The Master (28 page)

But she wasn't in control anymore. She loved, and so her destiny was no longer her own to decide.

Yes, she
loved
Nick. She wanted to make love to him again, even without magic. Fighting was stupid—it hurt both of them. And running away wouldn't get her what she wanted, which was Nick's love in return.

“Don't do that again,” he finally managed to say. Then he added a typical, “Please?”

“Okay.” Zee forced herself to relax and then sighed. It was the sound of surrender and also a confession. Was he listening? Did he care? Should she speak out and tell him her revelation?

“Zee?” he asked softly.

She held up a finger and closed her eyes. Her body had said it. Her actions had said it. Her very breath said it—wasn't it time to offer the words?
I love you.

“Nick . . .” Zee hesitated. Was this the moment for such a confession? Would he think it was just the magic talking?

“Let's just lay here a while,” he suggested, settling between her legs. “Maybe the feeling will go away.”

Zee heard herself moan as he pressed against her. She wanted him inside her. Maybe
that
would calm the insanity of feelings that had her weak and confused. She wanted Nick now. Fear was gone, and her desire was a fever. Her feelings for Nick made it unstoppable. She was already ravaged—why not be ravished? There would probably be consequences later, but why not let ecstasy have its way for now?

Instinctively, she pushed back, grinding against his erection. She was rewarded with pleasure coursing through her body.

“That isn't helping,” he said through gritted teeth.

“It would,” she answered, “if you undressed.”

Nick's breath caught and then he sighed with relief, apparently realizing that her resistance was truly gone.

“I don't know why you've changed your mind, but I'm so glad you have,” was all he said, then he bit the nape of her neck.

“I'll explain it all later,” she gasped, again finding it difficult to speak, this time for the shivers running through her body.

Nick lifted himself enough to undo his zipper, then shoved her skirt into the small of her back where it made a small pillow; Zee felt cool air rush over her legs and bottom. It was just one more caress, one more thing that made her moan. Then Nick returned, pressing his skin to hers, soft flesh to hard, penis to buttocks. Magic hummed between them, joyous and greedy. It urged them to completion.

His left arm curved under her, pulling her fully onto her knees and positioning her to his liking. Zee felt equal parts anticipation and vulnerability. She sensed that he was barely in control, and she suspected that he hadn't had the crazy desire in him softened by any realization about his feeling for her—if in fact he had any such softer feelings. He was reacting as would an animal, barely controlled. And he was stronger than she.

His shaft pressed against the soft folds that protected her core. Zee could feel a low throbbing in her loins, and thought it must be the pulse of her heart. She wanted him inside her where he could ease her need—now! Before she died.

Nick's hand slid lower, cupping her sex, easing a finger inside her. The base of it, his knuckle, found the small, delicate nub hidden in the soft folds that was already hardened with desire, and at the first touch she felt a small burst of sight-dimming pleasure. She felt her inner muscles clench.

“I am so glad that I paid attention in anatomy class,” Nick murmured with amusement.

Zee turned her head and bit his left biceps in passion. She had to stop herself from chomping down to the bone.

“Stop teasing,” she said through gritted teeth as she pulled her mouth away. “Please.”

“You're not ready,” he said.

“I am.”

“You're not—”

“I am, damn it! Nick, I mean it!” Zee thrust backward against him, and was pleased when he caught his breath.

“Have it your way.” And with a groan, Nick pulled her close and pressed into her.

Zee quickly discovered that he'd been right; she wasn't entirely ready. She was damp, but Nick was thick, hard, hot and inexorable. This wasn't like the first time. This penetration might leave her bruised. It might leave her insane if she wasn't consumed by the fires building inside her.

He thrust farther forward. It hurt, but she loved it. He was in her to the hilt and could go no deeper. Her nerves felt a hundred spears of joy as he started to move. They felt the infiltration of her swollen flesh by a foreign body, felt the coarse hair of Nick's thighs as it rubbed her aroused skin, felt his tightened scrotum pressing between her bare legs and touching the aroused nub of flesh he'd uncovered earlier. She could feel his ragged breathing, sense his hot breath as it stirred the hair on her nape. She felt it all and reveled.

Nick retreated and then retook lost ground, moving slowly but relentlessly. The internal stroking had her clenching muscles trying to hold him in place—trying to find just the right pace and position that would finally free her from the vise of desire that had her in its clutches and threatened to break her.

Sobbing, Zee reached down and pulled Nick's hand tighter against her hip. His deep stroking went on for a few more thrusts, and then tiny sparks ignited behind her eyelids and her desire went supernova. She cried out at the violent convulsion that shook her, barely aware of Nick's own cry as his control shattered and he, too, flew into the sun.

They collapsed onto the floor, but the deep, hard paroxysms continued for another long moment, and Zee could feel the contractions that pulled the seed from Nick's body and propelled it into her own. And thus the magic was appeased. This was what it had wanted. Zee was certain that she had just conceived a child. She would probably be terrified about that. Soon. For now, she was still too stunned by the storm.

“Zee?” Nick whispered, his voice yet rough but closer to the one she knew and trusted.

Zee finally regained her senses and some control of her body. Having achieved its goal, the magic was retreating. Only the smell of sex—and something else—remained sharp in the air. “I finally understand why the French call it the little death,” she whispered, feeling pleased that she could again form words. For a while, all she had managed were moans and cries, barely heard above the frantic pounding of her heart. Speech meant that she was again among the sane, again in control.

“There's nothing little about this.” Nick's voice was slightly louder but still ragged. He swallowed hard. When he completely regained his breath, he whispered into her ear, “Zee, please don't ever try to leave me again. This is as close as I ever want us to come to any kind of death.”

“What a way to go,” she joked, but it fell flat. Neither of them was feeling lighthearted. Zee sighed, and turned her head to kiss the arm she'd bitten. She was ashamed to see that she had drawn blood.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Nick asked after another minute passed. “You're right, you know. This proves it. It was the magic that brought us together. Not that I'm sorry! Believe me, I'm not. But it seems wrong—like we've been trapped in some great scheme not of our making. I hate that anything can have this much power over us. And from here on out, we have to be more careful about using a condom. Jack says that inside this mound is where fey conceive.”

Zee's chest tightened. His words hurt. Nick felt trapped?

She forced herself to exhale and curled into the warmth of his body. The lust fever had left her, and she felt cold. Should she tell him about what she suspected had happened? About the child? Should she even mention the word
love
when it was apparently not at all on his mind?

No. Clearly this wasn't the time to mention a possible pregnancy. Or her feelings. Zee began to shiver.

“Zee?” Nick pulled her close. His voice was warm with concern. “What's wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“I'm fine. It's just that I don't know what's right and what's wrong anymore. I don't know what to do,” she finally said. The urge to tell Nick of her feelings was still there, and it prodded her painfully, but she found herself unable to find voice. “All I know is that we have to stop Qasim. That's the most important thing.”

Nick nodded. “Yes. That's for sure. We have to stop him before he launches a war that no one can win. Everything else is secondary.”

Secondary
. Zee realized she didn't like being in second place.

Qasim stepped outside and inhaled deeply of the night air. He liked the Christmas season in the desert, with its smell of bonfires that carried for miles on the cold clean air; it reminded him of the last great plague, with its endless pyres fueled night and day by the disease-ridden corpses of his enemies. Those fires had kept the winter chill away when he was exiled from the hive and wandering on the outskirts of human civilization. He'd worried at the time about the safety of eating plague victims, but other than giving him a taste for raw eggplant with his bone marrow, he hadn't noticed any other particular change.

He took a seat on a rock and broke off a bit of mesquite tree. He began gnawing on it, sharpening his teeth. His tusks were growing back and they itched.

The children were all sleeping peacefully—all two hundred of them—tired after their long trek through the desert. They would go on sleeping until it was time for the sacrifice. Such a pity, because he would like for them to be awake, would like to be able to feed off their small minds. But spent sacrifices were not as powerful—the gods wanted meat, not vegetables, and so he couldn't deplete them before the event.

He was hungry, though—so hungry—and nothing he ate made the pangs go away. Rabbits, coyotes, snakes—nothing helped. He'd have to do something about that soon; his judgment tended to be flawed when he was starving, and it wouldn't do for him to make a mistake at this juncture. Especially not since he sensed that something important had just happened among the fey. There had been a shift in the magical field, and he felt the ripples even this far away. A new player had entered the game. Whether it was friend or foe Qasim couldn't say, only that it was something or someone powerful that would have to be factored into the equation.

In any event, the new party could not be allowed to interfere. Humans were easily distracted— especially these modern ones. So many were busy pursuing full-time addictions that they spent no time to build character; like wheat under the scythe, they fell before any storm. He wished he had some other choice of army.

Still, the rare human could be tenacious and very thorough. Look at the Old Testament—it was full of determined humans. Take Joshua and his vendetta against the port city of Tyre:

 

Now that was grand stuff! A bit repetitive maybe, but excellent. Of course, in the end it hadn't been Joshua who had overthrown the city. It was good old Nebuchadrezzar. Most people didn't know that the King of Kings had been a lycanthrope. It had taken the man thirteen years to bring down Tyre— probably because of losing so much time around the full moon. But Nebuchadrezzar had triumphed in the end, with his human armies. There had to be some of that strength left in the species. It just needed to be awoken and guided to holy purpose.

 

 

 

Her name was Zee of the Finvarra clan, and like her brother and sister and many cousins, she had been born during the dark of the moon on the shortest day of the year. But unlike the others of her mother's family, she had only one set of arms. She was lutin, but something more. And that incredible extra had always frightened her—now more than ever.

Something brushed again Zee's ankle, breaking in on her dark meditation. Startled, she looked down and found herself staring into the eyes of the cat. Chloe had said that it—Bastet, the cat was called— was somewhere in the shian, but that Zee and the children might not find her because she was a solitary animal and not at all fond of those of goblin blood. Yet here she was, the queen of elusive felines, sitting as straight as any pharaoh's tomb painting, one paw slightly extended in Zee's direction.

“Hullo, O Great Bastet,” Zee said quietly, not feeling at all strange addressing the cat formally.

Pretty little Zee
, a voice seemed to say.
Don't worry. You aren't at all like the other
.

“What?” she whispered, puzzled and suddenly slightly afraid. “What other?”

The cat blinked once, slowly, and then seemed to smile. She turned gracefully, allowing her body to again caress Zee's ankles, and then she disappeared into the garden without so much as a whisper of grass to mark her passage.

“Hello,” Nick said, settling down beside Zee. He took her hand. “Talking to yourself?”

“No, the cat,” Zee answered, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I think she was trying to encourage me, but I don't understand what she said.”