Ghost Stalker (9 page)

The ferocity of her kiss seemed to startle him for he tensed for just an instant and then tightened his hold upon her as he matched her sensual assault. Their tongues slid over one another, strong, lithe muscles stroking their desire.

He caressed her back, descending to the very base of her spine and then pressing them together at the hips.

She gasped at the electric energy of their connection and the pulsing ache that grew with each frenzied kiss.

Jessie drew back to tug away her prim blouse, flipping it inside out as she tossed it away. She wore only a lacy pink bra and jeans. He dipped a finger beneath the waistband, releasing the rivet, stripping her out of the formfitting denim.

She stood in her bra and panties, waiting impatiently as he drew his T-shirt over his head. He was nearly hairless, which allowed her to appreciate the rippling pectorals, which bunched and corded as he freed himself
of his shirt. He stood still for her perusal. She let her gaze devour him.

Wide, muscular shoulders, rippling six-pack abs and narrow hips all pleased her. He was virile, predatory and dangerous.

The type of man she would never consider in her life. He would be too unpredictable, too demanding. She gazed into his hungry eyes. Yes, and too possessive, as well. But here she was safe and free to admit to herself that she wanted to be hunted, possessed and devoured. And Nick looked more than willing to make her fantasy come true.

He grasped her shoulders and dragged her forward, pressing her to his bare torso. The contact was wonderful and terrible. The warm skin and hard muscle did things to her. Her breasts ached and her nipples contracted into painful buds. She relished the contact but found it lacking. His jeans, her bra, they suddenly seemed the most infuriating of barriers.

His mouth found her neck, drawing a groan of pleasure from her lips. He worked down the column of her throat, nipping, sucking and kissing his way along, following a scent trail and marking his territory.

His attention drew the velvety moisture from her, making her grow slick and impatient. He unfastened her bra with a skill that should have given her pause. In other circumstances, she would be jealous of his past lovers, but here, now, she was grateful to be the beneficiary of his experience.

He kissed the swell at the outer edge of her breast, teasing her by not satisfying her need to feel his hot
mouth draw on her. He was not rash or young and showed the maddening control of a skilled athlete.

His broad hands splayed across her rib cage as he moved circuitously toward his destination. Finally, she could stand it no longer and twisted so as to bring her nipple in contact with his lips. He breathed hot air upon her in what she thought might be a silent laugh. Did he find her wild desire for him gratifying, amusing? Did it make her just like all the others?

That disturbing thought was shaken from her mind an instant later, when his tongue flicked over her taunt nipple. The hot pinpoint of pleasure would have buckled her knees if he was not already laying her on the soft carpet of moss. Her belly pressed against his chest as he drew her forward, taking her nipple in his mouth and sucking.

She gasped at the flood of moisture between her legs.

“Great Spirit of Man,” she whispered.

He drew back, gazing down at her with hungry, knowing eyes—the eyes of a man with the certain knowledge that he would get exactly what he wanted.

“Oh, no, sweet one. Even he can’t deliver you from me.”

M
ichaela Proud woke with a start. Instantly, her husband, Sebastian, roused beside her, searching their cabin for any sign of a threat.

She laid a hand upon his corded biceps. Sebastian was a Skinwalker, a great grizzly bear, and even when walking in the guise of a man, he was enormous.

“A dream,” she whispered.

He flopped back onto the mattress, which he had consented to use for her sake. Given his druthers, he would rest on the floor with no more than a few furs beneath him.

He wrapped an arm about her and drew her close to his side. She felt the reassurance of his body. She breathed deep of his familiar scent, feeling her frantic heartbeat slowing to match his.

He nuzzled her hair and then kissed the top of her head. “Tell me.”

“I saw Nick.”

“Nick? What was he doing?” Sebastian understood the power of dreams as messengers, so it was important that she remember correctly.

She closed her eyes and tried to grasp the fleeting images as they fled. “You were there, too.”

“Where?”

“At the Palisades.”

He stiffened. “Near Nick’s lodge.” She concentrated. “Yes.”

Her husband’s body was now tense and she read his thoughts. This was the place where Fleetfoot met his end. A haunted, sacred place to his people. She tried to focus on her own thoughts and not become entangled in his.

Why had Nick come? Her eyes popped open. “Ghosts.”

Sebastian rolled toward her. “Where?”

It was natural for him to think there were ghosts about them, since she had the gift to both see and speak to those who had not yet walked the Spirit Road. As the last Seer of Souls, she alone could see ghosts, not in possession of a host body, and she could see all Spirits.

She stroked his cheek to calm him. “Not here.”

Michaela could not see his face in the dim light cast by only the stars, but knew that he could see her clearly. He retained all his gifts when in the form of a man, night sight among the rest.

“Ghosts in your dream?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nick saw them. They attacked him!”

“Ghosts cannot attack a living creature.”

“He was attacked. I could sense death lingering about him.”

Sebastian sat up. “Is Nick dead?”

“No, no.” She assured him by pushing him back into his place beside her. “But he has been touched by them.”

Sebastian thought on this. “Possession?”

“It must be. But ghosts can not possess an Inanoka. I don’t understand what happened but something did. We should go to him.”

“Did he ask us to go to him?”

She closed her eyes, trying to recall his exact words. Her eyes popped open. “Bait. He said something about bait.”

“What does that mean?”

It all flooded back to her. “They are using him to find you and thus find me.”

Sebastian’s voice growled. “Nagi.”

Her husband pressed his cheek to the top of her head, cradling her close.

She said nothing but wrapped her arms protectively about her swollen belly, trying to ward off the chill that even her husband’s strong arms could not dispel.

“Tomorrow we go farther north.”

“What about Nick?”

Sebastian’s voice held a tension she recognized as
worry, although she knew it would appear as callousness to one who did not know him. “He’s a wolf. He can take care of himself.”

Nicholas stroked his tongue across Jessie’s ripe pink nipple, glorying in the cries of excitement she gave. They were like fuel to his internal fires.

This wild, beautiful and passionate Spirit Child had consented to have him. He did not question it.

This woman, Jessie, she did something to him, something new. The urgency, for one thing. He used all his control not to rush to take what she offered. A sheen of sweat covered them now, adding to the fragrance of arousal and the glide of skin on skin.

He moved lower, kissing the velvet of her stomach as he peeled away the scrap of lace that kept him from her.

The nest of dark, tight curls and the moan of anticipation spurred him. He dipped a finger into her honeyed cleft and kissed her as she arched toward him. He kissed and licked as his fingers moved within her. With the other hand he stroked her from the sensitive mound of her breast to the silky skin of her inner thigh. She moved as gracefully as the ocean, rhythmic and eternal.

She reached her first climax as he kissed her, gasping out his name. He closed his eyes to savor the sweetness of her surrender. Then he brushed his mouth against her inner thigh, to remove the moisture that clung there, and scaled her body like an explorer.

She splayed her legs as he settled between her thighs,
poised to take her. Their gazes met, hers sleepy and sultry, his, no doubt, hungry. The smile she gave him both satisfied and aroused. In it she promised him pleasure, but something more; he knew it was more. This joining, though new, seemed familiar, as if he should remember her, them.

He brushed aside the odd rumination and grasped her hips.

“You’re sweet as honey,” he whispered. Who would have expected such passion from a Spirit Child? This was a side of her personality she had kept hidden, this passion and this heat.

She threaded her fingers in his hair and drew him forward for a kiss, thrusting her tongue into his mouth as he thrust into her.

She cried out and fell back, arching to meet him. The slide of his turgid flesh against her soft folds made him groan in pleasure. The bump of his hips to her pelvis signaled their joining. He paused there and then drew back. Despite the intimate connection, he needed the connection of her gaze, needed to see if she felt the uniqueness of this.

In his time on earth, he had slept with many women, too many to count. He could not say exactly what was different, but recognized it just the same. Her anticipation of his needs, his ability to make her lose her reserve and the complete honesty of this moment all struck him.

He gazed at her, seeing her for the first time as she truly was, ripe, real and passionate. She wanted him, wanted this. He knew she was not like him, randy and promiscuous.

That she had accepted him, allowed him entrance into her body was nearly unfathomable.

And then he realized what was different, the reason for his added pleasure, the cause of his increased arousal.

He was not just guessing at her feelings. He knew them. Felt them as clearly as he experienced his own.

What was this?

The shock of his realization caused him to draw back. It was a mistake, the straw on the camel, the step too far.

He felt the quickening inside her as her climax threatened. The rolling wave of pleasure merged with his own. Together they were unstoppable.

He surged forward again, gripping her as if to keep himself from falling. He was falling. She lifted her hips and arched her back, opening to his thrusts.

Her cries mingled with his long groan of release as they toppled into a crashing ecstasy, a waterfall of tumbling, tumult that tangled their limbs together.

His body jolted awake, the wave of pleasure dissolving into the jagged pain of his waking reality. His face burned, his ribs pulsed with agony and…oh, sweet mother of us all, he glanced down at his crotch. He hadn’t had a wet dream for nearly a hundred years.

His gaze lifted to the light across the room and found Jessie sitting in the armchair. One elbow perched on the armrest, allowing her hand to cradle her cheek. Her eyes were closed but blinked open as he stared.

She gasped as their eyes met.

Jessie straightened in the chair. What had happened?
One minute she was deep inside his dream and the next…

She stared across the room at Nick. He glared at her, his jaw so tight the muscle bulged.

If she didn’t know better—the realization swept past her like a retreating tide. No, no, it wasn’t possible.

He kept his gaze intent, accusatory.

He
couldn’t
remember; no one
ever
remembered.

But she’d never tried her dream walking on an Inanoka. So she really didn’t know.

Jessie stiffened as the certainty petrified her. He knew.

“What did you do?” he growled.

Her jaw dropped as words failed her. Sweet Maka, help her. What
had
she done? In his dream he was so handsome, so giving. The temptation and promise of anonymity were too much to resist and she had lowered her guard.

“Oh, Great Spirit,” she whispered.

“You invaded my dream.”

“I never thought that…I mean, I didn’t intend…” How could she finish?

“You didn’t intend to get caught. Is that what you didn’t intend? ’Cause you sure as hell had no qualms about stroking me up one side and down the other.”

“Nicholas, please.” She’d never used his given name before. But now that she had seen him whole and beautiful, the battered creature before her had ceased to be. She needed to recall who he was, no,
what
he was. But all she could do was hum like a struck piano chord. Her body still trembled from his lovemaking.
The moisture of her wanting slickened her panties and she shifted uncomfortably. “I just wanted to find the truth.”

“And you found it. The truth is you are just like the rest of them. You want me for only one thing.”

What did he mean, the rest? She could not think with her mind spinning. She had never, ever taken advantage of a sleeper. She suddenly felt sickened by what she had done.

“Do you do this often? Sneak into men’s dreams and strip down like a pole dancer?”

She sprang to her feet in a wave of indignation. “Never! I didn’t intend for that to happen.”

“The hell you didn’t. What a joke. You really had me fooled, all aloof on the exterior, but oh my, how you burn underneath.” His groan was deep and sensual. “I’ve never felt anything like that. You’re damn good, Doc. What exactly did you do?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted to find out about the Seer. I don’t understand this any better than you do.”

“Well, you have your answers.” He let his head fall back to the pillow, as if suddenly exhausted. “Sweet mother, you could have killed me.”

“You were safe here in bed the whole time,” she said as she crept to the door.

He gave a disparaging snort and then grimaced.

“It never really happened,” she insisted.

He met her stare with a quirking smile that radiated confidence and an aura bright with sexuality.

“Keep telling yourself that, Doc. But we both know the truth.”

Her chin sunk to her chest. “I’m sorry, Nicholas. It won’t happen again.”