Wicked Circle

CHAPTER TEN

As the assembled Cleveland pack members showed their enthusiasm by howling and applauding, Johnny struggled internally to keep his poise. Always before when he transformed, even for the few noncyclical complete changes, his beast had roused and paced within, growling, but safely caged.

Not this time.

This time, his inner wolf had burst into sentience with such intensity that all his previous transformations suddenly seemed semiconscious by comparison. Though his man-mind had remained, the instincts of the beast ambushed him, enveloped him in vehement desires so powerful he could barely keep the impulses from becoming actions.

It was so overwhelming that he’d willed an immediate reversion to human form.

The wolf had withdrawn into human flesh, but it did not slumber as before.

On the screen, the Rege called for silence. “Let us talk soon about the date of your coronation. I need to assess the schedule I have just inherited, but I would like to move forward with the ceremony sometime next month. I will make the announcement later today and, afterward, make arrangements for your press conference in Cleveland on Saturday afternoon.”

“Agreed.”

“My Lord.” The Rege gave a bowing nod and gestured. The screen faded out to the wolf rampant and shield, then faded to black.

Again the crowd howled. Gregor leaned into Johnny’s ear. “Someone was spotted coming up the steps. Kirk has gone to investigate.”

“Good. Where are my pants?” Johnny wanted nothing more than to vacate the room and have a few minutes alone to gather himself.

Gregor gestured and a valet hurried up with a long, thick robe. He held it open for Johnny.

Johnny didn’t budge. Rage boiled up inside him instantly—in his mind he knew he wasn’t even angry, but the rash, hot rage begged to be unleashed. His forearms itched. Only desperate resistance, like clenching some mystical muscle, kept his fingers from sprouting claws ready to slash Gregor for his mistake. “Dude. I said pants.” It was a struggle to keep his voice even.

Gregor snapped his fingers and the valet scurried away. “Forgive me. As you are confirmed now, I assumed a robe would be more . . . kingly.”

“I don’t wear robes,” Johnny snapped.

Gregor tipped his head. “It will not happen again.”

The crowd quieted into the white noise of happy chatter, and The Dirty Dog—the pack’s official bar—was mentioned repeatedly. Some were leaving already.

The valet hurried back with black denim jeans. Johnny grabbed them from him. “As long as I can still bend over and put my legs into my pants, I wear pants.” He wouldn’t admit that donning jeans in public felt distinctly undignified. “Besides, the new Rege didn’t call me king.”

“He won’t until after your coronation. But here, to your pack, you are king already.”

Johnny zipped the jeans. He wanted everyone gone. He wanted to be alone and get a grip on what was happening to him. He flung his arms up and shouted, “To The Dirty Dog!”

As expected, cheers rose and people converged on the exit. It was the quickest way to empty the room and buy himself a moment of privacy.

However, as the pack massed at the doorway, the air of the room shifted, and a distinctly not-wolf smell filled his nostrils again.

Red.

Johnny deserted Gregor, inexorably drawn to Persephone’s aroma. It always made him want her, but tonight, because he hadn’t seen her in days, her scent was new all over again. That newness made his reaction stronger. He was getting hard just thinking about touching her.

When she came into view, the wide neck of her sweatshirt slipped and his attention stuck on the pale skin of her bare shoulder. Her dark hair lay against soft flesh and he brushed the tendrils away and reached behind her neck. His fingertips buzzed with a vibration he knew was her energy—he’d never noticed this gentle and enticing sensation before.

Must be a perk of unlocking my tattoos.

She was always beautiful, but more so when all her skin was exposed and the smell of her sex mingled with his. Add this little electric feeling . . . if it was amplified when their bodies were entwined—God I can’t wait to fuck her. He leaned down for a kiss.

Shouts rumbled at the doors.

He turned.

Voices raised in complaint as someone pushed into the room, impeding the flow of those leaving the room. In a heartbeat, his top guard appeared, towing Zhan behind him by the arm.

“Guess who thought she could sneak into the den,” Kirk said as he approached. “An Offerling.”

Zhan said to Persephone, “You didn’t text.”

“There’s no reception in here. I tried. Johnny was in the middle of the ceremony, and I couldn’t ask for access to a landline to call. Sorry. But I did tell them to expect you.”

The distinct scent of ginger lingered around Zhan, with a hint of death sealed into the marks given her by Menessos. They all knew the Asian woman was Seph’s bodyguard—and that his own Asian guard had ulterior motives. “Let her go,” Johnny said.

Kirk gazed deeply into Zhan’s eyes. “What if I’d rather hold on?” His question was seductive and inviting.

“I don’t respect any man who won’t follow orders.” Zhan jerked free.

“I’m not after your respect, China Doll.”

Johnny smelled the desire radiating from both of them—even Zhan, though she would have denied it. He didn’t care if the Offerling seduced his guard or vice versa; he trusted Kirk not to reveal secrets that would get back to the vampire. What he did mind, however, was how their attraction fed his own urgency for sex.

“Red, this way.” Without delay, he led her from the room. Those still shuffling out paused to allow them through the doorway. The pack members were all heading down the stairwell to their cars, but he led Seph up the stairwell.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“You’ll see.” He was uncomfortably hard in his jeans. In an effort to counter this intense response, he asked, “How’s your mom?”

Seph groaned.

It wasn’t so different from the sounds she made when he was bedding her. “That good?” he asked. His voice sounded strangled even to him.

Seph didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah. Ask me again later. What’s this?” She patted the steel square to the left side of the stairwell.

“Gates. They run along the tracks,” he replied as he pointed at the metal track across the entry top. Then he pointed at the floor, where a similar track was embedded in the floor. “It’s like the barriers they use in shopping malls. The Omori just had it installed. We can seal off the floors individually if we need to.”

“Why would you need to?”

“The half-formed wæres, mostly. Just an extra security measure.”

He was climbing fast. She was keeping up, but she was panting with the effort. It resonated erotically in his ears.

“That was an impressive transformation,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? That’s it?”

He didn’t want to tell her how he was struggling with all that was new—Damn! The in signum amoris! He squeezed her hand. Red? Red, you hear me?

She didn’t answer him. He released her, hoping it wasn’t too abrupt. He was aware that he had to give her some kind of answer, but like a bad joke, her mom had actually given up her right arm in the process of unlocking his tattoos; he wouldn’t dare complain, but neither would he say anything that might make him sound ungrateful or imply that Eris’s sacrifice hadn’t garnered all they’d hoped for. “It felt easier. Much more fluid.”

Emerging onto the ninth floor, he guided her toward the small guest chamber at the rear of the hallway.

“It was your first change since breaking the binding,” Persephone added. “Did it feel more powerful to you?”

“Yeah.” He opened the door of the small studio apartment and hit the switch for the lights, twisting the knob to dim them. “I guess.” He opened the door wider so she could enter.

“You guess? I was out in the hallway and I felt it.”

“Really?” Instead of letting her acquaint herself with the space, as soon as he shut the door, he seized her and held her against him. “I’ve got something else I want you to feel.” He pressed his lips to hers roughly. “God, I missed you.”

Seph kissed him back and buried her fingers in his hair.

It felt like he hadn’t seen her in months, not mere days. His body thrummed with energy and ached for a release.

His tongue pressed between her lips, and he wished it was another part of his body. Her lip gloss tasted like sweet berries. He reached under the sweatshirt, pushing up tank tops to touch her skin.

That enticing resonance played across his fingers again, dripping into his palm and rippling through his body.

“Mmmm. I missed you too,” she said, arms winding around his neck. Effortlessly, she hoisted herself up and wrapped her legs around him.

He carried her toward the bed in the corner and she wriggled just before he heard the thud of her shoes dropping to the floor. He laid her on the mattress and, beyond the want or need of foreplay, unfastened her jeans. She made no protest as he tore her panties and jeans away in one motion. Seph tugged her shirts over her head exposing braless breasts.

A growl rumbled up from his chest as he pushed off the pants he’d put on only minutes before, and his erection was no longer confined.

Unable to resist, he bent to kiss her breasts, to fondle and taste her—because he could. Everywhere their flesh touched, he burned, burned as if his skin had been rubbed raw and was extraordinarily sensitive—yet without any pain.

He had to be inside of her, right now. He groaned in desire as her wet warmth embraced him. It was almost too much. He reined his urgency back, using shallow, controlled strokes.

Seph gyrated under him and laced her fingers in his hair. “No,” she said, her smooth thighs squeezing around him. “All of it.”

He thrust deep. She moaned in approval, and part of him wished she would struggle a little, just enough to make dominating her a sweeter victory. He arched his back, gave her an extra-hard thrust. Then again. And again. The breathy uh-uh-uh sounds could have been the whimpering struggles of a subdued quarry. . . .

“Don’t stop.”

Don’t command me. He stopped.

She ground her hips against him. “Johnny.”

“What?” He pulled out of her. His tongue flicked up her neck. He nibbled on her ear.

“Johnny. More. Please.”

He was in control. Not her.

“Please . . . please . . .”

The soft pleading hit him like a hard-core turn-on. He pounded into her, fucking her until he felt a fluttering energy sweep over his naked backside like an ethereal wind. She clawed him, crying out.

As she quieted, he felt her body relax into blissful serenity, and she lay, panting, but he wasn’t done. It felt so good.

My turn.

His pace slowed. His fingers skimmed along her arm, lifted it slowly, gently, until her elbow bent as if she were touching her shoulder. Gently, he repeated this gesture with her other arm. Holding her wrists there, he pushed up. His weight kept her pinned to the bed.

He watched her, concentrating on what she was feeling. Her breasts rocked with his thrusts. Hot. Beautiful. Sexy.

Lowering himself to his elbows, he nibbled at her neck in small, teasing bites. The altered position changed the angle. She reacted with a lusty moan, her legs encircling him. She met his thrusts impatiently. He had her and he knew it. All he had to do was swivel his hips a little. . . .

Seph trembled and squeezed her legs tighter around him. The ghostly energy caressed him again and she cried out.

Instinctively, his mouth opened wide on her throat. With his teeth, he could feel every little movement she made. Her pleasure vibrated on his tongue.

His jaws closed a fraction.

Beneath him, Persephone’s body became more rigid.

She was still climaxing, but instead of wordless ecstasy, she called his name with both pleasure and fear in her tone.

The scent of fear blossomed on her skin. Johnny’s teeth closed another fraction—

What the hell am I doing?

He went utterly still, then kissed up her neck to her ear where he whispered, “You on top.” He rolled, switching their positions. Now submissively posed, he splayed his fingers across her buttocks, urged her to action. Persephone needed little encouragement.

He could already tell her fear had evaporated. And that anger had replaced it. She grabbed his wrists and put his arms into much the same position he’d held hers in.

He let her have control as she rode him. He savored the feeling of her strong thighs flexing and her hips grinding as she sought another orgasm.

When the sensation crept over him, he didn’t deny the release another moment.