Sleeping Beauty and the Demon (28 page)

Reaching for her, he traced her lips, her neck, and then her collarbone with his thumbs. And when he dropped his touch to the outline of her breasts, he grunted with passion. How he’d missed the way the skin around her nipples puckered when she was aroused. And how he’d longed to caress her derriere, and—.

“Christ, Rose! You make me so hard.” Grinning, he glanced down at his cock. It was as erect as a flagpole.

She smiled, too.

“I want to touch all of you,” he rasped.

Unhooking her skirt, he yanked it to the floor. Next, he tugged off her blouse, chemise, and undergarments and slid his hands over her creamy flesh. It was as soft as a baby’s. Rose knew how to spawn his lust and fuel his deepest fantasies without trying. She was the only woman he’d ever loved.
Would
ever love.

It was as simple as that.

“I want you as excited as I am.” Drago stepped in and nuzzled her neck. After he skimmed his hand down her bare arm, he clutched her hand. By cupping her chin with his other hand, he was able to slant his mouth over hers and deliver a slow, hot kiss. Then, showing his impatience, he swept his tongue over her lower lip and pried her mouth open. When he glided the length of his tongue into her mouth, Rose reeled in his arms.

Squeaking out sounds of ecstasy, she melted against him like butter softening in the sun. As she grazed his chest with her fingertips, she pressed the tips of her breasts against his pectoral muscles. Drago nearly spilled his semen right then.

He kissed her again—this time tasting her pleasure until he knew he’d ignited her unbridled excitement. “I want to satisfy you before we make love.”

She nodded, wide-eyed.

“Sit on the edge of the tub,” he instructed.

“Oh, Drago,” she murmured with a half-smile.

She did as he said and he pulled a stool over on which she placed her delicate foot. Smiling devilishly, Drago plunged to his knees. Meanwhile, Rose gripped the edge of the tub and opened her legs. He began petting her nether hair in languid circles, noticing that her curls shone a beautiful bronze color in the lamplight. Initially, he traced her outer folds. Then he used the pad of his thumb to put pressure on her cleft. The friction caused Rose to arch back in delight. Moisture started to flow from her folds—and he could smell the sweet scent of her arousal.

Yearning to taste her cream, he put his mouth to her slit and lapped at it.

Moaning, Rose balanced herself with one hand and fisted his wet hair with the other.

“Yes,” she whispered sharply. “Just like that.”

“Come, Rose. Come in my mouth.”

She pulled his face closer. Her hips danced in time to his mouth moving. After minutes of him swirling his tongue inside her and licking her potent ambrosia, Rose nodded. Her body stiffened and she cried out.

“That felt so good,” she said breathlessly.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his head, Drago stood. He yanked a large towel off a rack and spread it on the floor. Urging Rose down, he settled in between her damp thighs. Grasping his rigid shaft, he plunged himself inside. Rose moaned. Once she enveloped his waist with her long legs, she slid her hands over his hips and squeezed his buttocks.

The firm kneading made Drago even harder.

“My love,” he said as he gazed down at her. Her golden locks spread across the bathroom tiles like fine strands of silk and her pert breasts bounced gently with every thrust he gave her. And the patter of rain at the window added an erotic aura to Rose’s needy sounds.

“You’re so hard,” she said with a tiny smile.

That’s because you’re so tight,
Drago thought. He continued to pump, and the throbbing of his cock nearly convinced him that he hadn’t made love for decades.

When Rose trailed her fingertips up the curve of his back and cradled his face in both hands, his semen built from his balls upward. Drago honed in on her eyes the way he had at the Sunshine Theater—those purple eyes the shade of African violets—and his engorged sex pulsated with enormous pressure.

“Let me—” Before he could finish his sentence, Rose called out his name. That did it. Like a tidal wave rushing to shore, he ejaculated. And ejaculated.

Grunting, he finally stopped convulsing. Then, dizzy with satisfaction, he gathered her close.

Brushing kisses along her neck allowed him to breathe in her familiar iris scent. And feeling Rose’s wild heartbeat against his chest made Drago consider that having magical powers would never compare to the pleasure she gave him. He still hated himself for seeking portions of foreign souls to sustain his existence, but at the very least, that existence had brought Rose to him.

Now he was willing to give up his magic and become mortal—for her.

Drago lifted her off the ground and placed her inside the bathtub. Then he stepped in and joined her.

CHAPTER 30

R
ose was glad the bathwater was warm and bubbly. As Drago feathered a warm sponge across her shoulders, she closed her eyes. She lay turned away from him—and as he nestled in behind her, it felt wonderful to have him close again.

What she’d found out about him had cleared her conscience, at least the part about him not killing the girl at Coney Island. Of course, if Drago hadn’t murdered her, someone else had. Rose inhaled sharply at the thought. She nearly panicked—until she reminded herself that she was cradled safely in his arms. Drago made her feel secure because he was the only one who could protect her from Morvina.

Because it’s already midnight, and I’ve already turned twenty-one, we only need to get through today together
...

Rose reached behind her. By grasping Drago’s hip, she pulled him closer. Her breathing calmed as he stroked her long hair. Tranquilly, he allowed each wisp to flow through his fingers. The sensation comforted her. Drago’s solid muscles strained against her backside and as his erection was rejuvenated beneath the water, she became aroused again, too.

Drago reached beneath Rose’s arm and caressed her breasts with the sponge. Once he released a stream of bubbles between her breasts, he looked over her shoulder at the cluster of bubbles the sponge had left on her risen nipples.

In a rough voice he whispered, “You’re so beautiful, Rose. In a vision, I saw you in Patrick’s arms and I couldn’t stand it.”

“I’m sorry I went to him,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“No man will ever have you except me.” Determination coated Drago’s voice. While his intensity might have made other women flee a long time ago, Rose was in too deep to ever leave him again. She loved him desperately.

Drago blew away the cluster of bubbles at her breast. Then he dropped the sponge so that he could tease her nipple with his fingertips. Rose’s core stirred. She craned her neck and sought his lips for a crushing kiss. Meanwhile he delved a hand between her legs, petting her curls. Warm bathwater streamed around her as Rose wiggled. She separated her knees to let Drago explore deeper.

“You’re wet, and it’s not the bathwater,” he murmured.

Once he slipped his hand away, he replaced it with his lengthy sex. Gingerly, he inserted the tip inside her then gave a firm thrust forward—filling her in every sense of the word. While Drago held Rose tightly around the waist and pumped in and out of her, splashes of water sloshed over the sides of the tub. Rose moaned and moved her hips against his groin. She built up friction that way—and her sex contracted and released around his stiffness. In no time, she climaxed along with Drago, in perfect synchronization. In mirrored harmony.

Breathing heavily, they lay still until the water cooled. Then Drago suggested they get out.

As he emerged from the tub, Rose turned and looked up at him. His wet body glistened like diamonds in the light while his hair hung in damp locks around his face. With his hulking frame and his flexed muscles, he looked like a hungry warrior, ready for battle. That’s what he is, Rose supposed. A warrior, ready to do battle with Morvina.

Drago dried off before he wrapped the towel around his waist. Next, he brought a fluffy bathrobe to Rose. “Let’s go to bed.”

She got out of the tub and let him slip the garment over her shoulders. Cinching the waist, she padded to the massive bed in the other room. Drago was right behind her. They lay beneath the covers and as she rested her head on his chest, she stared at the darkness through the window. The quietness of the house and the calming effect of the bath put both of them to sleep.

Hours later, the sun peeked through the curtains. Drago shook Rose gently awake.

“I just had an idea,” Drago broached the subject without wasting another minute.

“What?” she asked, rolling to face him.

He lifted her chin so that he could look into her eyes. “I don’t want to guess about something this important. Maybe you can try and learn Morvina’s identity for certain.”

“You mean I should conduct another spirit writing session?” Her body stiffened.

“Yes.”

She thought about it for a moment. “I was terrified during the first one, but it’s worth a try.”

“I’ll set it up after we get dressed,” Drago said.

They donned their clothes and Rose proceeded to give Drago a verbal list of the things she needed. She also instructed him about what he should do during the session.

Once everything was in place, they sat at a writing desk inside the bedroom. The space fell into a hush. Leaning over, Drago gave her an encouraging peck on the cheek. She eyed him for a minute. His face was flushed and his hair was tousled from their recent sleep—and when his blue-green eyes shimmered at her with hope, he took her breath away, just as he had the night they met.

More than anything, Rose wanted this day to be over. She longed to be enfolded in Drago’s arms on a beach far away. Unfortunately, that dream would have to wait.

“Before we start,” she said, “promise me that you’ll follow my instructions to the letter.”

“You have my word.”

Closing her eyes, she lifted the pen. Sensing Drago’s stare and hearing the merry birds outside the window prevented her from falling into a meditative trance right away. Finally, Rose descended into the dark place she’d visited before.

When Drago surmised that all conscious thought had escaped Rose, he called out, “Appear spirits. Tell my wife what we want to know.”

Rose’s hand moved over the paper in large circles. An instant later, she jerked her hand away abruptly.

It was obvious that something had blocked her communication.

Drago tried to summon the spirit again. “If you can hear me, Rose needs you.”

A lengthy pause preceded Rose putting her pen to the paper again.

G-r-a-n-d-m-o-t-h-e-r
, she recorded.

“Please,” Drago said. “If you know who Morvina is disguising herself as, tell her.”

Rose’s pen hovered, silent and immobile for a moment. Then with incredible force, she wrote the letters,
E-v-i-l
.

“Thank you.” Drago gritted his teeth. “But we need a name, Grandmother.”

Rose jotted nothing for several minutes.

Drago closed his eyes as he continued. “I sense there’s a dark spirit in your world who doesn’t want us to know the name. But I’m begging you to tell us anyway.”

He snapped his eyes open and studied Rose.

Again, she didn’t write anything. Then in heavy, bold script she recorded,
B-e-l-l-u-m.

Faintly—as if from a hundred miles away—Rose heard Drago roar, “Son of a bitch!”

Bursting out of her trance, she slumped forward. She was almost too tired to glance at what she’d written.

“Look, Rose!” Drago slipped the paper from beneath her outspread arms. “Morvina has invaded Richard Bellum’s body!”

She shook away her grogginess and read the name she’d recorded. “My aunt has been Bellum the whole time?”

“Yes. It explains all of that bastard’s antics.”

Her voice took on the same enraged tone as Drago’s. “Like meeting me at your show? Offering me a job? Trying to bribe me to get information about you?”

“Exactly.”

She didn’t ordinarily swear, but Rose let out a doozy. “Wait a minute. Bellum seemed more bent on hurting you than me. Why?”

Drago’s face turned crimson. He took her by the shoulders. “I have to tell you something very important. If I don’t, you’ll be terrified tonight.”

Perspiration beaded her lip. “Tell me what?”

“I was sent here to meet you, Rose. But now I realize why. Morvina isn’t just an enchantress.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t put it together sooner. Enchantresses aren’t powerful enough to possess someone else’s body.
Morvina must be a demon
.”

As if she’d received a painful, electric shock, Rose leapt out of her seat. “She is what you are?”

“Yes. It all makes sense now. She’s the Immortal I’m destined to face in something called the Victory tonight.”

Her hands shook. Drago stood and grasped them.

“Currently, there are two demons left in the world. Morvina and me. But there can be only one.”

Rose’s body convulsed with terror. “Then you have to win! I don’t want to die—and I could never live without you.”

“Don’t worry,” Drago replied. “Come hell or high water, Morvina will pay for terrorizing you since you were a baby.”

“How are you going to make her pay?”

“I have this entire thing planned out in my head.”

She remained silent, immersed in the whirlpool of her fears.

“I organized the feat on top of the Woolworth Building with confidence,” he went on. “Confidence that the spectacle would reinstate my reputation as a talented magician. Confidence that I was powerful enough to save you from Morvina. But all that has changed. I don’t have the bracelet of Amenhotep or the lei coin. I wish I’d created a different, less dangerous act, but in actuality, I couldn’t have. The top of the Woolworth Building is the designated location. The location I saw in my vision. Tonight both of us will face what we fear most. And for everything to work out, you’re going to have to trust me.”

“I do,” Rose said, more weakly than she would have liked.