Suzanne McLeod - The Shifting Price of Prey

I pushed myself up on my elbows.

It wasn’t just his shirt that was gone. All his clothes were gone. He was naked . . . Gorgeous . . . My eyes followed the silky black hair that shaded a line down his washboard stomach, all his muscles crisply defined beneath beautiful taut skin . . . skin that glowed a soft silver as if he’d somehow consumed the moon. I looked lower . . . all of him was—

Oh my gods! That wasn’t in the script!

He pulled me slowly towards him, his hands gliding like rough satin up my legs. My pulse turned erratic and instinctively I clutched at the tablecloth. But it and I slid unresistingly across the table until I was half lying, knees bent, legs dangling and Malik standing between them.

‘Well, Genevieve.’ He grinned: a feral, fanged slash. ‘This is how you wanted me, was it not?’

‘Um, sort of,’ I said, sitting up, bemused that he was talking and sounding like himself. He was trapped in my Glamour; he should be my willing, adoring slave, waiting for my every whim. So why wasn’t he?

‘Sort of?’ He raised an elegant brow. ‘Maybe you would prefer me like this.’ His grip on my knees tightened as he jerked me towards him. I yelped, surprised, clutching at his shoulders as his hands clamped high on my thighs, holding me teetering on the table’s edge.‘Is this close enough, Genevieve?’

I looked down; there was only a breath of air between us. My skin flushed, need and anticipation coiling tight inside me as the urge to wrap my legs around him and feel him thrust deep flashed in me like lightning; it had been too long since I’d last lost myself to pleasure. And this wasn’t some venom junkie; a stranger I’d picked up in Rosa’s body to satisfy my cravings, only to leave me with a bitter taste in my mouth . . . This was Malik.

A feeling hotter and sweeter than mere lust trembled inside me. I’d wanted him since I’d first seen him and that want had strengthened, shifting into something indefinable as my initial fear and distrust had dissipated. All it would take was one of us to move, and then—

I swallowed and raised my eyes to his. They were still gold with my Glamour . . . He might seem like he wasn’t my slave, but I wasn’t about to trust that, not when Glamouring anyone was akin to force. Shame mixed with yearning rolled through me.

This. Was. Not . Real.

‘I think that’s close enough,’ I said, though my voice held uncertainty instead of the dryness I’d been aiming for.

His mouth quirked. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes,’ I said, this time more firmly. ‘What I’m not sure about is how come you seem yourself again.’

His thumbs traced circles over my inner thighs, sparking desperate desire. ‘Ah, you wonder why haven’t I succumbed to your magic?’

Succumb! Gods, I so wanted to succumb, so wanted to pull him to me, to close that infinitesimal gap between us. ‘Yes.’

‘I told you once before, Genevieve, your magic is not powerful enough to hold one such as I, not even weakened as I am with this.’ He dipped his head to indicate the spell on his forehead. ‘But your magic does appear to be strong enough to keep it at bay. It is allowing me some respite from the need to fight it.’ He lowered his voice. ‘As does inducing me to taste the delights of your body.’

I inadvertently dug my fingers into the cool skin of his shoulders as an image filled my mind: we weren’t talking euphemisms here. I batted the thoughts away before they shattered my resolve. I was the one supposed to be doing the distracting, not him. And my distraction was working, even if it had been a rough, roller-coaster ride. And even if the ride had ended before the big finalé. Which was for the best, I told myself firmly, determinedly keeping my eyes on his face and ignoring both the frustration itching through my veins, and how tantalisingly close he was, almost brushing against me.

‘Right,’ I said, adopting a businesslike air. ‘If you hold still, I’ll have a look at the spell and see how to remove it.’ I lifted my hand only to have him catch my wrist.

‘I do not think that is wise,’ he said, mimicking my brisk tone. ‘Magic has an adverse effect on you.’

‘If I absorb it, yes,’ I agreed. ‘But I’m not going to do that.’

‘What are you going to do?’

His slightly too casual question rang a warning bell in me. He appeared fully in control, but I didn’t know enough about the spell to trust it truly wasn’t still influencing him, albeit less than before. I decided to sidestep, and satisfy my curiosity at the same time. ‘First, I think you need to tell me why you’re shining.’

‘You are the one that is shining, Genevieve. Like the desert sun at noon.’

Despite his playful tone, a faint echo of sadness twisted in me. Did he miss the sun? I pushed the thought away. ‘I know I’m shining,’ I said. ‘I’m concerned about why you are. Is it something to do with the spell?’

‘The risk is too great for you to remove the spell.’

Okay, so he wasn’t going to answer. And whether his silvery moonlight glow was connected or not didn’t really matter. Time to bait a hook, see what I could catch. ‘I’ve got something that takes all the risk out.’ I grinned. ‘A magical turkey baster.’ Not that I could magic it up here from Leicester Square, but hey, he wasn’t to know that.

Emotion flickered in his eyes, eagerness, desperation, or both, though with my magic colouring them gold, it was hard to tell. ‘Do you have it in your bag?’

‘Well, it’s not stuck behind my ear, is it?’ I said, giving him an arch look.

Pain contorted Malik’s face. He dropped my arm and made a slashing gesture at my backpack. It lifted itself from where I’d dumped it and smashed into the wall at the far end of the room with a resounding crash.

Well, that confirmed my suspicions that Malik had some sort of kinetic power. And – I shot my crushed backpack and its scattered contents a resigned look – that confirmed my other suspicion. Malik wasn’t fully in control of Malik.

‘Genevieve. I order you—’

I grabbed his cock and squeezed. It had the desired effect.

He stopped speaking, a heavy groan of need cutting off whatever order he, or the Autarch using Malik as his mouthpiece, had been about to give me.

‘I knew there was a reason you got naked,’ I muttered, slapping my other hand on his forehead. This time when I seized the Jellyfish spell I was ready for its stingers, gritting my teeth as the pain arced though my body. Only my own determination and Malik’s hands clamped around my thighs held me in place. I panted through the pain, working my fingers into the jellyfish, caging the mass tightly in my hand. Another groan came from Malik, this one less needy, more agonised. I glanced down at the hand holding him . . .

Oops. Looked like I was going to have to do the adult equivalent of the kids’ trick of patting my head while tracing circles on my stomach, otherwise this was so not going to be any fun for him.

Not that fun was what this was about.

I focused on his forehead, slowly tugging the jellyfish, taking care none of its stinging tentacles snapped and were left behind. The things were vicious, alternatively attacking my arm or trying to reattach to Malik through the brand. The jellyfish pulsed against my palm, and horror washed through me as I realised it wasn’t the normal magical spell construct but was a living organism the spell had been tagged to. Ugh. It had been inside Malik’s brain, constantly stinging and no doubt feeding off him. No wonder he couldn’t think. I swallowed back bile. The sadistic Autarch really had it coming for this.