Obsidian Flame (Guardians of Ascension #5)(19)
Author: Caris Roane

“Diallo gave this place to me for the night. I don’t recall him saying anything about you.”

His smile broadened. Was she starting that game? It was one of his favorites, and she had a look on her face that said maybe she was.

“Let me in, Marguerite.” He used his resonance, a low number, only three.

He heard her soft intake of breath but still wasn’t surprised that she replied, “Not gonna happen.”

He split his resonance five times. “I said let me in.” He wanted in, all the way in, and not in the form of José or anyone else.

The rest of the night was his.

* * *

Marguerite held her ground because the longer she did, the more Thorne would get worked up—and she loved seeing him get worked up. She was in the right mood, as well, though she wasn’t certain why. She’d already been with a man, but this was different. This was Thorne, and she knew him really well. And she’d always loved the way he’d taken care of her when she had need of him. Besides, he wouldn’t kick her out of bed when he was through. He’d hold her, and tonight she might even like that.

Ever since they’d touched down in this strange secret ascender colony, she’d felt as though something called to her, something deep within, tugging at places in her heart she’d never quite known before. She felt unsettled, knocked out of stride, and she was never knocked out of stride. Pissed off, maybe, but she always knew what she wanted, where she wanted to go, and who she wanted between her legs.

“I can’t let you in tonight, Thorne, you know that,” she teased. “We’re done, remember? You got me out of the Superstition Fortress then I left Endelle’s office and now I’m here but only because of a stupid Seer’s vision. But you can sleep on the porch if you want.”

The scent of cherry tobacco sifted through the screen mesh. Her nostrils flared, intent apparently on catching every last bit. Sweet Lord in heaven, but that smell he gave off when he was thinking impure thoughts about her sure worked some magic down low. She started feeling tight and achy.

A faint growl sounded and Thorne caught the small handle and started to pull. Fortunately, there was a handle on the inside so she pulled back. The nice thing about being an ascended vampire was the simple fact that you got some overall strength without having to weight-lift. So she held tight.

Of course, it was only an illusion. The man could incinerate the screen with a lift of his palm. He had serious hand-blast capacity. He was also built as hell so that the whole time she’d been looking at the side mounds of his pecs that weren’t covered by his weapons harness. She wanted her hands on him, then her lips.

Thorne tugged on the door again. “Let me in, Marguerite.” More resonance. She felt light-headed and couldn’t quite breathe. That had to be seven resonances. The man had a gift. When he worked up to fifteen and spoke straight into her ear, he could make her come so fast. He was some kind of magician, real Merlinesque, the bastard.

The thing was, of all the men she’d ever known in her life, she trusted Thorne, even when he slipped into caveman mode.

He tugged harder on the door. She had a slight advantage because of the doorjamb so she held on to the handle and leaned back, letting her weight work for her.

Then he began to pull in earnest. Even in the faint glow of the oil lamp she’d lit, she could see his biceps tightening up and swelling into the most gorgeous heap of man-muscle. She wanted to bite down on that hard, feel him jerk underneath her.

He kept pulling and he pulled her with him. She just held on to the handle as her feet slid onto the porch. The whole time, her gaze stayed fixed like an idiot straight on that muscle.

She was such a basic female. She loved a man’s body, as in loved it, every facet and bulge and dip and firm jut. This was her weakness, all Thorne’s physical strength, and the fact that he made war. What did it say about her that even though he was grimy with sweat and blood from the recent battle, she didn’t care? She never had. Not once in the last hundred years. From the first she’d been able to accept who and what he was, a Warrior of the Blood, a protector of Second Society, a destroyer of death vampires.

And right now, God forgive her, he was hers and she was going to take him.

“Looks like I’m coming in.”

She smiled. His voice was a damn gravel pit. Still, she said, “Forget it, Warrior. Not a chance.” But his arm was around her waist and now he dragged her against him. He’d have to repair the screen tomorrow because it hung off its leather-strap hinges.

His mouth was as familiar to her as her reflection in the mirror. She knew his lips, every millimeter. His tongue was thick and he worked it now, in and out of her mouth, making beautiful promises of everything he would do to her … as long as she didn’t have another one of those stupid visions.

The memory of the vision, of how it had crashed down on her, rendering her blind and mute while it held her captive, caused her to stiffen, even to ignore that beautiful tongue.

Thorne drew back, slid his hand to the nape of her neck, and caressed her gently. “Hey,” he whispered. “What gives? You just became an ironing board in my arms.”

She pulled away from him and went into the house. Sweet Christ, she never pulled away like that.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why did I have that vision? I don’t get it.” An oil lamp on the narrow wooden table by the wall lit the room in a soft glow. She crossed to the brown leather couch and curled up. She hadn’t mean to end the moment, but she needed some answers.

He followed her into the cabin and closed the door. He pulled the surprisingly nice linen over the wide bank of windows that faced the street.

He remained by the window, popped his cadroen, and took a few deep breaths. His kilt was lumpish. She’d kind of stalled out at the wrong time.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” she said.

He shrugged but smiled and bent over. “Damn, you work me up.”

She heard him chuckling and watched all that thick hair fall forward.

After a moment, he lifted back up and met her gaze, but he was somber this time. “I think it’s simple. You have emerging powers and it’s no f**king picnic. But there’s something else I need to tell you. Diallo and I believe that Stannett is behind this attack. He’s powerful enough to disrupt the colony’s mist.”

At that, her body jerked. “Stannett and death vampires?”

“Why not? The man’s desperate. We believe he was after the Seers who live here.”