Chapter Twenty-Four
Twenty-Four
“This dress you have chosen. It is very distracting.”
Cally leaned into his chest as he leaped across the rooftops of Boston, his shadows trailing around them both. “Eve chose it. I just didn’t argue.”
His arms circled her legs and shoulders, cradling her to him, his hold snug around her bare thigh; the dress was that short. Also, it had ridden up.
“She is a ferocious creature in a small package. I think we should all be glad she is not a vampire.”
Cally smiled against his neck. It was colder than the last time they’d traveled like this, and her coat was half-open, offering little protection. But she didn’t want to stop and fasten it.
“Tomorrow, she’s quitting her job. She can’t—” Hide from the Order… but that wasn’t something Cally could share, and she hated that necessity. “—help me with my magic, and keep a full-time occupation.”
“And what of you, and your job?”
“In truth, neither Eve nor I feel suited to the muggle world after learning of vampires.”
“What is this ‘muggle’?”
“You watched Buffy but not Harry Potter?” Antoine landed on a tall building, but Cally didn’t care enough to see which. The wind cut through her coat, and she shivered.
“I skipped that one. It had no vampires in it.” He pulled her closer. “You’re cold.”
“I’ll be fine until we get home.”
His grip shifted around her legs, tucking her into the crook of his arm, his hand sliding beneath her dress to rest against her ass. “Is that better?” he asked, as he resumed their journey with another leap.
“For what, distractions or warmth?”
He chuckled softly, and it was the first time she’d heard him make such a sound since he’d returned; a reassuring relief. “I was going for warmth, but if distractions will help, that could be arranged too.”
“Distract me later. I want to talk about Eve.”
“You worry for her future if she quits her job?”
“Exactly.”
“But she can help you with your magic, you say?”
“Yes. She has a text. It’s very old.”
“Remarkable. Where is it from, this text?”
“I’m not sure of its origins,” Cally demurred. “Some of it is in Gaeilge.” She felt like shit for lying to him—especially with where his palm currently rested. I have to tell him soon. But what will he do? Go after them, most likely. And that wasn’t an option.
“I remain skeptical, ma chérie. There are many such texts, but genuine ones are rare indeed. However, if it can aid you, I will lend all the assistance in my power.”
“Do you mind if Eve remains with us while she studies it?”
“We are bonded. The house is as much yours as mine, and she is your guest. She may stay as long as you both wish.”
“Thank you.”
“Are we done discussing your friend?” His hand slid over her rear, and his fingertips curled into the waistband of her panties.
“I’m suddenly hesitant to say yes, but… yes?”
Cally gasped as he ripped them from her, letting them flutter down to the buildings below. “Damn it. I liked that pair.”
“I will buy more, and rip those from you too.” His palm pressed warm against the bare skin of her ass. “You were right earlier: you are my prey. The thought has not faded with talk of jobs and magical texts.”
“This is a side of you I haven’t seen before.”
“Are you so sure, ma chérie?”
She recalled the first time they’d met in his house, when he’d helped himself to her blood, and realized her error. “Are you still my monster, Antoine?”
“More than before, I fear.” His tone was only half-teasing.
His touch offered more heat than any wisp of clothing, and Cally raised her knees more, licking at his neck, tasting his skin. She inhaled the faint spice of his cologne, his subtle musk beneath. “I don’t fear you.”
His voice fell quiet, threaded with resolve. “Maybe you should.”
“Do you want me to?” she asked with a hint of caution, unsure if they were playing.
He was silent for two more leaps, his palm pressed against her. When he spoke, it was in the same serious tones. “I have unfinished business with Nico and Tobias, two of the vampires that entombed me.”
“Nico?” Cally said too sharply. “And… Tobias?” How many vampires called Nico could there be?
“Yes. They are supporters of Roberto.”
Cally remembered that name from Belle’s visit, every moment forever ingrained. “Minh’s sire.”
“Correct.” Antoine’s tone was laced with bitterness. “He is also the Curia member here in Boston.”
“They are the ones who entombed you?”
“Oui.”
“Are you going to kill them?”
He looked down, his eyes searching hers. “Would that disturb you?”
She cupped his cheek. “Would you like my help?”
He smiled at her, hungry and without humor, flashing a hint of his fangs. “What a nice thing to offer. But alas, I fear this fight is beyond even a warrior such as you.”
“As a warrior, maybe. What about as a witch?” If Eve can find other spells in that book. And if I can even cast any of them.
He landed on the next building and halted within two paces, his gaze intense as he held hers. “You would join me in this fight?”
“We’re bonded,” she said simply. “I will join you anywhere.”
“Ma chérie.” He lifted her to him as his mouth found hers, and she opened to him, hooking an arm around his neck and pulling him closer. His tongue pushed within, seeking hers, the kiss urgent and deep as he tasted her.
From that kiss alone she would have burned for him, but with his touch against her naked ass for so long, there was already a warmth inside her the cold couldn’t reach.
It tried though, cutting through her thin dress, the contrast of sensations sharpening her senses, awakening her body.
Then his grip shifted, fingers spreading out, one coming to rest at the apex of her legs, and her breath caught. She knew that had been no accident.
“How far from home are we?” she whispered between kisses.
“Ten minutes, maybe.”
“Too long.”
He chuckled, a throaty possessive sound, as he collected her against his chest and hurled them into the air once more, the wind rushing past, caressing her skin.
His arm flexed, biceps tightening to push her legs higher as he pressed her closer to his body.
“I’ve thought of another way to warm you,” he murmured, and rubbed a fingertip between her folds.
Cally gasped at the touch, pinned by his arm and the inexorable strength behind it, her ass bare and open to him. Unable to move—not that she wanted to.
“You are so wet,” he said as he stroked her, then slowly pushed his finger within.
“Antoine,” she whimpered, helpless to resist. Is this what he had meant, when he spoke of submission earned? His shadows enveloped them, and she knew he would never let them be seen. But they were flying above buildings, cars, and so many people, and his finger curled inside her.
The last ten minutes of their journey home were a whirl of sensation, and Cally wasn’t sure whether it flew by with the speed of Antoine’s soaring jumps, or dragged interminably as she longed for more.
She clung on and buried her face into his neck, her small gasps the only sound between them.
His finger moved only slightly, rubbing within, enough to tease and torment but no more.
He knew exactly what he was doing—the bastard.
At last, at long last, he touched down for a final time, and Cally could tell only because he didn’t leap, but instead strode purposefully across his own rooftop.
Mercifully, he didn’t try to set her down, but continued to hold her to him, releasing only one hand to enter the code that opened his skylight.
Not the hand with the finger pressed inside her, and as he carried her within, it curled and rubbed.
“Are you hungry?” he teased. “You haven’t eaten tonight.”
“If you take me anywhere but the bedroom, I will claw your clothes off and—”
He chuckled even as he covered her mouth with his own, muffling her words as he carried her through the house.
A faint gasp marked them passing Eve in the hallway, and Cally knew she’d be mortified when she saw her again, but for now she didn’t care. The door slammed shut behind them, and Antoine set her on her feet.
Cally thought he would carry her to the bed, but instead she found herself pinned against the wall by his body. She was grateful for the support, her legs trembling, unsteady.
He spun her to face it, pressing her palms to it as his chest pushed into her back, holding her in place. His lips brushed her ear. “What did I say to you in the gallery?”
It took a moment to recall. “There are no sculptures to watch in here.”
He rudely tugged her dress up to her waist, cupping her ass as his fingers delved between her legs, while a snap of leather marked his belt coming undone. “If you wish to be watched, Eve will be loitering in the hallway outside. Should I invite her in?”
“Don’t you d—”
The tip of him pressed to her, and she gasped at the feel of it rubbing through her wetness. There was barely any warning before he thrust forward, hard and sharp.
He had toyed with her for so long that she was ready for him, but there was still pain mingling with the pleasure. Cally cried out, driven into the wall, and she tilted her hips as best she could to take him in.
It wasn’t like the first time they’d made love. It was primal, savage. Every thrust drove him fully inside her, his hips slapping into her ass, and she was helpless to do anything but endure—the pleasure, the pain, and the submission he forced upon her.
Was that what he wanted? Her submission? Was she nothing more than prey?
“Antoine…” She spoke his name with the intent of objecting, of trying to regain something of herself, but it came out as a breathy whimper, and he ignored her.