming merely human again.

He didn’t have much choice. Controlling the Hunter Prince his axe had created took too much concentration and willpower. He didn’t know how long he could keep doing it.

Maeve would probably help disentangle him from Merlin’s spell; he figured he’d have earned it by then. The Sidhe goddess certainly had enough juice for the job.

As for becoming the powerless lover of a werewolf lit up with more magic than the Las Vegas skyline . . .

Well, one problem at a time.

He opened his eyes again to find Miranda kissing him slowly, her lips like warm velvet, her tongue quick and clever in his mouth. Her hips rolled against his, spread legs curled over his ass, holding him deliciously close. His erection had softened during the struggle with the Wolf, but it instantly hardened, lengthening clear to his waist.

Miranda did that to him.

“There you are,” she murmured, drawing back to search his face with far too much perception. “What’s going on, Justice? For a minute there, you were gone.
Something
looked out of your eyes, but it wasn’t you. And it scared the crap out of me.”

FOURTEEN

Justice knew he
was going to have to tell Miranda about the Wolf—she’d need the advance warning if it escaped again. He just didn’t want to tell her
now
. The trust growing between them was too fragile. She’d start being afraid of him again. “Not now,” Justice murmured. “Give me a little time.”

Her eyes narrowed. For a moment he thought she was going to force him to spill the whole ugly thing.

Instead Miranda nodded slowly. “It can wait.” A wicked smile broke across her face. “This can’t.” She rolled her torso, making him acutely aware of her body—those exquisite breasts, the legs that went on forever, the maddening scent of feminine desire . . .

“I need you, Justice.” Honesty was stark as a blade in those golden eyes, sharp enough to take his breath. “I need your body. I need your strength. I need your love.”

“You’ve got them.” His voice sounded hoarse. “I love you, Miranda. Everything I am, everything I have—it’s all yours.”

Miranda grinned, wickedly sexy. “Glad to hear it.” She caught the hem of his polo shirt in both Direkind hands and jerked. The tough material ripped like a wet paper towel. “Because I’ve got plans for you, Fudd.”

He laughed, enjoying the creamy heat that streamed into his blood. “Oh, Bugs—you do like to live dangerously.” Her shirt had even less chance against his hands.

Laughing like loons, they went after each other’s clothes, as gleefully ruthless as kids tearing into Christmas gifts. Shoes sailed off into the bushes. Slacks, boxers, her lacy black bra and its matching panties, even their socks—every stitch yielded to Dire Wolf strength, filling the air with ripping sounds and a confetti drift of shredded fabric.

They spared nothing but the sheaths of their weapons. Those they unbuckled and put carefully down beside the bed.

You didn’t throw Merlin’s Blade into the bushes.

Finally they were both naked . . . and just a little out of breath from laughter and wrestling. “What the hell.” Justice settled down on top of her again. “We can always conjure more clothes.” He flashed a grin. “Though quite frankly, I like the view just as it is.”

“And you call
me
a perv.” She stretched luxuriously beneath him, as if savoring the cool texture of silk against her back—and the warmth of his flesh against her chest. Her nipples had drawn into delicious pink buds riding the soft, full curves of her breasts. So impossibly sweet, so deliciously tempting.

She reminded him of some Celtic fairy, her skin creamy and perfect over lean, elegant muscle and delicate bone. Long runner’s legs and slim, strong arms, wrapping around him, holding him close.

Her hair spilled over the bed’s pale cream silk in flaming curls streaked with shades of gold and copper. The soft delta between her thighs was every bit as fiery.

The woman of his dreams.

Now if only I can keep the Big Bad Wolf from eating her . . .

He cut the thought off and bent his head to one peaked, rosy nipple. It tasted deliciously of clean forest air and woman and Dire Wolf musk. Closing his eyes, he licked and nibbled and sucked. And made himself forget everything but her.

* * *

Pleasure rolled through
Miranda like shimmering streams of magic cast by every flick of Justice’s tongue, every nibble, every strong, suckling pull of his mouth. Sliding her hands into the curling silk of his hair, she arched her back and sighed, surrendering to his erotic spell.

He felt so damned good against her. Hard, warm, a little furry here and there. Everything she’d ever dreamed of as a lonely young girl awaiting whatever demon wolf Warlock sent to breed her.

But as sweet as it was letting Justice make love to her, Miranda ached to explore. “I want to touch you.”

Justice lifted his head, black eyes flicking up to meet hers over the curve of her breast. “You are touching me.” He grinned like a devil. “And you’re doing a damned good job of it, too.”

“Glad you approve.” She tightened the grip of her thighs around his waist and twisted with agile Dire Wolf strength, flipping him onto his back and landing neatly astride his hips. “But this time,
I
want to be on top.”

Sable eyebrows rose. “I see that.” One corner of his lip quirked, and he folded his arms beneath his head. “I’m all yours.”

“Yes.” Miranda grinned down at him in pure anticipation. “You certainly are.” She nibbled her lower lip, considering all the gorgeous masculinity sprawled beneath her. His shoulders looked very broad against the cream silk sheets, brawny biceps bulging like grapefruit in his bent arms. Muscle lay in clear relief beneath the warm tan velvet of his skin and a soft cloud of curling chest hair. Small brown nipples peeked at her, and she wondered if they were as sensitive as her own.

She touched one, and he caught his breath. Miranda grinned in delight at the sudden sense of power she felt.

Not that power was a stranger, of course. She couldn’t even remember a time when magic didn’t leap to her will. What she hadn’t felt was the purely feminine power of making a man respond to her touch. Especially not this man, this lethal wolf warrior.

Now,
that
was power.

Staring into the rich chocolate of his eyes, Miranda stroked her thumb back and forth over one of his hard little nipples. “You like that?”

“You have to ask?” Twin fireworks of magic flared bright across his ebony irises. From the corner of one eye, Miranda saw Merlin’s Blade begin to glow, the huge blue gem in its haft spilling a neon wash of light.

But at the moment, the only shaft that interested her was his cock. It lay deliciously trapped beneath her, its width pressing between her inner lips, flushed mushroom cap pinned to his hard belly. A bright bead clung to its tip like a gem.

Miranda reached down and collected the pearl of liquid with a flick of her forefinger. Feeling wicked, she met his gaze and slid her fingertip into her mouth, sucking the salty little drop away. “Mmmmm. Distilled Justice.”

He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his muscular neck. “Anytime you want to taste anything else of mine, I can make a few suggestions.”

“I believe my imagination’s up to the challenge.” God, had that purr come out of her? Miranda Drake, the repressed, emotionally scarred daughter of a psychotic sorcerer?

Fuck Warlock. This is for me. For us.

She stretched out on top of him, sliding down his body, savoring the hard pressure of the thick erection pressing against her belly. Taking her time, Miranda kissed him, drinking in the taste of his mouth, her tongue exploring the velvet warmth of his lips and the slick points of canines gone wolf-sharp; he was on the verge of Shifting.

Justice started to lower his arms from their folded position under his head. She gave him a mock glare. “Hands behind your head, cop, or I’ll have to use the cuffs.”

His brows winged up. “Oh, we are in a kinky mood.”

“You heard me. Hands behind your head.”

“Yes, mistress.” A chuckle vibrating his chest, he obeyed.

“Good dog.” Miranda went back to kissing him, slowly, thoroughly. Savoring the contrast between his soft mouth and his hard body.
He’s like a hero out of one of those books I wasn’t supposed to read.

Curious, she started exploring, stroking her fingers along the contours of brawn, up ridges of tendon, through the soft tufts beneath his raised arms.

To her delight, he squirmed at the gentle brush of her nails. “Why, Justice—are you ticklish?”

Black eyes narrowed. “Are
you
?”

“Bad puppy.” She gently raked her fingernails across both armpits. “No threatening Mistress Miranda.”

He jerked in reaction and glowered. “Mistress Miranda is going to get a spanking if she tickles me one more time.”

“You and what army, Fudd?” Grinning, Miranda ran her nails down his ribs, just hard enough to make him buck.

“I don’t need an army.” Fireworks detonated in his eyes like the Fourth of July. Not a little Dire Wolf burst, either. It was pure Hunter Prince, more howitzer than bottle rocket. Savagery followed, flooding his ebony eyes with feral animal rage.

Miranda froze, ice sheeting over her skin. Her father’s spell choked her, cramming her throat with a knot of terror.

Justice blinked, and the ferocity vanished, replaced by stricken pain. “Miranda . . . God, I didn’t mean . . .”

“Shhhh.” She covered his mouth with a kiss, concentrating desperately on the taste of him, on the feel of his mouth as he kissed her back. An aching apology delivered with his lips. “It’s all right.”

Miranda focused on the hard, warm reality of his body, until the last of her fear drained and passion began to rise again.

“I love you,” Justice whispered against her mouth. “God, I love you.”

“You do realize you’re giving me psychic whiplash?” She lifted her head just enough to smile down into his worried gaze. “From abject terror to giddy delight in 8.2 seconds.”

He winced. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You love me. I love you. That’s all that’s important. Not Warlock. Not the Hunter Prince. Not fairies or talking dogs or prophecies. None of it matters—except this.” She kissed him again, slow and deep and passionate.

When she finally lifted her head again, Miranda found determination in his narrowed eyes. “I’m not going to let my Wolf hurt you again, Miranda. Ever.”

He means it.
Muscles relaxed between her shoulders, and she sank against his mouth for another slow, deep kiss.
And Justice always keeps his promises.

His softened cock hardened beneath her, pressing against her belly, hard as the haft of his axe and damned near as long.

* * *

Which gave her
a delicious idea . . .

Miranda’s kisses heated his blood, chasing away the chill the Wolf had left behind. Marking its vicious territory in his brain like the stink of urine.

But he’d locked his monster away again, clanged the cage door shut, left it to glare out at him in frustrated hate.

And a hearty “fuck you” to you, too, ass-sniffer. She’s
mine
. I’m not going to let you scare her again—much less anything else.

Then Miranda began kissing her way down his face to his throat, and he forgot all about his Wolf. Swirling her tongue over his throbbing pulse, she nibbled the tendons with gentle little nips.

Justice started to reach for her, but she shot him a narrow golden look. “I told you where I wanted your hands, Fudd.”

“Okay, okay!” Lips twitching, he slid his palms under his head again.

With a satisfied sniff, Miranda began working her way down his body, leaving a trail of kisses and tiny bites and teasing little flicks of her tongue. She explored each rise and valley of bone and muscle, stroking him with silken fingertips until his nerves quivered like plucked harp strings.

Pausing over one small brown nipple, she demonstrated she had indeed been paying attention to everything he’d ever done to hers.

He’d never considered his male nips erogenous zones, but Miranda proved him wrong. Every flick of her pointed pink tongue, every rake of her teeth over those tiny points, every stroke and pinch sent darts of pleasure straight to his balls.

By the time she moved on to her next target, his mouth was dry and his cock lay across his belly like a lead pipe.

Miranda headed straight for it, drawing delicious little patterns on his skin with tiny licks and soft caresses, lighting up his nervous system like Christmas lights.

As she approached his cock, Justice tensed, his back unconsciously arching as he imagined her wet mouth closing over his cock, suckling hard, velvet lips tight around the sensitive shaft.

Almost there . . .

She stopped just before she reached his violently flushed glans, pausing to swirl lazy circles around his navel. His erection bucked as if to remind her it was waiting.

Miranda ignored it completely. She was far too busy playing erotic, maddening games with her mouth.

Good God, she’s tongue-fucking my navel
 . . .

Beneath his neck, his hands curled into fists as he fought the impulse to grab the back of her head and pull her down where he wanted her.
I am not a barbarian.

But dammit, she was pushing it. Hard.

“Mirrrrandaaaa . . .” The growl that vibrated his chest could have come from his Wolf.

Miranda slanted him a teasing glance, not intimidated in the least. “Yes?” She caught the skin around his navel between her teeth and nibbled.

Justice imagined her giving the same treatment to a far more sensitive body part. He almost whimpered.

Her lips curled into a smile that was more cat than wolf. “Is there something you wanted to say?”

Suck my cock!
Somehow he swallowed that less-than-chivalrous demand. “You do have a talent for teasing.” The words emerged wrapped in a deep, hungry rumble. “You might want to remember that I do too.”

“Threats, Fudd?” She danced her fingertips over his belly, a fraction of an inch from his bobbing, violently flushed cock. “You sure you want to go there?”

“You’re just begging for that spanking, Bugs.”

“More threats.” Smiling wickedly, Miranda reached out to run a slow fingernail along a vein that ran the length of his heavy erection. The bowed shaft danced under her touch. Justice gasped. She wrapped long, graceful fingers around his cock and tilted her head, contemplated its glans, once again pearled with arousal. “Not very smart, particularly considering what I’m planning to do to this big, juicy carrot of yours.”

Justice managed a strangled laugh. “Consider me your personal vegetable patch, Bugs. Carrots. Cucumbers. . . .” He swallowed as she angled the thick organ toward her mouth. “Zucchini.”

“Mmmmm. I have this urge to ask, ‘Ehhhh . . . What’s up, Doc?’” She lowered her head until her lips were a breath from his cock. “But that’s kinda obvious.”

“Yeah, I’d have to say I’m definitely up.” He licked his dry lips. “In fact, I don’t believe I can
get
any more ‘up.’”

“Ya think?” Miranda smirked. “Let’s find out.” And in one breathtaking rush, she engulfed him in the snug, wet heat of her mouth.