Retribution (11 page)

He grasped her butt in both hands, lifting it high enough to catch a glimpse, and as he slowly brought her back down, her body tightened and curled, dragging her lips and nose down his stomach. She felt like she’d explode should the tension break, so she made herself relax and flipped up. Gravity forced her to take everything he had to offer, and she arched as a thrill shot through her core.

He groaned his approval, and she raised her head, tingling from head to toe as she stared down at him – his magnificent body suspended in mid-air; his warm eyes observing every inch of her unveiled and fluctuating flesh; deep dimples flickering outside parted lips curved with content. She took a mental snapshot, tucking the extraordinary image away for later. Then she left his gaze and rolled against him, braced by magic and his strong hands.

When his aura swelled around her, his shaft swelled inside her, and she raised up, holding them both hostage on the brink of ecstasy. His fingers dipped into her hips as a rumble rolled in his diaphragm, and the next time she exhaled, she bore down on him, her body tight and tingly as she slipped over the edge. Her breasts heaved as she reached behind her and clutched his hard thighs, and he stretched, his satisfied growl surging loud and clear from his chest.
 

They hovered that way for several heavenly minutes, slightly curved over the bed, wavering within their indulged and swollen auras – he like an unstrung bow, and her a beautifully bent arrow frozen upon its magical release.

When she smoothly flipped forward and rested her chest to his, he descended to the bed, hugging her close while burying his face in her hair. They melted into the blankets, and somehow, the outside world stayed quiet, letting them linger in the bliss. Life was perfect, if only for a while.

They held on to the sublime feeling as long as they could, drowning in a sea of transcendental tranquility, and when the unease tried to creep back in, he rolled her onto her back and returned her to their erotic dreamland.

It was amazing – the stamina he had with her. Wizards were naturally able to keep up in a way hexless men only dream about, but it had never been like this. Never without breaks and never without the use of focus, willpower and magic. That, however, had changed. A new talent had been awakened by his angel, so they stayed wrapped around each other for hours, pausing only to absorb the rush and catch their breaths. He used magic to heal their bodies, soothing tender areas inside and out, and so their pleasure continued well into the evening.

They eventually lost count of their orgasms, but they didn’t care and would have kept going if her stomach hadn’t growled. She giggled into his chest, and he smiled as he wrapped her in a tight hug. “Layla, my love, you are, without a doubt, the most amazing woman in the world.”

She rubbed her face over his heart, tasting him as her lips throbbed with its beats. Then she gave his chest a kiss and smiled at him. “I think we've put Karena's best room to good use. What do you think?”

He laughed as he brushed her hair from her face and took her cheek. “I doubt this room has ever seen anything like us, and it won't again until we return.”

“We'll have to hurry back then. A room like this should get its fair share.”

“I agree, and we will come back. Again and again.”

She walked her fingers up his chest and neck. Then she skipped them to his lips. “I look forward to showing our bedroom what we can do.”
 

“Then we'll have to show it soon.” He tightened his grip. Then he pulled himself from her body while bringing her face closer to his. “Are you ready to go home, angel?”

“You are my home, Quin.”

“You make me lighter than air when you say things like that,” he whispered, working tangles out of her curls.

Her stomach growled again, and he wrapped one arm around her waist, running a hand down her rumbling tummy. “I better feed you, my love. I can't have you getting weak on me.”

“We'll feed each other.”

“Now that sounds like a good plan. I'll have to find some particularly messy food so when I
accidentally
miss your mouth, I can lick it off your chest.”

She giggled and wrapped her fingers in his hair. Then she buried his face in her breasts. “What makes you think you need an excuse to lick my chest?”

He filled his mouth with her, gently kneading her nipple between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Then he let it slip away before giving it one more lick. “It's tasty, but it won't fill our stomachs with anything more substantial than flutters.”

“To quote the man of my dreams, I'm okay with that.”

“Well I'm not okay with letting my angel starve.”
   

“Okay. We'll go home and find some messy food, then eat it off each other's naked bodies. That way our hunger will be satisfied in more ways than one.”

“That's a brilliant plan, but I doubt my hunger for you will ever be satisfied.”

“Good, because I don't want to have to rub food all over myself to get your mouth on me.” She paused and pulled herself tighter against him. “But I would if that's what it took. I’d make a menu and lay it by the bed. Then every time you got hungry, I’d take your order and serve it up on a naked platter.”

“Mmm...” he murmured, rolling her onto her back. Then he lowered his mouth to the pulse point at her throat, tasting it as he whispered.
 
“Sounds like fine dining to me.”

Chapter 6

The blaring lights of Las Vegas came into view long before Guthrie reached Vortigern’s institute, which was located on a more secluded plot of sand west of Vegas.

Given Vortigern’s association with Agro, it was safe to assume his institute was guarded, so Guthrie signaled for his unit to land more than half a mile outside Vortigern’s property. Guthrie could see the institute in the distance, lights flickering in the windows of a sprawling Santa Fe style ranch, and he spotted a few shadowed figures patrolling the land, their concealed auras shimmering under a full moon.

The closest of the figures approached, and Guthrie ordered everyone to stay put as he met the guard halfway. The exchange was short and civil. Then Guthrie patiently waited for Vortigern, who soon flew across the desert with a handful of teenage magicians in tow.

Vortigern eyed the twelve guests as he gracefully landed, his tall frame thinner than most wizards, but what he lacked in muscle, he made up for with his piercing stare – pale-blue and full of mystique. Guthrie had seen that look before, in a soothsayer who’d lasted about a year in Agro’s camp before losing a few fingers due to inaccuracy; it was the wise and wandering gaze of a man who’d been practicing mental magic far too long. The prolonged strain on the brain tended to drive the best of them mad.

“Vortigern,” Guthrie greeted.

“That’s who I am,” Vortigern returned. “Who are you?”

“Guthrie – first lieutenant of the Dark Elite.”

Vortigern subjected the claim to mental evaluation, the way all men of his sort did. Then he looked to Guthrie’s companions. “And what does Agro’s finest want with me?”

“Soothsayers. And we’d appreciate a break within the safety of your compound while we broker a fair deal.”

“Agro doesn’t play fair,” Vortigern laughed, “but only a fool denies the man service. Come on in. We’ll strike our deal over a hot meal. Have you traveled far?”

By the time Guthrie stepped into the largest of the adobe buildings, Vortigern had invited everyone to stay the night, and since Guthrie’s current plan was to sleep under the stars in the middle of the desert, he humbly accepted.

“Your hospitality is warmly received,” he returned, scanning the institute’s modernized interior. They’d gathered in a living room that seemed to double as a lobby. Witches and wizards milled around, the majority of them under thirty, and for the most part, they appeared in good spirits. Only a few wore the expressions of captives, which was exactly what they were – brainwashed girls and boys torn from their homes at an age too young to remember.

“First let’s fill your stomachs,” Vortigern suggested, leading his guests down a corridor. “Then we’ll attend to business.”

The meal was the finest Guthrie had eaten in a long time, and it was served by skimpily clad witches just old enough for him to admire without feeling guilty. When dessert was served, Guthrie caught Lynette’s eye and knew his appraisal of their servers hadn’t gone unnoticed. Not that he gave a shit what Lynette thought. He still wasn’t sure why he’d brought her to Nevada instead of sending her with the soldiers scouring California. It had been a last minute decision, one brought on by those damn eyes, their violet depths a reflection of his fractured soul.

As the dishes were cleared, Vortigern invited everyone to his library for a drink, which eventually turned into a full blown party. Quality booze, potent cannabis, and unrestrained sexuality flowed freely among magicians who’d been denied simple pleasures far too long, and Guthrie kept an eye on things from a comfortable chair in the corner, unwilling to deny his comrades a good time.

Vortigern stayed on the fringes as well, keeping Guthrie’s scotch filled while playing host through commands to his students, all of whom addressed him as Master Vortigern, and some of whom doubled as party favors.

Guthrie had worked out the details of Agro’s order by his second round of drinks; now Vortigern was explicating the theory of negative energy and how it relates to a person’s aura and well-being. Guthrie couldn’t care less, but he gave the impression he was listening as he drowned the lecture in liquor.

Scanning the long room, he found Token getting blown by a witch who had her ass in the air for a second wizard, and it made him think of Lyn, who’d been surprisingly quiet. He searched the sea of faces, but didn’t find her. Three others were missing as well.

“Problem?” Vortigern asked.

“Some of my soldiers are missing,” Guthrie answered, leaning forward to rise.

“Relax,” Vortigern insisted, pouring another round. “They retired to their room. I had a student lead the way. If I’d known you were coming, I would have been better prepared. As it is, I only had two rooms to offer you. I’m afraid your soldiers will be sleeping together tonight.”

“You’ve offered more than expected,” Guthrie noted. “Agro will hear of your hospitality.”

“Don’t bother. He won’t give a shit.”

Guthrie swallowed a smirk then downed his drink. “Well know that your kindness wasn’t lost on my comrades.”

“They looked weary,” Vortigern replied, sweeping his gaze across the room.

“You wouldn’t know it now,” Guthrie laughed. “I need to rein them in.”

“I’m surprised you refrain from joining them. Or does a man of your status get enough fun in camp?”

“A man of my status doesn’t know the meaning of the word.” Guthrie stood and turned to his host. “But a soft bed, I can appreciate.”

“I’ll have one of my girls show you the way,” Vortigern allowed. “Let your comrades play. We’ll lull them to sleep soon.”

Guthrie scanned Vortigern’s aura, looking for a hint of betrayal, but the man had proved himself an ally on all accounts. Even the deal had gone down smoothly. His best soothsayers, he claimed, were away on a job, but he offered the best of those in his reserve.

“Then I’ll let them play,” Guthrie agreed. But before following a young student from the library, he interrupted Token’s fun and placed him in charge of those staying up.

The scotch hit Guthrie’s head as he navigated the institute’s hallways, but he wasn’t so impaired he felt comfortable being alone with a scantily-clad witch who’d barely reached puberty. To Vortigern’s credit, Guthrie hadn’t seen any teenage witches thrown into the sexual games taking place in the library, but he had no doubt the institute held ugly secrets beneath its fancy surface.

“This is it,” the young girl announced, motioning down a hallway with two doors. “The first room is for your soldiers; the second is yours.”

Guthrie headed for the second door without looking back. He didn’t much care for children and had no desire to talk with one.

Being a man of few indulgences and accustomed to the fact, he hadn’t considered what his chamber might look like, so he entered the room without the slightest anticipation. Then he stumbled to a stop.

There, in a room bigger than the boss’ tent, and on a bed bigger than any he’d slept on, lay two naked witches – Lynette and another woman, a student, who was spread open and moaning as Lynette’s fingers pumped inside her.

“There you are,” Lynette greeted, her hand surfacing as she rose from the bed. “Look what I found.”

Guthrie glanced between the temptation on the bed and the one walking toward him. “Where did you find her?”

Rolling her eyes, Lynette reached up, hovering wet fingers an inch from his lips. “Relax, Guthrie. She was eager to play along when our host made the suggestion.”

“So this was all Vortigern’s idea.”

Lynette ignored his sarcasm and moved her fingers closer. “Taste her. I know you want to.”

Guthrie’s lips parted, his tongue moistening as it slid over his teeth, but then he grabbed Lynette’s wrist and looked at the witch on the bed, who’d begun stroking herself in Lynette’s absence. The wrist in his fist squirmed, but he didn’t ease his grip as he spoke, his voice strained by undeniable arousal. “How old is she?”