Authors: Angela Knight

Master of Smoke (7 page)

BOOK: Master of Smoke

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But it was Ronnie who had David’s undivided attention when the police arrived. Under his ice-blue glare, the man had confessed to beating Shelly and hitting his son.

Eva kept a close eye on the cops the entire time, afraid they’d notice the way David’s pupils contracted into vertical slits when he was pissed. She figured if anybody commented, she’d just claim he was wearing special contacts.

Hopefully the cops wouldn’t realize nobody made contacts that reacted to light.

Luckily, the police were far more interested in Ronnie’s confession than in the two neighbors who’d called the cops. They asked Eva and David a few questions, then let them go.

Too wired to sleep, Eva decided a trip to Wal-Mart was in order. The store was open all night, which gave her a good opportunity to replace David’s pants before they gelded him—a fate he insisted was imminent.

She and David left the store half an hour later with three pairs of jeans, four knit shirts in different colors, socks, underwear, and running shoes, along with a toothbrush, razor, and male deodorant.

“I’ve got to get some sleep,” Eva told him as they walked into her apartment carrying their purchases. “I’m supposed to open the shop in a few hours.”

“What shop?” David asked, following her back toward the guest bedroom.

“My father and I own a comic book store,” she explained. “We share the chores of operating it. It’s my turn to open tomorrow.” Eva frowned. “I’m just not sure what to do about you while I’m working.”

His eyes narrowed as his pupils contracted into slits. She really should have bought him a pair of sunglasses. “What do you mean, you are not sure what to do about me?”

“Uh—” Oh, shit. Might as well brazen it out. “I don’t know if I should leave you here while I go to work. What if your enemy tracks you down?”

David stepped in so close to her, she became instantly aware of his size, his heat, his scent. “What if my enemy tracks
you
down?”

“Ah ... yeah.” She stared up at him, half-hypnotized. “Maybe we should stick together.”

“Yes,” he purred. “It’s best if we are together.”

David lowered his head and kissed her. She froze, stunned by the feeling of his lips moving on hers. Slow. Hot. Exquisitely seductive. His tongue stroked across her lower lip until she opened for him with a helpless moan. His fingers found her chin, cupped gently. His hand felt warm, just slightly rough with calluses.

The burning heat within her had been waiting for just this chance. It blazed up, hot and savage, searing her self-control to a black cinder.

And she was lost.

Eva’s mouth tasted
rich, female, intoxicating. The gentle power of it maddened him, made David want to roll in her like a cat in catnip. He contented himself with kisses—gentle bites, licking passes over her lips, before stealing inside to trace her teeth and tease her tongue. She moaned and kissed him back: delightful pressure, soft lips that gave against his, a nibble of his lower lip.

His arms slid around her without his conscious intent, hands slipping down to explore the shape of her: the lush curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the rise of her rib cage. Her breasts seemed to call his hands, and he answered, first with careful brushes of fingertips that explored soft cloth and the intriguing contours beneath. What was she wearing under her shirt? And he found one nipple, jutting hopefully beneath all that fabric, a tight little bump that hardened even more as he cupped her, thumbed her, strummed the pouting button like a lute string. Eva’s hands fisted in his shirt, as if she were holding on to the only stable thing in a whirlwind.

David kissed her some more, getting rapidly drunk on her as he slipped a hand under her shirt to find out what she wore beneath it. Something silky covered the full lower curve of her breast, turning to something a little rougher—lace?

Well, of course he had to find out. David grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it upward. Eva raised her arms, giving silent permission, and he drew the shirt off over her head and dropped it heedlessly on the floor.

Then he simply gazed at her. Her breasts were lovely handfuls, pale and round, cupped in thin lace and black silk.
Bra
, his memory whispered, and he wondered how he knew that.

His attention zeroed in on her nipples. They jutted beneath the silk, the rosy shadow of her areoles peeking past the delicate web of black lace.

David looked up to find her watching him with a trace of anxiety in those big dark eyes. As if she was afraid he wouldn’t adore the sight of her.

“You are beautiful,” he told her. Pitiful words, he instantly decided, and tried again. “Your skin is so pale, like fresh, sweet cream.”

“I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to lie out in the sun,” she said, as if his words were a criticism. “And they say it’s not good for you, since it can cause ...”

He slid his hands up and cupped her breasts, and she stuttered to a stop, those gorgeous eyes huge, eating light.

“Your eyes are so dark. Like a moonless night in a deep forest.”

“I’ve always wished they were blue. Like yours.” She stared into his face as if he’d hypnotized her. “You know, when you feel strong emotion, they almost ... glow. And the pupils do that slit thing. Like a ...”

David thumbed one nipple, and she apparently forgot what she was going to say, her head tipping back to show him the elegant line of her slender neck framed in the gleaming darkness of her hair. A pulse throbbed there, rapidly thumping, and he had to put his lips against it, feel its leaping bound. He tongued it, tasting her skin, trace of salt, female perfume, and the tinge of wild musk that was her wolf.

Fluffy
.

He smiled against her throat, remembering the whimsical name. What did she look like when she changed? He wanted to see her, imagined her regal strength, her silken fur. She’d be as beautiful in that form as she was now.

He was purring again, but he didn’t bother trying to stop.

David purred, a
deep rhythmic rumble Eva could feel against her rib cage as he pulled her close. Her eyes drifted closed so she could concentrate on the kisses he was stringing down the curve of her throat. His warm lips felt impossibly soft, especially compared to the hard strength of the rest of him.

She wanted to see him naked again. Sliding a hand down his hard body, Eva grabbed handfuls of shirt and tugged upward. He lifted his brawny arms, and she managed to drag the tight shirt off. It hit the floor with a soft thump as she went for the snap of those tight, tight jeans.

He sucked his breath in as she started unzipping them, revealing his cock, which had somehow managed to get hard despite the skintight denim. Its head was a lovely dark rose, with a pearlescent drop of arousal trembling on the curve. Eva thought about tasting it, but she really had to get his poor dick out of those murderous jeans.

The zipper hissed in complaint as she pulled it down. His big hands joined hers when she started dragging at his waistband.

“Good God,” Eva muttered, tugging, “I’ve worn panty hose that weren’t this tight. No wonder you bitched.”

“You have no idea,” he growled, wiggling in a way that seemed so out of character she had to stifle a giggle.

David finally planted his butt on the carpet while she tugged and jerked, trying to work the skin-tight jeans down his muscled legs. The fabric clung like a determined—and very jealous—lover. Eva started giggling helplessly. When they had to stop tugging to pull off his shoes, David joined her, first with deep chuckles, then in booming laughter that made her giggle harder.

But when they finally got him naked, Eva’s laughter died a very quick death. She stared at him as he sprawled on the floor like a pasha, all long legs, his cock curved over his tight belly. His biceps bulged as he braced back on his elbows, and his hair fell around his shoulders like a river of ebony silk striped in silver. He wasn’t going gray; the stripes cut horizontally across his hair like the smoky markings of a cat. As she stared in fascination, he reached up and flipped back a lock of hair.

“Your ears are pointed.” They formed curving, elegant tips that reminded her of the elves from the
Lord of the Rings
movies. What the hell was he, anyway?

Then he rose up onto his knees with a powerful flex of his body, and she found she really didn’t give a damn. Whatever he was, he was most definitely male. And he wanted her. A lot.

David dropped to all fours and crawled up her body to unzip her pants and start working them down her hips. Eva lifted her pelvis and watched his eyes heat as he contemplated her tiny lace panties. She was suddenly very glad she hadn’t worn her usual plain white cotton. He paused to pull off her shoes, then dragged the jeans the rest of the way off before going after her underwear.

And God, she was wet. Slick and swollen and ready for him, zero to sixty in two seconds flat.

He’d taken the panties off, and now he spread her, taking her legs in his big hands and parting her knees with delicious male greed. He edged his big shoulders between them, and lowered his head, and—
Oh, God—
he started
eating
her, licking her like a really juicy peach, long passes of his clever tongue while one finger worked inside her swollen entrance. Sensation seemed to blind her for a moment. She fell backward on the floor, staring helplessly at the ceiling, and
felt
. Felt that tongue, felt that finger, sliding and stroking and driving her insane.

Eva heard herself moaning. She knew she should hold it down because the walls were thin, but she didn’t care. She let it rip, yowling like a cat in heat.

Lick. Lick. Thrust. Lick.

Holy God.

She couldn’t move. Pleasure-stunned, she sprawled on the floor with him between her legs, using his tongue in delicately merciless flicks.

His hands found her breasts, thumbs strumming her nipples lazily, raking back and forth while he licked. Delight rolled over her like waves of heated honey, sweet and slooow, and she lost her mind by inches.

Then he drew away, and the loss of that hot tongue made her blink in stunned disappointment. Where was he going ... ?

Oh. On top of her. Crawling up the length of her body, his hair and his warm, hard skin brushing along her flesh. He settled down lazily, his hips nudging her thighs wider. She watched him reach down and grab that cock, and aim it, and then ...

Oh, sweet God in heaven.

As if he had all the time in the world, David filled her,
stuffed
her slowly with inch after inch of stone-hard shaft. Eva shuddered helplessly and rolled her head back. His lips found the pulse in her throat, kissing and biting as she quivered. Somehow she managed to lift her heavy hands and slide them along the width of his shoulders, feeling him under her hands, warm and strong.

Had she ever made love like this? Ever? With
anybody
?

The answer to that was a big, fat
no
. Nobody had ever touched her like this, taken the time to drive her out of her mind before he even thought about his own pleasure.

So she lay under David and quivered, stunned stupid by every sweet, hot wave that rolled over her head.

Eva entranced him.
The smell of her skin at her pulse, the taste of the wet flesh between her legs, the long, straight silk of her hair in his fist.

The way she gripped him, slick and snug around his cock, a maddening delight.

He could feel the climax gathering in his balls, hot and heavy, ready to pound its way to his skull.

Gods.

Breath caught, David pulled out, forcing himself to go slowly, fighting to make the pleasure last. He wanted to hang on to every second of this incredible, soul-searing delight.

And, ooh, the way she
looked
.

She had her eyes closed, her lashes like sable feathers against her creamy cheeks. Her mouth parted as she moaned, lips flushed dark rose with passion, a blush painting those high, exquisite cheekbones. Her hair spread across the floor around her head in a dark halo of shining silk.

Every time he thrust deep, he felt her belly against his abdomen, her thighs sliding against his, her hips rolling to meet his grinding pelvis.

She slid her hands down, ran her fingers over his hips as if looking for a good grip. Found it, nails digging into his skin, the tiny pain sending him jolting deeper, harder, faster.

Lost and flying.

Her eyes opened, met his. Dark as the reflection of a moonless night on a still mountain lake. Drawing him in, pulling him down.

Her pupils flashed red, like fire igniting from a lightning strike, canine teeth lengthening into fangs as she came. Her scream spiraled into a deep-throated roar. Her nails lengthened into claws, but he barely felt the pain as he roared back at her.

Coming.

Pleasure like a firestorm raced along his nerves, searing his consciousness to ash as he shoved all the way to the balls.

BOOK: Master of Smoke

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