Masked Attraction (5 page)

“Daniel,” she panted. “I want you to…” She arched her hips toward him.

With any other woman it would be an unmistakable request. With Zoe, it became his imperative.

He slid a finger under the inset of her panties, directly onto her sex. She hissed through clenched teeth and arched, hard, driving his finger inside. He groaned. She was swollen, drenched, and so hot. She answered with a long, low moan and a wiggle.

Deep inside her scorching heat as she found her pleasure—exactly where he wanted to be. He began to caress her, long and slow. She rocked against his hand, seeking more. He responded with a second finger, stroking more firmly, faster, beginning to thrust and withdraw in rocking waves as old as the sea.

Under him, her skin began to dew. Her face flushed, and her ruby mouth parted, panting her rising excitement. A flush rose up her pretty round breasts, too, like thousands of blooming flowers. Her scent filled his nostrils, woodsy and hot, fiercer and wilder than any human…

Woodsy. Wild. The idea had almost intruded before, but then he was taking as much as he was giving. Now he was focused on giving alone, focused on her—and the thought broke through, arresting his fingers midstroke. Wild. Animal.
Magic.

It couldn’t be.

Of course it could. He wouldn’t have known the signs in high school. But he knew now, from his arcane classes at Nostradamus University. He opened his third eye on her, a brief glimpse on the ethereal. Sure enough, wild magic was in her aura. He clamped his ethereal eye shut.

Damn it, Zoe Blackwood was a
shifter
.

She howled her dismay. “Why’d you stop? You
can’t
stop.”

“Sorry.” Fortunately, while witches could recognize shifters, they couldn’t identify witches. She wouldn’t know he was a wizard. He started again, pushing the knowledge and implications from his mind, determined to give this woman who’d haunted his dreams an orgasm she’d never forget.

Since it would be the last time he could.

Chapter Four

Daniel thrust his fingers harder, plunged deeper. When Zoe moaned, he groaned at the sound. She responded so beautifully to him, he never wanted it to stop.

But he’d have to.

Frustration made his strokes almost brutal. Made him nip her naked exposed flesh, earlobes, neck and breasts, suck at her nipple like a wild animal.

She responded by clutching him to her so hard his ribs creaked. She took everything he had to give, and
she liked it
.

Lush, primitive heat filled him, power and strength and a sense of electrifying virility. With a snarl, he claimed her mouth and rode her sex with his hand until her eyes scrunched shut, her body trembling on the cusp of climax.

“You,” she panted. “You, too.”

“You first.”

He drove his tongue into her mouth and claimed her like a beast. She thrust both hands in his hair and came with a guttural cry.

Daniel stroked her savagely through it. Zoe whimpered, and her hips gave involuntary jerks as he reinforced the hard contractions with thrusts of his hand. She gasped, her eyes wide open and filled with stars.

Eventually, her lids slid shut, and she slumped against him, knees falling and feet thudding to the couch. He eased his hand from her and, careful not to crush her with his full weight, rested against her, his head between her breasts.

Under his ear, her heart gradually slowed. Her perspiration dried.

He was still hard as a rock, so aroused he pulsed with it. Wanted nothing more than to plunge into her wet heat. Winch her back to the top of that precipice. Sail off it, this time together.

Wasn’t happening. She was a
shifter.
Wolf, if he read the signs right. Sex with a shifter was taboo. Enforced by the Witches’ Council.

Penalty of death.

Even so, his need to have her,
to claim her,
almost drove him to risk it. Throw away all caution for one glimpse of heaven.

If he could be certain she really wanted him, too, he would have.

Problem was, he’d paid attention in his arcane classes. He was thirty-nine, and despite looking like twenty-five, Zoe was, too.

Which meant insta-mate by forty.

This hard, hot, explosive need for sex might not be Zoe’s choice. It might simply be her wolf forcing her to try every potential mate she came across. Daniel might defy the Council for himself. But for her sake, he reined hard against his terrible need.

Except…only another wolf would trigger her wolf’s response, right? His spirits rose. He wasn’t a wolf. Magic, yes, but magic users and creatures of magic were opposite sides of the coin.

The more he considered the idea, the more he liked it. Only another wolf, and probably an alpha, would have fired up her mating instinct…

Then he remembered he’d punched that jingling-medal asshole in the nose. Fighting over her, definitely an alpha’s action. He groaned. Her beautiful responsiveness to him, her immediate, wild need for him. Not really
him
at all. Just her wolf hormones reacting to the fight. Panting and raising its tail for the winner, the alpha male.

Nothing to do with Daniel, at all.

After all, she still thought he was a dork.

All that honor and pain was barely enough to push himself away from Zoe’s gorgeous body and off that couch. But he did, barely, standing on trembling legs and trying to straighten his clothes—until he made the mistake of looking down at her.

The sight of her full breasts, sleek thighs, and especially her satisfied sex outlined by the damp, clinging, silky panties, not only made his knees buckle, it made tucking himself away particularly painful.

Her eyes slit open in her mask, gleaming with fulfillment—and something more. Something warmer and softer and very happy with him. The look said, if he wanted, she’d welcome him inside her.

It was all he could do not to fall on her again and take her.
Make her mine.

He clenched his hands.
Forbidden
. More importantly, it had to be her choice, too. Her
human’s
choice, not her wolf’s instinct.

Despite all that, her warm invitation pulled at him. He trembled between the two forces—the death penalty, his resolve, and his wizard prince’s willpower on one side, only Zoe on the other. He took an involuntary step toward her.

He was going to do it, despite everything, unless he got out of there, fast. “I have an idea. How to find the key.”

A beat passed. She leaned up on one arm, her naked breasts swaying. “Don’t you want—”

“No.” He caught her flinch and amended, “Not yet. The key comes first.”

Her gaze was zeroed in on his pants, probably tented like the Great Pyramid. “Are you sure—”

“Absolutely.”
Not.
He locked onto her eyes. “Do you still have that napkin?”

Her brow wrinkled in question. “The one you gave me to wipe down these?” She sat up and her hands moved to her chest.

He looked. He had to.

He shouldn’t have.

She’d cupped herself, pressing her breasts together like pouting sisters. He wanted to kiss them both better and keep kissing until they smiled like twin suns.

Which wouldn’t find the key, but he was so far beyond caring, he didn’t even recognize himself. The family seer had predicted the Grand Crapyon of global disaster, annihilation of witchkind, yada yada. Didn’t matter squat with Zoe’s gorgeous breasts pouting at him.

“Ms. Blackwood?” A woman with bun and clipboard popped around the partition. “The orchestra’s ready to start…
sweet sex on a stick
.”

Daniel automatically moved to block the interloper’s view, but from her
Home Alone
gape, she’d apparently already seen everything. He glanced back at Zoe, hoping she wasn’t too embarrassed.

“Dorine, just a mo’.” Zoe straightened her dress and mask as if it was no big deal to be caught almost
in flagrante delicto
.

She’d never been body conscious, and now he knew why. Wolves were natural nudists. Rank conscious, yes, but not body conscious.

“Um…” The party planner swallowed visibly. “I’ll wait in the ballroom.” She edged back then spun and ran.

“I guess that let the cat out of the bag.” Zoe gave him a rueful look, and strangely, now she flushed, when being caught naked didn’t do it. “Take a rain check on that orgasm? As you heard from Ms. Newsflash, I have a ball to run.”

“You’re the Queen of Hearts. I already knew.”

She glanced away. “You always were so damned smart.”

“That wasn’t always a good thing.”

“No. But it was always an attractive thing.” Her gaze came back to him, and he read certainty and a touch of wistfulness there.

He blinked, hardly believing his ears. She’d been attracted to him then, even a little?

Holding up her bodice, she stood and presented her back to him. “Could you…?”

“Of course.” He zipped.

“Thanks.” Without looking at him, that strange color still riding her cheeks below her mask, she slipped on her shoes and started out.

“Zoe.”

She paused.

“I think giving this ball to promote romance is sweet. Kind.”

“You mean girly.” She twisted to toss him the napkin. “But thanks.”

She hadn’t asked what he intended to do to find the key, only trusted him to get the job done. As she always had. A smile lifted his lips.

Daniel waited until she was gone then pressed the napkin to his face. It smelled of jasmine and saffron perfume, the spilled drink, and that essential soft feminine scent that was Zoe herself. And, now that he knew what to pick out, the wilder component of scent that was her wolf.

He took the napkin from his face and stared at it. Now, he had exactly what he needed to find, not only the thief, but the key.

And to take the prize
, a small part of him whispered. To take the parchment for himself.

“Okay, Dorine, I’m here.” Zoe tamped down on her frustration at the interruption. Daniel had almost… But the woman was simply doing her job, after all.

“The orchestra.” The planner stared at her. “You’re going to speak with the director to start the dancing?”

“Yes. Something wrong?”

“Um, what’s up with your eyes?”

Zoe glanced into the walls of mirrors. Her pale green eyes had darkened, shading toward brilliant emerald.

Her mother’s
mated
color.

Zoe had to be seeing things. She lowered her lids. “Nothing.”

Had something excited her mating instinct, temporarily darkening the color?

Something—or
someone
.

Daniel?

No. Not a human. She wasn’t an alpha, but she was in the direct line of alphas, and her wolf was strong. She’d only mate another shifter.

Wouldn’t she?

Unless she was so close to the mating cusp that her wolf forced her to take the first male to give her an orgasm.

Would that be so bad?

Wistfulness filled her. Making a den, a family, with Daniel. With the boy who’d been sweet to her, with the strong, handsome man he had become…would it be so bad?

Well, yes. He was human; he’d reject her. It had happened before. No future to it.

So no more sex with Daniel. After all, she’d gone to a great deal of trouble to stage this masked ball. She wanted…no, she
needed
to experience
romantic
love, to remember what it felt like to connect, in heart and mind, before being consigned to a life of being ruled by bodily urges. Once mated to her one-and-only, she needed to recognize the traces of love when they occurred.
If
they occurred.

Mating without love was her biggest fear. She needed tonight to be able to convince herself that her mating, when it happened, was more than a jail built of lust.

No letting temporary urges overcome her, even for Daniel.

At least, not right this moment. First, she had to speak to the orchestra director. Then she
was
getting some romance.

Daniel considered the napkin. A basic Locate Object spell—which only worked on things, not living beings—was one of the first lessons taught to a young witch or wizard.

But he needed more than a simple
where
for Zoe’s key. He needed a
who
and
why
, because he suspected there was more to this than met the eye.

He suspected the key thief was another witch.

Certainly, the parchment was beautiful and valuable, but it wasn’t priceless—except to a witch, because of the Quatrain.

Therefore, his locater spell needed more finesse. So he called on the expertise of a witch princess who’d been top of her class at Nostradamus U, until she’d given up magic. He still didn’t know why.

He slid his earbud from his tux breast pocket and placed the phone call.

“What is it now, Daniel?” Sophia answered, sounding grumpy. She’d been grumpy ever since she’d left university and gone into the mundane sector.

He usually tried to jolly it out of her, make her laugh, as he had earlier this evening. Now he just said, “Had it ever occurred to you that banking might not have been the best choice for a witch?”

“Has it ever occurred to
you
to get reduction surgery for that nosiness?”

“We’re family,” he replied cheerfully. “I have a right to be as annoyingly intrusive as I want. And I need your help with a spell.”

“Daniel, you know I don’t do magic anymore.”

“Don’t, can’t, or won’t?”

“Can’t,” she admitted. “So, while I’d love to help you—”

“Help me form it, then.”

A pause. Then, she said, “What kind of spell?” She sounded grudgingly intrigued.

He hid a smile. He’d piqued her interest, reinforcing his notion she should never have given up magic in the first place.

Briefly, he wondered what that
can’t
meant. Nothing outside a quartet of council Enforcers could strip a witch of her powers. Unless Sophia had voluntarily done a complete Evacuate, unheard of for a multi-element princess. The legendary evil Burgot, rising from the past and sucking out her power, was more believable than a princess voluntarily giving up all that magic.

Daniel shook his head. Fodder for a future conversation. “I need a locater, but not a simple one. Not only a where, but a who and why.”

She groaned. “Why not throw in how and when? Daniel, a double Find is hard enough. You want a triple?”

Locater spells were like map directions, with a starting point, endpoint, and route. Adding another question was like creating another endpoint—plus routes between it and the original points. One question, one route. Two questions, three routes. Three questions, six routes.