Spellbound by Sylvia Day.

Summary:

Max Westin. Sex incarnate. She could smell it, feel it with his proximity. Everything about him was a little rough, a little gritty. A primitive creature. Just like she was.

He held her hand a little too long, his thickly-lashed gaze clearly stating his intentions to have her. To tame her…

“Victoria.”

Her name, just one word, but spoken with such possession she could almost feel the collar around her neck.

“It’s in your nature,” he murmured. “The desire to be taken.”

One

The Hunter had finally arrived.

Victoria studied him carefully through the closed-circuit feed that monitored her office reception area. The urbane Armani suit he wore did nothing to hide the predator within. Tall and dark, the Hunter moved with a casual arrogance that made her purr. He didn’t look around, completely focused on the moment when they would be together in the same room. Alone.

As she rubbed her hands together, a throaty growl filled the air. The High Council was ready to tangle with her again. She smiled and preened, as was the nature of her kind. This Hunter was powerful, she could feel it even through the walls that separated them.

It was a testament to her own prowess that They would send a warlock such as him after her. She couldn’t help but be flattered. After all, she’d broken the laws on purpose, deliberately goading the very powers that had stolen Darius from her. And here was her “punishment,” walking into her office with that luscious, long-legged stride. She couldn’t be more thrilled with their choice.

He flashed a devastating smile at the receptionist before she closed the door behind him. Then he turned his attention to Victoria and removed his sunglasses.

Oh my.

She crossed her silk-stocking-clad legs to ease the sudden ache between them.

Piercing gray eyes measured her from a face so austerely handsome she was almost inclined to leave her seat and rub up against him. That firm jaw . . . those sculpted lips . . .

But, of course, she couldn’t. She first had to see if he would reveal who he was or if he intended to pretend. The High Council still hadn’t realized how much power Darius had bequeathed her. They didn’t yet realize how deeply her awareness went.

Her gaze moved to the crystal-framed miniature on her desk and the man with the rakish dimple who smiled lovingly from there. Captured beautifully in oil paints, glints of gold shining in his blond hair, the sight of Darius brought a familiar ache of loss and heartache that firmed her resolve. The waste of his life filled her with a need for retribution.

Rising to her feet, Victoria held out her hand. The Hunter took it leisurely, the palpable force in his touch betraying him.

“Mr. Westin,” she breathed, fighting back a delicious shiver. She would have to thank the Council for this gift when she was done with him. He was so dark—his skin, his raven hair, his aura. Sex incarnate. She could smell it, feel it with his proximity. It was obvious why he was a successful Hunter. Already she was wet and eager.

Max Westin held her hand a little too long, his thickly lashed gaze clearly stating his intentions to have her, to tame her. Like all kittens, Victoria liked to play, so she brushed her fingertips across his palm as she pulled away. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, a tiny sign that she could get to him if she really put the effort into it.

Of course, she intended to do just that. The Council only sent Their best, most prized Hunters after her, and she knew how it chaffed Them when Their elite met with abject failure. It was the only thing she could do to prevent feeling helpless—give Them a harsh reminder of how great Darius had been, and what They’d lost with his needless sacrifice.

“Ms. St. John.” Westin’s voice was a rough caress. Everything about him was a little rough, a little gritty. A primitive creature. Just like she was.

Victoria waved toward the chair in front of her glass-topped desk. Freeing the button of his coat, Max sank into the seat, his dark blue trousers stretching over firm thighs and an impressive bulge between them.

She licked her lips. Yum . . .

One side of his mouth curved in a knowing smile. Max Westin was well aware of how irresistible he was, which made him irresistible to her. Confidence was a quality she held in high esteem. So was a touch of wickedness, and Westin definitely had that. That dark aura betrayed the edges of black magic he skirted. She doubted the Council had any better leash on him than They had on her.

Liking him immensely already, Victoria sank into her own chair, arranging her legs beneath her black pencil skirt to show them to best advantage.

“The museum offers its sincere apologies for the loss of your necklace,” he began.

Her smile widened. He wasn’t going to tell her who he was. How delicious. “You don’t look like the curator type to me, Mr. Westin.”

“I’m here on behalf of the museum’s insurance company. Obviously a loss of this magnitude requires an investigation.”

“That’s reassuring, of course.”

Observing him through the veil of her lashes, Victoria noted the energy that betrayed his restless nature. His firm, full lips hinted at sinful delights. She liked sinful, energetic men. This one was a bit rigid for her tastes, but that could change with the right persuasion. They all succumbed eventually. It was the only part of the game that disappointed her—the surrender.

“You seem remarkably at ease,” Westin murmured, “for a woman who’s just lost a priceless piece of jewelry.”

Victoria’s toes curled. His voice was so deep and slightly husky, like he just rolled out of bed. It was scrumptious, like the rest of him. He was so broad shouldered, yet lean, every movement he made a graceful ripple of honed muscle.

“Fretting won’t accomplish anything,” she said with a careless shrug. “Besides, you are here to find the necklace and you look . . . capable. What is there to worry about?”

“That I won’t recover it. Your trust in my abilities is flattering, Ms. St. John, and not misplaced. I’m very good at what I do. However, sometimes things are not what they seem.”

It was a warning, plain and simple.

Thoughtful, she stood and walked to the wall of windows behind her desk. Despite having her back to him, Victoria felt the heat of his gaze caressing the length of her. She fingered the pearls that graced her neck and stared out over the city skyline. “If need be, I’ll simply acquire another. Everything can be purchased for a price, Mr. Westin.”

“Not everything.”

Intrigued, Victoria turned, surprised to find him approaching. He took a position next to her, his gaze on the view, but his attention fully focused on her. She felt the shimmer of his power sweep over her, searching for her weaknesses.

Unable to resist the danger, she rubbed her shoulder against him and inhaled the rich, masculine scent of his skin—a mixture of thousand-dollar cologne and pure Max Westin. Her breathing became shallow, her heart rate picked up. Losing her perspective, Victoria moved away. It had been a long time since she’d indulged in a powerful man. Too long. The other Hunters had been crafty and seductive. Westin had that and pure magical muscle.

“Max,” she called softly, hurrying their familiarity by using his first name.

“Hmm?”

She looked over her shoulder. He was following her. Stalking her. Reminding her that he was the predator here.

Oh, he could be fun. If he wanted to play.

“Have dinner with me.”

“My place,” he agreed.

She moved to the wet bar and retrieved two glass bottles of milk, a deliberate choice that showed her cognizance. Certainly he knew how she worked. But did he know why?

Did Westin know that with Darius’s dying breath he had transferred his magic to her, making her far more powerful than the average Familiar? Did Westin know that she’d been loved by her warlock, and that it was that love which gave her the ability to make her own choices now?

Before Darius’s gift, she had been like other Familiars. The High Council assigned the pairings between her kind and their magical counterparts, regardless of their wishes. Some Familiars were unhappy with their partners. She had been lucky the first time, finding a love for Darius that transcended time. Now, because of that love, she was too powerful to be taken against her will. In the two centuries since she’d lost him, no other warlock had succeeded in collaring her. Westin would fare no better. She had loved once, and deeply. There would never be another warlock for her.

Swaying her hips and offering a seductive smile, she returned to him. “How about my place?”

“No.” He took the bottle from her outstretched hand, his fingers deliberately curling over hers and staying there. Pinning her in place. “Victoria.”

Her name, just one word, but spoken with such possession she could almost feel the collar around her neck. Hunters did not keep Familiars, they caught them and passed them on to lesser warlocks. She would never allow herself to be distributed in that manner again.

So they stood, touching, sizing each other up. She tilted her head and allowed her interest to show, not that she could hide it with her nipples hard and obvious beneath her green silk shirt. Her chest rose and fell with near panting breaths, her blood heating from both his proximity and his darkly seductive scent. He was so tall, so hard, so intense. Only the silky lock of dark hair that draped his brow softened his purely masculine features. If he weren’t a Hunter, she’d be crawling all over him, she wanted him that badly.

As his gaze dropped to the swell of her breasts, his mouth curved in a carnal smile. “I bet I’m the better cook,” he rasped softly, his fingers stroking hers, sending sparks of awareness through her.

She pouted. “You won’t know if you don’t come over.”

He pulled away, his charm vanishing in an instant. “My place or I’ll have to decline.”

Victoria wished she were in her feline form so she could flick her tail at him. Max Westin was most definitely accustomed to getting what he wanted. He was a Dominant, as were all Hunters. Too bad she was, too.

“A pity.” And she meant it, her disappointment was painful. His place was not an option. Who knew what spells he’d cast there? And what toys he had . . . ? It would be akin to walking into a cage.

She ignored the thrill the thought gave her.

“You changed your mind?” His surprise was a tangible thing.

The man definitely didn’t hear “no” often enough.

“I asked you to dinner, Mr. Westin, and you placed restrictions on the invitation.” She waved her hand toward the door in a gesture of dismissal designed to rile him. “I don’t tolerate restrictions.”

A return warning to him.

When he made no move to leave, she purred aloud, a soft rumbling sound that made the muscle in his jaw tic.

So . . . the raging attraction was reciprocated. That made her feel slightly better about waiting longer to have him.

With calm, deliberate movements, Westin lifted the bottle and drank, the working muscles of his throat making her mouth dry. The implied threat in his actions was not lost on her.

Then he set the empty container on the edge of her desk and came toward her, buttoning his coat before clasping her hand. His touch burned, even though his skin was cold and wet with condensation. His gaze was as icy as his grip. He’d regroup and come back, she knew.

And she’d be waiting.

Victoria brushed her fingers across his palm again before releasing him. “See you soon, Max.”

Max stepped out of the St. John Hotel and cursed vehemently. Gritting his teeth, he fought off the erection that threatened to embarrass him on the crowded sidewalk.

Victoria St. John was trouble.

He’d known that the moment the Council had summoned him. Taming ferals was a task for lesser, newer warlocks. The request had startled him at first, and then intrigued him. When he’d met his prey, however, he understood.

Sly and playful, Victoria moved with the natural grace of a cat. Short black hair and tip-tilted green eyes made her a heady temptation. He’d seen her picture a hundred times and felt nothing more than simple appreciation for a beautiful face. In person, however, Victoria was devastating, all sensuality and heat. She was a bit thin for his tastes, more lithe than curvy, but those legs . . . Those impossibly long legs . . . Soon they would be wrapped around his hips while he stroked his cock deep into her. But it wouldn’t be easy. She made that clear with her smile.

She knew who and what he was, which meant the rumors of her power were true. She was no ordinary Familiar.

He shook his head. Darius had been a fool. Familiars needed the strong hand of a warlock or they turned feral. Victoria was a prime example. She was already too wild, defying the High Council at every turn.

She’d also defied him.

Both intrigued and attracted, Max mentally ran through the information he’d gathered before approaching her. Victoria was one of the most prominent figures of their kind, her shrewd business dealings taking her from franchising a motel to owning one of the largest chains of upscale hotels in the country. Up until the death of her warlock, she’d been an esteemed member of the magical community. Her wildness since Darius’s passing solidified the Council’s position that it was best if the pairings were made with mental calculation, rather than through affairs of the heart. Occasionally, love grew anyway such as happened to Victoria, but this was far rarer with Council intervention.

Max rounded the corner and stepped into a side alley. Using his powers, he bridged the distance across town to his penthouse apartment in the blink of an eye. There he paced the acid-washed cement floors restlessly, every nerve on edge. He had no doubt Victoria St. John had stolen her own necklace. It would have been impossible for a human to accomplish the theft.

The museum’s security was too advanced. Victoria had done it knowing the brazenness of the act would bring another Hunter after her. The Council worked tirelessly to keep the existence of their kind hidden from humans. Her reckless disregard of their laws had to be stopped before they were revealed.

But why was she acting this way? That was what he didn’t understand. There had to be a reason beyond lacking a warlock. She was too self-possessed, too calculated. Yes, she needed some reining in, but she wasn’t out of control. Before he released her, he was determined to find out what her motivation was.

Exhaling harshly, Max looked around his home, a sprawling loft cloaked in silence and protection spells. The soft gray walls and dark armless sofas had been called cold and barren by some of his subs, but he found the decor soothing, absorbing the energy of the place with the ease of breathing. It would have been simpler to tame her here, where all the tools of his trade were available for his use. But even as he thought this, he realized something different would be required in order to succeed where others had failed.

Collaring Victoria would take a unique approach. Her power was augmented in some way, he’d felt the charge she carried with more than a little surprise. It explained how she had managed to avoid capture all these years. He would have to take her, not just sexually, but in every way. She had to be dominated, as all good Familiars were, but he would have to make her want it. She would have to willingly submit—body and soul—in order for the collar to appear, since her powers prevented the usual collaring without consent.

As Max thought of all the things he would do to her, magic coursed through his blood in a heated wave. He couldn’t deny how the thought of the taming ahead filled him with anticipation. Not of the task, as he was used to in his private hours, but for the woman upon whom he would work. Just the thought of Victoria’s total submission made every muscle in his body harden. All that fire he saw in her eyes, and her careless disregard of how powerful he was—not from ignorance, but for the thrill of the game. For the first time, there was a remote possibility of failure and that whetted his appetite like nothing else ever had.

Max wondered who she’d be assigned to once he finished with her. She would always be stronger than other Familiars, and he refused to break her. A broken Familiar lacked the vitality necessary to be truly helpful.

The hair on his nape prickled with awareness, warning him of the summons before They spoke.

Have you met with the feral? the Council asked. Hundreds of voices speaking in unison.

“She’s not feral,” he corrected. “Not yet.”

She cannot be tamed. Many have tried. Many have failed.

He stilled, wary. “You asked me to capture her. That is what I agreed to. I won’t kill her without trying first. If it’s an assassination you want, you’ll have to find someone else.”

There is no other Hunter with your power, They complained. You know this.

“So allow me to make an attempt to save her. She’s unique. It would be a waste to lose her.” Running a hand through his hair, Max blew out his breath. “I will do what is necessary if it comes to that.”

We accept your suggestion.

He should have felt reassured by that. But he didn’t. “Have you decided where I’m to take her once she’s been tamed?”

Of course.

His jaw clenched at the vague answer, the flare of possessiveness unwanted, but there nevertheless. The Dom/sub relationship was unique to each pairing and required a depth of trust not easily passed to another individual. This would be the first time he attempted it, and he wasn’t certain he was comfortable with the idea. “Go, then. Leave me to plan.”

As the evanescent presence of the Council faded away, the urge to summon Victoria with his power and begin the taming immediately was strong. But he tempered it. His eagerness was ill-placed and inconvenient. He loved hunting, relished the taming, but was not prone to hurrying matters. A proper domination took time, something the visit from the Council told him he didn’t have. He had several weeks, at most.

Max growled as his cock hardened in anticipation. Weeks with Victoria.

He was ready to get started.

Two

Restless and edgy, Victoria twirled the sapphire and diamond necklace she’d stolen from the museum around her finger, and wondered if she had finally pushed the High Council too far. A little research into Max Westin had revealed that his usual prey was not their kind, but the Others, those who had crossed over into black magic and could not be saved. He was credited with saving thousands by destroying the few who would wreak havoc with their evil.

The knowledge filled her with concern. Was she now an Other? Considering that Max was rarely sent after anything the Council didn’t want dead, it would seem she was. He was a legend, a hero, and on the verge of promotion to the Council. She would have known this had she been an active member of their community instead of an outcast. Which left her with a question she’d spent years trying to answer—was her end goal to die? Did she in truth have a death wish now that Darius was gone? She was strong enough to fight off the collar, but she wasn’t strong enough to fight off a warlock of Max’s considerable power. And yet she had deliberately goaded his pursuit.

Troubled by the direction of her thoughts, she did what she always did—turned her focus to action, rather than reaction. Since she could not go toe-to-toe with Max and win, she would have to get to him another way.

She would have to seduce him, make him care for her. It was fitting that doing so would be a cruel blow to the Council. It would, in fact, be the ultimate revenge. The Council so rarely promoted anyone. In fact, the last to be so honored had been Darius, and he had refused Them because it would have meant losing her. Rejecting the safety of distant command, he had remained a foot soldier and They had punished him with the most brutal assignments. Leading to his death. The Council would regret that, she would ensure it.

She couldn’t wait to get started.

Damn Max Westin for being so stubborn! If he’d come to dinner like she wanted, she could be rubbing against that beautiful male body now. She could be licking his skin, nipping his flesh, fucking his brains out.

Avenging her beloved Darius the only way she knew how.

Max was the perfect Hunter with which to goad the Council. Victoria could picture him easily, tied to her bed and prone for her pleasure. All that rippling muscle and voluptuous power. The Council’s golden warlock snared by his own trap.

She blew out her breath, the sudden pang of guilt too disturbing to contemplate. Standing, Victoria loosened the buttons of her sleeveless satin pajama top. She prepared to alter to her feline form when the sound of the doorbell stopped her. Padding leisurely across the golden hardwood floor, she sniffed the air.

Max.

Unexpected pleasure warmed her blood.

Opening the door, she was rendered speechless for a moment. In Armani, Max Westin had been devastating. Now, dressed in low-slung jeans and a fitted t-shirt, his feet bared in leather sandals, he was . . . He was . . .

She purred, the soft vibration filling the air between them with lush promise.

Sneaky bastard. He knew her natural instinct at the sight of his bare feet would be to alter form and rub against them, circling his legs in a blatant display of her willingness. Fighting her very nature, Victoria lifted her arm and leaned against the door jam. Her shirt spread with the pose, revealing her tummy and the under curve of her breast. He shot a brief assessing glance at her display, and then brushed her aside, entering her home like he had every right to do so.

As he crossed to the kitchen with a paper grocery bag in his arms, the candles she had spread around the room flared to life in his wake. The stereo came on, releasing a cacophony of garbled reception before coming to a halt on a classical station. The rich sounds of stringed instruments flooded the room, swelling upward through the exposed ductwork ceiling of her contemporary apartment, setting the stage for what she knew would be a memorable night.

She followed him to the kitchen, where he set the bag on the counter and began to withdraw its contents. Behind him, a pan was magically freed from the overhanging pot rack and settled on the stove.

“The warlock reveals himself,” she said softly.

Max smiled. “I am exactly who I said I was.”

“An insurance fraud investigator. I checked you out.”

“I’ve recovered on every case.”

“So I learned,” she said drily. “You’re determined to save the world from evildoers, both magical and otherwise.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” he challenged softly. “Once, you did the same.”

He pulled out a pint of organic cream, and she licked her lips. Perceptive, as all Hunters were, he beckoned a bowl from the cupboard with a flick of his wrist and poured her a ration. Victoria freed the last button on her shirt. A moment later, it and her drawstring pants were pooled on the marble kitchen floor. She waited a second longer, giving him a quick glimpse of what he’d get his fill of later, and then altered shape. With a fluid spring of her feline legs, she made the high leap to the butcher-block counter and crouched over the bowl.

Max ran his hand over her soft black fur. “You’re beautiful, kitten,” he rumbled in his delicious voice.

She purred in reply.

As she lapped up the cream, Victoria curled her tail around his wrist. His large hand dwarfed her, but she felt safe with him, unusual for an uncollared Familiar around a warlock who lacked a guide.

Hunters were the most powerful of magicians and didn’t need the augmentation Familiars provided. They kept the magical world clean, tracking down and dealing with any deviants who fought the command of the High Council.

Others like her.

The blunt tips of his fingers found the spots behind her ears and rubbed. She melted into the countertop.

“Let me finish dinner,” he murmured. “And then we’ll play.”

Max turned away to tend the stove, and she fought the urge to go to him. She lay on the countertop, her chin on her paws watching the muscles of his upper back flex as he chopped vegetables and seared fish. Studying him, she noted the ebony hair that shined with vitality and the firm, proud curve of his ass. She sighed.

She missed having a steady man in her life. Lately the loneliness seemed worse than ever, and she blamed the Council for that. They should have waited until a second witch or warlock/Familiar pairing could have joined them against the Triumvirate, but They failed to temper their eagerness. Unwilling to fail in so important a task, Darius had lost his life in order to succeed. And she had lost her soul mate.

With her heart weighing heavily, Victoria jumped to the floor and circled Max’s feet, purring and preening to win his attention. He was, astonishingly, too busy taking care of her to have meaningless sex with her. Too busy cooking for her, and soothing her with music and candlelight.

Her weary soul soaked up the attention greedily.

Moving through eternity without a partner was taking its toll. She couldn’t date humans, and she was exiled from her community. There was no one to wait for her or worry about her.

Her work was fulfilling and her success a source of deep pride, but often she wished she could curl up on the couch with a man who cared about her. Loved her. Max was not that man, but he was the first of all the warlocks sent after her who took the time to woo her. Part of her appreciated his efforts. The other part of her understood that he had ulterior motives.

So she wooed him right back, rubbing against his powerful calves with soft, tantalizing purrs.

The road to failure began thusly with all her Hunters. She promised them delight with every brush against their legs, her pheromones scenting the air until they were mad to have her. Due to Darius’s gift, she was able to alter her scent from one of submission to one of carnal demand, a primitive challenge to a Hunter’s need to be dominant. In effect, a waving red cape to a raging bull.

“It’s not so bad,” Max soothed in a tone that made her spine arch in pleasure. “There is joy in submission.”

Piqued that he remained so casually unaffected, Victoria sauntered away, her tail held high and her head lifted proudly.

Submission. She wasn’t suited to it. She was far too strong-willed, far too independent to bow to a man’s demands. Darius had known this. He had accepted it, and made exceptions for her so they could live in harmony.

Victoria altered form, and sprawled on the couch naked. From his position in the kitchen, Max had only to turn around and he could see her. His self-control disturbed her, as did the quiet air of command and the steely determination in those gray eyes. He was not a man to be led around by his dick.

She sighed, and waited for him to come to her. No man or warlock could long resist a naked, prone, and willing woman.

Leaning heavily into the counter, Max stared down at the cutting board and exhaled his frustration. At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to show the beautifully bared woman on the couch all the things he could do to her. For her. It took far more restraint than he was used to exerting to prevent tossing the knife into the sink and doing exactly that. A hard, heavy fucking would help her forget, for a while, the sorrow he felt in her.

His eyes closed as he focused on that faint hint of sadness. The bond between Familiar and warlock always began with this tiny thread of awareness. It was early, too early, for the connection to be there, but it was. There was not enough of it yet to discern the cause of her unhappiness, but Max knew it was not a new distress. She’d carried it for some time.

Strangely, it was that deeper knowledge of her that attracted him now. More so than her beauty. Lust goaded by tenderness was a new sensation for him, one he savored slowly, as he would the first taste of a fine wine. Soft and mellow, it heated his blood just as liquor would.

As he continued to cook, he held on to the feel of his kitten, fostering the bond that he would use to bring her in from the fringes and back into the fold.

“Dinner’s ready,” he called out after a time.

Victoria stared up at the ceiling and wondered how Max could be so indifferent to her brazen offering of sex. Petulant, she said, “I want to eat in here.”

“Suit yourself,” he answered easily. She heard one of the dining chairs pulled away from the table, and a moment later the clink of silverware against china. Mouth agape, she bolted upright.

“Ummm . . . ” Max’s deep hum of enjoyment made goose bumps race across her skin. Then the rich scent of seared ahi and cream hit her nostrils and made her tummy growl.

She stood, and stomped into the kitchen, where she found only one setting—the one Max was seated in front of. Hands on her hips, her feline sensibilities offended, she snapped, “What about me?”

“Do you intend to join me now?”

“I planned to.”

Pushing away from the table, he rose to his full height, dwarfing her, a difference made more noticeable by her own state of undress. He offered her his chair, his apparent indifference to her bare body making her fists clench. Victoria plopped into the seat with an audible exhalation. This was not at all how she’d planned to corrupt him.

He reached for the long-tined fork. Spearing a piece of the nearly raw fish, Max dipped it in cream, and brought it to her lips. Startled, she stared up at him.

“Open.”

Before she realized it was a command, her lips parted and accepted the offering. Designed for her palate, the tastes blended together to form a delight for her senses. Max stood beside her, one hand on the back of her chair, caging her in while he prepared another bite. Her eyes met his in silent query.

“It’s a warlock’s duty to care for his pet.”

“I’m not your pet.” But it felt wonderful in any case.

“For now, you are.”

She hated to admit it, but his unwavering confidence aroused her. Her small breasts grew heavy, tender, the nipples peaked hard for his touch. Obligingly, his hand left the chair back and cupped the soft swell. Victoria gasped at the unexpected intimacy, and Max slipped the next bite into her mouth. As she chewed slowly, savoring the singular meal, his skilled fingertips toyed with her nipple.

“To submit is not to be weak,” he crooned in a husky, hypnotic tone. “You would not be less of a woman, kitten, but so much more of one.”

She shook her head fiercely even as she squeezed her thighs together, fighting the aching depth of lust she did not want to feel. The soft rolling and tugging of Max’s fingers on her nipple made her blood hot. As his arousal rose to meet hers, his skin warmed and filled the air with the faint scent of his cologne. The prominent bulge of his hard-on was eye level, and she couldn’t help but stare. The danger inherent in wanting him and his implacable arrogance turned her on to such an extent that she was panting in her chair. Her back arched helplessly, begging for more.

“It’s in your nature,” he murmured, his mouth to her ear. “The desire to be taken. To have the choice ripped from you so all you have to do is feel. Imagine my hands and mouth on your breasts . . . my fingers, tongue, and cock thrusting between your legs. . . . Your only task would be to enjoy the pleasure I can give you. Imagine the freedom in that.”

Freedom. Submission. The words could not be used together. They were mutually exclusive, but every time Victoria opened her mouth to retort, he filled it with food.

He continued to feed and fondle her until she writhed in the seat. Her skin was hot and tight, her cleft wet and creamy. Max knew all about her. He would have studied Familiars with precision and her in particular. It was his mission to hunt those who defied the Council. He knew Familiars craved to be touched and well fed. His approach was unusual, and therefore caught her off guard. They usually tried to fuck her into submission, not coddle her into it.

Soon her belly was full, which normally made her sleepy. But not tonight. The burning lust in her veins kept her from napping. But still she was languid. Pliable. Max lifted and carried her to her room, and she was unable to protest. She wanted to feel him inside her like she wanted to breathe. Still, she wasn’t a fool. With a softly spoken word, Victoria bound his powers.

His smile told her he felt what she’d done. It wasn’t just any smile, but one that promised she’d pay.

It only made her hotter.

Max set her on her feet, and turned her to face away from him. Anticipation rippled down her spine, making her shiver and breathe shallowly. With a firm, irrefutable hold on the scruff of her neck, he pressed her forward until she bent at the waist, face down in her bed.

“Max?”

As he pulled away, his teeth scraped her shoulder with seductive portent and before she could blink, her hands were bound behind her.

“What the hell?” Her heart raced in near panic. She couldn’t believe he would move so quickly. She had never been bound. The sudden feeling of helplessness reminded her of the way she’d felt when Darius stood in the midst of deadly swirls of magic and she could only watch, useless. “No!” Victoria struggled wildly.

“Hush, kitten.” His large body came over hers, a warm physical blanket. With his hands on either side of her head, he nuzzled his cheek against hers, his voice far huskier than usual. “I won’t hurt you. Not ever.”

“I— You—”

“You can’t bind my powers,” he murmured. “You’re strong, but not that strong.”

“I don’t like this, Max.” Her voice was a plaintive whisper.

Then one of his hands lifted from the mattress. She felt it working against the curve of her ass just before she heard the slow rasp of his zipper lowering. To her amazement, the arousal that had died flared to life again.

“You’re so tense.” He licked a slow, wet trail along the length of her spine. “All you have to do is lie there and come.”

Suddenly, she couldn’t see, her vision blocked by some spell he’d cast. Victoria went completely still, her breath caught in her throat. She’d never felt so completely at the mercy of someone else.

Between her legs she ached with an arousal that made her writhe. Despite what her mind said, her instinctual nature could not be denied.

“Look how ready you are.” His fingers stroked between her legs, gliding through the creamy evidence of how excited she was. “It must be exhausting fighting against yourself all the time.”

“Fuck you,” she spat. Though his tone was matter-of-fact and not smug, she still felt suppressed. Restrained.

Dominated.

“Actually, I’m going to fuck you. And you’re going to trust me enough to enjoy it.”

“I can’t trust you. I don’t know you. I only know what you want, which is the exact opposite of what I want.”

“Is it?” he asked patiently. “You’ll know me by the time I’m done. We’ll start with sex and work our way out.”

Victoria snorted. “How original.”

He paused, and she knew she’d scored a direct hit. She thought that would be the end of it.

Then against the back of her legs she felt the roughness of his jeans. “Aren’t you going to undress?” she breathed, her already keen senses now painfully acute from her blindness.

“No.”

One word. No explanation. She struggled, but was stilled by the warm, broad head of his cock stroking against her clit.

“Spread your legs wider, Victoria.”

She didn’t move. Damned if she’d help him tame her, arrogant bastard.

He sank in, forcing her slick tissues to spread for him, to accept him. Just an inch. Then he withdrew. Rubbing the now creamy tip against her, Max teased her, and then pressed inside her again. Just that one inch. She buried her head in the comforter and groaned, her sex spasming, trying to pull him in to where she needed him.

“If you spread your legs, you can have what you want.”

Victoria lifted her head. “I want you tied to the bed so I can torture you. Not the other way around.”

His rumbling laughter made her shiver. The fact was, no matter what Max did or said, he attracted her. “But you wouldn’t be enjoying that nearly as much as this.”

“Screw the games, Max. Can’t we just fuck?”

“I want to fuck you like this, angled just the way I want you.”

“What about what I want?” she complained.

“You want the same thing, kitten. You just wish you didn’t. You’re so tight like this, your cunt is like a velvet fist. I’ll have to work my way into you . . . ”

Max waited with the same studious patience he’d displayed since meeting her, all the while the head of his cock stroked into the mouth of her pussy in silent enticement. Her traitorous body beckoned him with a soft ripple. She was soaked and hot, more than ready.

She briefly considered altering and walking away, but then she wouldn’t have sex with Max and that just wouldn’t do. So, with her pride smarting, Victoria widened her stance. He’d pay later.

Immediately he surged inside, going deep and then deeper still until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, every part of her focused on the thick pulsing cock that filled her too full.

Gasping, her back arched as his short nails scraped lightly across her hips. He leaned over her. Dominated her. As his rippling stomach touched her bound hands she felt the dampness of his sweat through his t-shirt.

The warlock was not as controlled as he appeared.

Taking what little power she could, she clutched his shirt in her hands, holding him to her.

Hands on the mattress to support his weight, Max began to shaft her in long, deep drives. The angle of his penetration stroked with tantalizing pressure inside her, and he varied his thrusts, rubbing high and then low in an expert inner massage.

It was slow and far too easy, his hips pumping in timed, measured rhythm. Unable to see, she pictured how it must look, Max fully clothed, his ass clenching and releasing as he fucked her bound body. She quivered and began to purr. He growled in response, the vibration traveling the length of his body and into his thrusting cock.

“Do you feel weak?” he asked, his voice guttural and taunting. “Do you feel reduced because your body serves my pleasure and not your own?”

She wanted to retort, to argue, to fight, but she couldn’t. It felt too good doing nothing but taking what he gave her. She was a cat after all and inherently lazy.

“Inherently submissive,” he corrected. He moved one hand to cup her thigh and pulled it wider so he could fuck deeper. Now every plunge of his cock brought his tight, heavy balls against her clit.

He’d read her thoughts, she thought with what part of her brain was still functional.

The taming had begun.

With a soft hiss, she tightened around him. He cursed softly and shuddered, his body betraying him.

Suddenly, she grasped that he was as helpless as she. She’d attempted to use her body to entice him, and he’d succumbed. Despite the outward control he displayed, Max had started the evening with an entirely different approach and had dissolved from that into lust that could not be denied. Even now, his fingers bruised her hips, his thighs strained against hers, his labored breathing sounded loudly in the room.

Realizing that she was not alone in this unexpected physical fascination, she relaxed, sinking into the bed with a moan. It was not surrender. It was a stalemate.

Victoria’s mouth curved in a catlike smile.

Three

Max lifted the cup of coffee to his lips and stared out the window at the St. John Hotel directly across the street. He took deep, even breaths, his thoughts fully focused on clearing his mind. Excitement and anticipation coursed through his veins, and he studiously worked to temper them.

Control. Where was his? It was undeniable that when he was with Victoria hunger drove him, not his mission.

His kitten was a tigress in bed, one who rolled, scratched, and bit with abandoned fervor. Tying her to the brass headboard had been a necessary delight. One he’d repeated often over the last two weeks.

I don’t like this, Max, she’d said every time. But with her nipples hard against his tongue, he’d known the truth. She quaked, cursed, writhed, and the sight always made him so hard he’d have to grit his teeth to hold back his lust. Then he’d give up and fuck her for hours, long past exhaustion, abandoning his assignment in favor of overwhelming pleasure.

And the Council knew it.

Your lack of progress displeases us, They’d complained just an hour ago.

“You’ve given me very little time,” he’d retorted.

We think no amount of time will be sufficient for taming the feral. She is beyond rehabilitation.

“She is not.” He’d exhaled sharply. “You’ve never rushed me like this before, and she’s the toughest case I’ve ever been given.”

Decades have passed. Our patience is thin.

Turning away from both the window and the memory with a low curse, Max caught up his coat and left the café. Time had just run out. He couldn’t fail in this. Failure would cost him more than loss of pride. It would cost Victoria her life.

He crossed the busy thoroughfare and entered the St. John by way of the revolving glass doors, waiting until he was midrotation before using his power to move up to the top floor, where Victoria was hard at work. The thought of her occupied at her desk made his dick ache. He adored intelligent women, and Victoria was more cunning than most. She was also tough as nails.

The only time she’d been truly vulnerable was on the brink of orgasm, so he’d kept her there, time and time again, absorbing the sudden flood of her thoughts and recollections. Feeling the love she’d once had for Darius and the aching sadness of loss. Those glimpses of her soul always moved him to orgasm, the feeling of connection so profound it stole his breath.

He grit his teeth as his cock swelled further. He’d come more since meeting her than he would have thought possible. It was why he had made so little headway. A proper taming required restraint on the part of the Hunter. He should have been finding his release elsewhere, tempering his desire, but no other woman appealed.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Westin,” the receptionist greeted with a come-hither smile.

With a snap of his fingers, she had no recollection of his visit, her memory wiped clean in the blink of an eye. All she knew was that her boss was too busy to be disturbed, and she would take messages and deny visitors until she was told otherwise.

Max entered Victoria’s lair without knocking, setting in place a simple glamour that prevented any passerby from seeing their coming activities through the glass office wall.

She looked up, arched a brow, and set her pen down. “Max.”

His name. One word. In that soft purr, it was an aphrodisiac and he was not immune as he should be.

“Hello, kitten.” He smiled at the soft shiver he felt from her. She was not immune either.

“I’m busy.”

“You’re about to be,” he agreed, setting aside his coffee and summoning a beautifully wrapped box on her desk.

Her mouth curved in a sensual smile that made his blood heat. “A gift? How delightful.”

Long, elegant fingers plucked at the lavender iridescent ribbon and tore at the royal blue wrapping. Inside rested an ornate wooden box. He watched as her fingertips drifted over the phrase that was carved there: Only within my bonds will you truly know freedom.

Victoria said nothing, but he watched her with a Hunter’s perception and noted the sudden appearance of erect nipples beneath her white silk blouse. Her hand lifted to engage his vision, holding aloft a set of velvet-lined nipple clamps connected by a delicate gold chain.

“I was wondering when you were planning to get around to the toys,” she said, a tad breathlessly. “You’ve waited longer than most.”

The intimation that he was nothing special, merely another in a long string of annoyances, forced his hand. Furiously swirling air filled the room, scattering the papers on the desk and thrusting Victoria backward. Max stalked toward her, his gaze narrowed, his open palm closing swiftly into a fist, bringing her to an abrupt stop just a scant inch away from the window.

Her green eyes were wide, her lips parted on panting breaths, her chest rising and falling in apparent fear. He, however, knew it to be intense arousal. He could feel her in his thoughts, their bond building with every moment spent together. The surge of power inside her, a careful blending of magic and Familiar enhancement, made him groan aloud with his own overpowering lust. Never in his life had he felt this way about a woman. It felt almost as if he’d found the perfect fit to a puzzle piece. His fingertips itched with the magic coursing through him—magic strengthened by his proximity to Victoria.

“Kitten,” he growled, reaching her. He thrust his hands into her cropped hair and pressed her back against the glass, her feet suspended a few feet above the ground. Eye-level with him.

She purred and nuzzled against him, her silver hoop earrings cold against his cheek, and then too hot. He stepped back, his power pinning her to the scenic view of the city behind her. Her arms were held motionless beside her head, her breasts thrusting wantonly toward him in the submissive pose. Only here, in the seat of her corporate influence, would a true taming be possible. She was ruler here. Until he arrived.

That was the lesson to be learned.

As he reached for the buttons of his shirt and freed them, magic mimicked his movements with Victoria’s blouse. He smiled as he felt his belt loosen, pleased with her initiative in exerting her own power to undress him.

“A nooner?” she murmured, before licking her lips.

“An all-afternooner,” he corrected, shrugging out of his shirt.

“You’re insatiable.”

“You love it.”

Max watched with heated anticipation as the bra clasp between her breasts snapped open and then separated. The nipple clamps rose up from the floor and then clipped into place, her reaction to the sudden pressure a low hiss from between clenched teeth. The sight of those pale, firm breasts capped with swollen, reddened nipples and the slender chain made freeing his cock from its confinement necessary.

“Oooh, Max,” she purred, moving sinuously against the window as he dropped his pants. “What a big cock you have.”

He gave her his best wolfish grin, enjoying her playfulness in the face of her helplessness. “The better to screw you with, my dear.”

The side zipper of her thin skirt lowered and then the garment fell to the carpeted floor along with her black lace thong and stiletto heels. “After,” he summoned the remaining contents of the box into his open palm, “I screw you with this.”

Victoria swallowed hard at the sight of the slightly curved dildo in his hand. It was long and thick, close in size, shape, and coloring to Max’s cock. He lubed it generously, his gaze never leaving hers.

She pouted. “I don’t want that thing. I want you.”

Max faltered a moment at her words, then moved quickly, taking her mouth with deep-seated hunger, distracting her from the tightening bond between them.

I want you. Such simple words, but for her, the words imperiled. It wasn’t quite the “needing” required to make the collar appear, but it was close enough to cause a quickening inside him. He shouldn’t feel anything more than triumph at her words, but he did. Much more.

It was what he’d hoped for, the result he had set out to achieve, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so fast. He had been certain he’d have to drive her mad first. He couldn’t do it while he was inside her, like he had done with every other Familiar he’d tamed. When he was joined to Victoria, the Council faded from his perception, leaving just the two of them lost in each other. The only needs he cared about were his own, and the Council could go to hell.

As he breathed deeply of her scent, his eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving against hers, his fingers slipping between her legs to rub her clit. He felt possessive and needy. God, all morning since he’d left her he’d wanted her. Only hours apart. Too long. Knowing their time together was temporary, he coveted every moment and hated to share her with work or anyone else.

Irreverent, saucy, mischievous—she was a cat through and through. She both soothed and incited him, a dichotomy that left him satisfied on every front.

And he was preparing her for an eternity with another man.

The knowledge made his jaw ache, and his chest tighten painfully. He shoved the thought away, and concentrated on the here and now. At least she’d be alive. If he had to lose her, better to another warlock than to death.

Whimpering into his mouth as he stroked her slick cunt, Victoria tried to writhe, but couldn’t fight the force that held her. “Max,” she breathed into his mouth. “Let me touch you.”

He shook his head, unwilling to break away from the kiss.

“I want to touch you, damn it!” She jerked her mouth away.

“You should want what I want.” His voice was rough, harsh. “My pleasure is yours. My hunger is yours.”

“Is your need mine, too?” Victoria asked softly, her gaze riveted to the large man who stood before her. She heard his teeth grind in response to her query and his touch left her.

There was an urgency to his seduction that had never been there before. To come to her during the day, when they would have been together within hours . . .

She inhaled sharply. How often had she caught herself daydreaming about him, reliving moments from the long night before? He cooked for her every night, and fed her by hand. He showered with her, and washed her hair. There were rough moments, too, along with the tender. Moments of high passion—like when he’d come through her front door and dragged her to the floor, saying hello with guttural cries and drugging thrusts of his beautiful cock deep inside her. Never asking permission. Taking what he desired as if the use of her body was his right.

The attention had seduced her, reminding her of the intimate connection between warlock and Familiar. But the woman within her had also been captivated. She wielded great power in her human life. She was responsible for the thousands of employees who worked under her command. There was relief and pleasure to be found in turning herself entirely into Max’s dominant keeping. Darius had treated her as equal. Max never let her forget that he held the power.

But now his words betrayed him, revealing the depth of his affection for her.

You should want what your Master wants. His pleasure is yours. His hunger is yours. His need is yours.

But Max had inserted himself as her Master. And the need to accept him was nearly overwhelming.

When she was with him, the restlessness that had plagued her for so long was soothed immeasurably. She wasn’t alone when she was with Max. Aside from Darius, he was the only man to ever make her feel that way. She’d put on needed weight, finding joy in sharing her meals and life with someone who wanted her to be happy. And she was, because he made sure of it. Yes, the single most important aspect of their relationship was satisfying him, but what satisfied Max was pleasuring her.

Victoria watched him warily as he approached. The dildo, glistening with lube, was aimed straight at the juncture between her legs. Max leaned forward and licked across her lips. “Open up, kitten.”

Mutinously, she defied him. “Make me.”

With a slight flick of his hand, magic forced her legs apart. She creamed, softening further, some traitorous part of her heritage relishing the taming, knowing she was about to be pleasured beyond bearing, and she didn’t have to do a damned thing.

“Look how wet you are,” he praised, rubbing the smooth tip up and down her drenched slit. He pressed his mouth against her ear and whispered, “You love a hard cock in you.”

“I love your hard cock in me.” She gasped, her pussy clenching tight in an effort to capture the thick head that teased her opening.

“Let’s play first,” he rumbled, sliding the dildo a scant inch inside her. She tried to grind her hips down onto it, but couldn’t.

“Max!”

“Shush, I’ll give it to you.” With deft twists of his wrist, he pumped it softly, working it inside her, his other hand catching the chain between her breasts and tugging gently. A deep ache built within her breasts, spreading through her torso, making her cry out.

“Easy,” he crooned, thrusting gently, finally spearing home with breathtaking expertise.

Her eyes met his, trying to understand why he took her like this, what it was he wanted from her so she could give it to him. Then she gave up, her eyes drifting closed, her body shuddering with pleasure as he fucked her with long, smooth strokes.

“Please,” she whispered, her hot cheek pressed to the cool glass.

“Please what?” His tongue swiped across the pinched tip of a tormented nipple, then his mouth closed around both it and the clamp, sucking in rhythm to the rutting between her thighs.

“I want you.”

Max released her breast, and quickened his pace. Her hips rocked as much as they were able, her cries desperate, her clit swollen and throbbing for the slight touch that would send her into orgasm. Deep inside, the feel of the wide, flared head stroking along the walls of her pussy made her head thrash from side to side, the only part of her body she was allowed to move.

He groaned and leaned against her, his skin coated in a fine sheen of sweat. His tongue licked the shell of her ear and then thrust inside.

“Don’t you want me, Max?” she gasped, dying from the need to climax, to move, to have more than a fake cock could ever give her.

“You drive me insane.” He nuzzled his damp forehead against her cheek.

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

If it was . . . if he felt the connection she did . . . What she wouldn’t give to find love a second time. Perhaps, in the end, it wouldn’t be with Max, but this was the closest she’d come to that emotion in over two centuries.

Suddenly his hand was at her throat, his mouth over hers, his knees braced against the window to support the thrusts of his hand.

Give me what I want.

The melding of his thoughts with hers was all the impetus she needed. Part of the taming was his ability to read her thoughts, but for her to know his meant the connection ran both ways.

The tension fled her body. Her sex spasmed with want, clutching greedily for what it needed . . .

“Please,” she breathed, aching to hold him. “I need you.”

Max tilted Victoria’s head back a split second before the collar appeared. The thin black ribbon looked so innocuous, but it bound her more than chains ever could. It would fade when she was paired with a warlock, become a part of her, just as her new master would.

The sight of the collar and the submission it signified made cum dribble from the head of Max’s aching cock, every cell in his body flaring with masculine triumph. He yanked the dildo free and tossed it away, releasing her from his spell, catching her limp, willing body in a protective embrace.

He’d almost given in, he had wanted her so badly. Feeling her body grasping for him, hungry for him, had driven him crazy. The only thing that held him back was concern for her. If he failed to bring her back from the edge, They would kill her. And that would kill him.

Clutching her close, Max used his powers to take them home—his home. There he lowered her gently to his velvetcovered bed and then cupped her thigh, spreading her wide. The sight of the glistening lips of her sex and tiny pussy made his balls draw up. The look in her eyes made his heart ache.

Hours. That’s all they had left.

He climbed over her, admiring the new curves she’d acquired with careful tending. Under his care, she’d lost the signs of neglect. As he caught one of her wrists and pulled it over her head, he never took his eyes from her, using magic to pull the velvet rope from the bedpost and bind her.

“Max.” A whisper, no more than that, as she lifted her other arm without urging and used her own power to restrain herself.

Victoria was the most powerful woman he’d ever known, both in their world and the world they shared with humans. Her submission of that power to his demands was a gift of such magnitude it captured his heart. His eyes burned, his throat clenched tight.

His kitten. His.

He took her then, in a swift sure thrust that joined them so tightly there was no separation. A raw sound tore from his throat as she climaxed instantly, sucking his cock with ripples of pleasure, luring him to come in her with hard, fierce spurts. Holding her shivering body tightly to his, Max pumped gently, draining his seed while prolonging her pleasure, absorbing her cries with pure infatuation.

Later, he laced his fingers with hers and rode her bound body again. Harder this time, releasing his passion in a brutal taking, his hips battering hers, his cock plunging deep.

Victoria accepted his lust with such beauty, her voice hoarse, her words barely audible over his labored breathing.

“Yes . . . yes . . . yes . . . ”

Taking all that he was, blossoming like a flower beneath him, lush with such promise. The places he could take her, the things he could teach her, the freedom he could give her . . .

But he was a Hunter groomed to join the Council

Date: 2015-04-20; view: 856