Two
Restless and edgy, Victoria twirled the sapphire and diamond necklace she’d stolen from the museum around her finger, and wondered if she had finally pushed the High Council too far. A little research into Max Westin had revealed that his usual prey was not their kind, but the Others, those who had crossed over into black magic and could not be saved. He was credited with saving thousands by destroying the few who would wreak havoc with their evil.
The knowledge filled her with concern. Was she now an Other? Considering that Max was rarely sent after anything the Council didn’t want dead, it would seem she was. He was a legend, a hero, and on the verge of promotion to the Council. She would have known this had she been an active member of their community instead of an outcast. Which left her with a question she’d spent years trying to answer—was her end goal to die? Did she in truth have a death wish now that Darius was gone? She was strong enough to fight off the collar, but she wasn’t strong enough to fight off a warlock of Max’s considerable power. And yet she had deliberately goaded his pursuit.
Troubled by the direction of her thoughts, she did what she always did—turned her focus to action, rather than reaction. Since she could not go toe-to-toe with Max and win, she would have to get to him another way.
She would have to seduce him, make him care for her. It was fitting that doing so would be a cruel blow to the Council. It would, in fact, be the ultimate revenge. The Council so rarely promoted anyone. In fact, the last to be so honored had been Darius, and he had refused Them because it would have meant losing her. Rejecting the safety of distant command, he had remained a foot soldier and They had punished him with the most brutal assignments. Leading to his death. The Council would regret that, she would ensure it.
She couldn’t wait to get started.
Damn Max Westin for being so stubborn! If he’d come to dinner like she wanted, she could be rubbing against that beautiful male body now. She could be licking his skin, nipping his flesh, f*cking his brains out.
Avenging her beloved Darius the only way she knew how.
Max was the perfect Hunter with which to goad the Council. Victoria could picture him easily, tied to her bed and prone for her pleasure. All that rippling muscle and voluptuous power. The Council’s golden warlock snared by his own trap.
She blew out her breath, the sudden pang of guilt too disturbing to contemplate. Standing, Victoria loosened the buttons of her sleeveless satin pajama top. She prepared to alter to her feline form when the sound of the doorbell stopped her. Padding leisurely across the golden hardwood floor, she sniffed the air.
Max.
Unexpected pleasure warmed her blood.
Opening the door, she was rendered speechless for a moment. In Armani, Max Westin had been devastating. Now, dressed in low-slung jeans and a fitted t-shirt, his feet bared in leather sandals, he was . . . He was . . .
She purred, the soft vibration filling the air between them with lush promise.
Sneaky bastard. He knew her natural instinct at the sight of his bare feet would be to alter form and rub against them, circling his legs in a blatant display of her willingness. Fighting her very nature, Victoria lifted her arm and leaned against the door jam. Her shirt spread with the pose, revealing her tummy and the under curve of her breast. He shot a brief assessing glance at her display, and then brushed her aside, entering her home like he had every right to do so.
As he crossed to the kitchen with a paper grocery bag in his arms, the candles she had spread around the room flared to life in his wake. The stereo came on, releasing a cacophony of garbled reception before coming to a halt on a classical station. The rich sounds of stringed instruments flooded the room, swelling upward through the exposed ductwork ceiling of her contemporary apartment, setting the stage for what she knew would be a memorable night.
She followed him to the kitchen, where he set the bag on the counter and began to withdraw its contents. Behind him, a pan was magically freed from the overhanging pot rack and settled on the stove.
“The warlock reveals himself,” she said softly.
Max smiled. “I am exactly who I said I was.”
“An insurance fraud investigator. I checked you out.”
“I’ve recovered on every case.”
“So I learned,” she said drily. “You’re determined to save the world from evildoers, both magical and otherwise.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” he challenged softly. “Once, you did the same.”
He pulled out a pint of organic cream, and she licked her lips. Perceptive, as all Hunters were, he beckoned a bowl from the cupboard with a flick of his wrist and poured her a ration. Victoria freed the last button on her shirt. A moment later, it and her drawstring pants were pooled on the marble kitchen floor. She waited a second longer, giving him a quick glimpse of what he’d get his fill of later, and then altered shape. With a fluid spring of her feline legs, she made the high leap to the butcher-block counter and crouched over the bowl.
Max ran his hand over her soft black fur. “You’re beautiful, kitten,” he rumbled in his delicious voice.
She purred in reply.
As she lapped up the cream, Victoria curled her tail around his wrist. His large hand dwarfed her, but she felt safe with him, unusual for an uncollared Familiar around a warlock who lacked a guide.
Hunters were the most powerful of magicians and didn’t need the augmentation Familiars provided. They kept the magical world clean, tracking down and dealing with any deviants who fought the command of the High Council.
Others like her.
The blunt tips of his fingers found the spots behind her ears and rubbed. She melted into the countertop.
“Let me finish dinner,” he murmured. “And then we’ll play.”
Max turned away to tend the stove, and she fought the urge to go to him. She lay on the countertop, her chin on her paws watching the muscles of his upper back flex as he chopped vegetables and seared fish. Studying him, she noted the ebony hair that shined with vitality and the firm, proud curve of his ass. She sighed.
She missed having a steady man in her life. Lately the loneliness seemed worse than ever, and she blamed the Council for that. They should have waited until a second witch or warlock/Familiar pairing could have joined them against the Triumvirate, but They failed to temper their eagerness. Unwilling to fail in so important a task, Darius had lost his life in order to succeed. And she had lost her soul mate.
With her heart weighing heavily, Victoria jumped to the floor and circled Max’s feet, purring and preening to win his attention. He was, astonishingly, too busy taking care of her to have meaningless sex with her. Too busy cooking for her, and soothing her with music and candlelight.
Her weary soul soaked up the attention greedily.
Moving through eternity without a partner was taking its toll. She couldn’t date humans, and she was exiled from her community. There was no one to wait for her or worry about her.
Her work was fulfilling and her success a source of deep pride, but often she wished she could curl up on the couch with a man who cared about her. Loved her. Max was not that man, but he was the first of all the warlocks sent after her who took the time to woo her. Part of her appreciated his efforts. The other part of her understood that he had ulterior motives.
So she wooed him right back, rubbing against his powerful calves with soft, tantalizing purrs.
The road to failure began thusly with all her Hunters. She promised them delight with every brush against their legs, her pheromones scenting the air until they were mad to have her. Due to Darius’s gift, she was able to alter her scent from one of submission to one of carnal demand, a primitive challenge to a Hunter’s need to be dominant. In effect, a waving red cape to a raging bull.
“It’s not so bad,” Max soothed in a tone that made her spine arch in pleasure. “There is joy in submission.”
Piqued that he remained so casually unaffected, Victoria sauntered away, her tail held high and her head lifted proudly.
Submission. She wasn’t suited to it. She was far too strong-willed, far too independent to bow to a man’s demands. Darius had known this. He had accepted it, and made exceptions for her so they could live in harmony.
Victoria altered form, and sprawled on the couch naked. From his position in the kitchen, Max had only to turn around and he could see her. His self-control disturbed her, as did the quiet air of command and the steely determination in those gray eyes. He was not a man to be led around by his dick.
She sighed, and waited for him to come to her. No man or warlock could long resist a naked, prone, and willing woman.
Leaning heavily into the counter, Max stared down at the cutting board and exhaled his frustration. At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to show the beautifully bared woman on the couch all the things he could do to her. For her. It took far more restraint than he was used to exerting to prevent tossing the knife into the sink and doing exactly that. A hard, heavy f*cking would help her forget, for a while, the sorrow he felt in her.
His eyes closed as he focused on that faint hint of sadness. The bond between Familiar and warlock always began with this tiny thread of awareness. It was early, too early, for the connection to be there, but it was. There was not enough of it yet to discern the cause of her unhappiness, but Max knew it was not a new distress. She’d carried it for some time.
Strangely, it was that deeper knowledge of her that attracted him now. More so than her beauty. Lust goaded by tenderness was a new sensation for him, one he savored slowly, as he would the first taste of a fine wine. Soft and mellow, it heated his blood just as liquor would.
As he continued to cook, he held on to the feel of his kitten, fostering the bond that he would use to bring her in from the fringes and back into the fold.
“Dinner’s ready,” he called out after a time.
Victoria stared up at the ceiling and wondered how Max could be so indifferent to her brazen offering of sex. Petulant, she said, “I want to eat in here.”
“Suit yourself,” he answered easily. She heard one of the dining chairs pulled away from the table, and a moment later the clink of silverware against china. Mouth agape, she bolted upright.
“Ummm . . . ” Max’s deep hum of enjoyment made goose bumps race across her skin. Then the rich scent of seared ahi and cream hit her nostrils and made her tummy growl.
She stood, and stomped into the kitchen, where she found only one setting—the one Max was seated in front of. Hands on her hips, her feline sensibilities offended, she snapped, “What about me?”
“Do you intend to join me now?”
“I planned to.”
Pushing away from the table, he rose to his full height, dwarfing her, a difference made more noticeable by her own state of undress. He offered her his chair, his apparent indifference to her bare body making her fists clench. Victoria plopped into the seat with an audible exhalation. This was not at all how she’d planned to corrupt him.
He reached for the long-tined fork. Spearing a piece of the nearly raw fish, Max dipped it in cream, and brought it to her lips. Startled, she stared up at him.
“Open.”
Before she realized it was a command, her lips parted and accepted the offering. Designed for her palate, the tastes blended together to form a delight for her senses. Max stood beside her, one hand on the back of her chair, caging her in while he prepared another bite. Her eyes met his in silent query.
“It’s a warlock’s duty to care for his pet.”
“I’m not your pet.” But it felt wonderful in any case.
“For now, you are.”
She hated to admit it, but his unwavering confidence aroused her. Her small breasts grew heavy, tender, the nipples peaked hard for his touch. Obligingly, his hand left the chair back and cupped the soft swell. Victoria gasped at the unexpected intimacy, and Max slipped the next bite into her mouth. As she chewed slowly, savoring the singular meal, his skilled fingertips toyed with her nipple.
“To submit is not to be weak,” he crooned in a husky, hypnotic tone. “You would not be less of a woman, kitten, but so much more of one.”
She shook her head fiercely even as she squeezed her thighs together, fighting the aching depth of lust she did not want to feel. The soft rolling and tugging of Max’s fingers on her nipple made her blood hot. As his arousal rose to meet hers, his skin warmed and filled the air with the faint scent of his cologne. The prominent bulge of his hard-on was eye level, and she couldn’t help but stare. The danger inherent in wanting him and his implacable arrogance turned her on to such an extent that she was panting in her chair. Her back arched helplessly, begging for more.
“It’s in your nature,” he murmured, his mouth to her ear. “The desire to be taken. To have the choice ripped from you so all you have to do is feel. Imagine my hands and mouth on your breasts . . . my fingers, tongue, and cock thrusting between your legs. . . . Your only task would be to enjoy the pleasure I can give you. Imagine the freedom in that.”
Freedom. Submission. The words could not be used together. They were mutually exclusive, but every time Victoria opened her mouth to retort, he filled it with food.
He continued to feed and fondle her until she writhed in the seat. Her skin was hot and tight, her cleft wet and creamy. Max knew all about her. He would have studied Familiars with precision and her in particular. It was his mission to hunt those who defied the Council. He knew Familiars craved to be touched and well fed. His approach was unusual, and therefore caught her off guard. They usually tried to f*ck her into submission, not coddle her into it.
Soon her belly was full, which normally made her sleepy. But not tonight. The burning lust in her veins kept her from napping. But still she was languid. Pliable. Max lifted and carried her to her room, and she was unable to protest. She wanted to feel him inside her like she wanted to breathe. Still, she wasn’t a fool. With a softly spoken word, Victoria bound his powers.
His smile told her he felt what she’d done. It wasn’t just any smile, but one that promised she’d pay.
It only made her hotter.
Max set her on her feet, and turned her to face away from him. Anticipation rippled down her spine, making her shiver and breathe shallowly. With a firm, irrefutable hold on the scruff of her neck, he pressed her forward until she bent at the waist, face down in her bed.
“Max?”
As he pulled away, his teeth scraped her shoulder with seductive portent and before she could blink, her hands were bound behind her.
“What the hell?” Her heart raced in near panic. She couldn’t believe he would move so quickly. She had never been bound. The sudden feeling of helplessness reminded her of the way she’d felt when Darius stood in the midst of deadly swirls of magic and she could only watch, useless. “No!” Victoria struggled wildly.
“Hush, kitten.” His large body came over hers, a warm physical blanket. With his hands on either side of her head, he nuzzled his cheek against hers, his voice far huskier than usual. “I won’t hurt you. Not ever.”
“I— You—”
“You can’t bind my powers,” he murmured. “You’re strong, but not that strong.”
“I don’t like this, Max.” Her voice was a plaintive whisper.
Then one of his hands lifted from the mattress. She felt it working against the curve of her ass just before she heard the slow rasp of his zipper lowering. To her amazement, the arousal that had died flared to life again.
“You’re so tense.” He licked a slow, wet trail along the length of her spine. “All you have to do is lie there and come.”
Suddenly, she couldn’t see, her vision blocked by some spell he’d cast. Victoria went completely still, her breath caught in her throat. She’d never felt so completely at the mercy of someone else.
Between her legs she ached with an arousal that made her writhe. Despite what her mind said, her instinctual nature could not be denied.
“Look how ready you are.” His fingers stroked between her legs, gliding through the creamy evidence of how excited she was. “It must be exhausting fighting against yourself all the time.”
“F*ck you,” she spat. Though his tone was matter-of-fact and not smug, she still felt suppressed. Restrained.
Dominated.
“Actually, I’m going to f*ck you. And you’re going to trust me enough to enjoy it.”
“I can’t trust you. I don’t know you. I only know what you want, which is the exact opposite of what I want.”
“Is it?” he asked patiently. “You’ll know me by the time I’m done. We’ll start with sex and work our way out.”
Victoria snorted. “How original.”
He paused, and she knew she’d scored a direct hit. She thought that would be the end of it.
Then against the back of her legs she felt the roughness of his jeans. “Aren’t you going to undress?” she breathed, her already keen senses now painfully acute from her blindness.
“No.”
One word. No explanation. She struggled, but was stilled by the warm, broad head of his cock stroking against her *.
“Spread your legs wider, Victoria.”
She didn’t move. Damned if she’d help him tame her, arrogant bastard.
He sank in, forcing her slick tissues to spread for him, to accept him. Just an inch. Then he withdrew. Rubbing the now creamy tip against her, Max teased her, and then pressed inside her again. Just that one inch. She buried her head in the comforter and groaned, her sex spasming, trying to pull him in to where she needed him.
“If you spread your legs, you can have what you want.”
Victoria lifted her head. “I want you tied to the bed so I can torture you. Not the other way around.”
His rumbling laughter made her shiver. The fact was, no matter what Max did or said, he attracted her. “But you wouldn’t be enjoying that nearly as much as this.”
“Screw the games, Max. Can’t we just f*ck?”
“I want to f*ck you like this, angled just the way I want you.”
“What about what I want?” she complained.
“You want the same thing, kitten. You just wish you didn’t. You’re so tight like this, your cunt is like a velvet fist. I’ll have to work my way into you . . . ”
Max waited with the same studious patience he’d displayed since meeting her, all the while the head of his cock stroked into the mouth of her p-ssy in silent enticement. Her traitorous body beckoned him with a soft ripple. She was soaked and hot, more than ready.
She briefly considered altering and walking away, but then she wouldn’t have sex with Max and that just wouldn’t do. So, with her pride smarting, Victoria widened her stance. He’d pay later.
Immediately he surged inside, going deep and then deeper still until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, every part of her focused on the thick pulsing cock that filled her too full.
Gasping, her back arched as his short nails scraped lightly across her hips. He leaned over her. Dominated her. As his rippling stomach touched her bound hands she felt the dampness of his sweat through his t-shirt.
The warlock was not as controlled as he appeared.
Taking what little power she could, she clutched his shirt in her hands, holding him to her.
Hands on the mattress to support his weight, Max began to shaft her in long, deep drives. The angle of his penetration stroked with tantalizing pressure inside her, and he varied his thrusts, rubbing high and then low in an expert inner massage.
It was slow and far too easy, his hips pumping in timed, measured rhythm. Unable to see, she pictured how it must look, Max fully clothed, his ass clenching and releasing as he f*cked her bound body. She quivered and began to purr. He growled in response, the vibration traveling the length of his body and into his thrusting cock.
“Do you feel weak?” he asked, his voice guttural and taunting. “Do you feel reduced because your body serves my pleasure and not your own?”
She wanted to retort, to argue, to fight, but she couldn’t. It felt too good doing nothing but taking what he gave her. She was a cat after all and inherently lazy.
“Inherently submissive,” he corrected. He moved one hand to cup her thigh and pulled it wider so he could f*ck deeper. Now every plunge of his cock brought his tight, heavy balls against her *.
He’d read her thoughts, she thought with what part of her brain was still functional.
The taming had begun.
With a soft hiss, she tightened around him. He cursed softly and shuddered, his body betraying him.
Suddenly, she grasped that he was as helpless as she. She’d attempted to use her body to entice him, and he’d succumbed. Despite the outward control he displayed, Max had started the evening with an entirely different approach and had dissolved from that into lust that could not be denied. Even now, his fingers bruised her hips, his thighs strained against hers, his labored breathing sounded loudly in the room.
Realizing that she was not alone in this unexpected physical fascination, she relaxed, sinking into the bed with a moan. It was not surrender. It was a stalemate.
Victoria’s mouth curved in a catlike smile.