They found Maeve waiting in the corridor, Essus perched on her arm and fully healed. Apparently one of her menagerie had alerted her they were back. The Mother stroked the eagle’s breast feathers, her expression sad. “I had to make that for her when she was ten. She went into one of her rages and started throwing fireballs at the cat.”
Judging by his impressive snarl, Shere Khan was the cat in question. “I told you you were spoiling that little bitch.”
“Yes, I know. Is she hurt?” Maeve looked tired, lines pleating around her eyes as if she were a mortal mother worried for her deadly problem child.
“No,” Conal said shortly. Not that I wasn’t tempted. But that wasn’t something he could say to Maeve.
“I’m probably going to have to call one of the Magekind to treat her injuries. I won’t be able to touch her because of the geas.” There was such sadness on the goddess’ face, Conal felt a stab of pity for her. She hadn’t asked for this hellish situation. He’d seen her mothering Iona all those years ago. Whatever had happened with Siobhan, it hadn’t been simple permissive parenting.
Maeve gestured, and the door closed, locking with the metallic click. A metal bar appeared across it a blink later. Siobhan wouldn’t be getting out of there anytime soon.
With visible effort, the Mother straightened her shoulders. “I felt Liam’s geas break.” A muscle leapt in her jaw. “Which was more than a little terrifying, but I knew that if anyone could be trusted with that much power it would be you.” The smile she gave Conal looked more genuine.
“It wasn’t quite that easy. If it hadn’t been for Helena…” I’d have become a monster. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words.
Guilt stirred in Maeve’s eyes, but she smiled with an obvious effort. “I can imagine. The temptation had to have been intense if Lugh… But I knew Helena would keep you grounded if anyone could.” She eyed the two of them, and he was abruptly aware of how blood-smeared and bedraggled they both looked. “Why don’t you two go on to bed?”
Conal blinked at her. Oh, God, she can probably smell the pheromones.
“Uh…” Helena said, looking every bit as taken aback as he felt. “I thought I’d give you a report.”
“Tomorrow is soon enough.” She reached up to stroke Essus. “In the meantime, Essus and Liam can fill me in.” Straightening, she extended her free hand. Helena drew the Desert Eagle from her shoulder holster and handed him over. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Neither of them was in the mood to argue.
Chapter Ten
Conal followed Helena into her quarters, his body feeling hard and heavy with need. Liam’s ice-water bath seemed to have worn off.
Rather than jump her the minute the door closed behind them, he made himself take a slow look around as they walked through the sitting room/study, with its desk and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves packed with books, including a collection of dog-eared paperbacks. Weapons and magical items hummed power between the volumes -- daggers, swords, an axe, helms and gemstones. A pair of leather armchairs sat before a brick fireplace, one with a paperback lying on the seat.
The bedroom beyond it was opulent. Most of one wall held a bay window with a view of the moonlit gardens and the white marble fountain at its heart: Maeve, water spilling from her open hands as marble animals cavorted through the spray.
But all that was secondary to the bed -- and not just because he badly wanted to get Helena into it. It was big enough to accommodate her dire wolf form, round rather than rectangular. Curving organic shapes rose around it on three sides, branching like the rack of an enormous stag, the tips glowing with pearlescent light. Narrow swaths of white gossamer lace draped between the tines, crossing and re-crossing to form a canopy. It was quite possibly the most romantic bed he’d ever seen. Especially for a badass werewolf troubleshooter. “Wow.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s a little much.” She looked a bit embarrassed.
“No,” he said softly. “It’s beautiful. It suits you.” And she’d look beautiful in it, warm and brown among all that cool white lace.
“Ah. Good.” She paused, bit her lip.
Something metallic towered in his peripheral vision. He pivoted, tensing automatically, then relaxed when he realized it was a suit of armor. Though designed in the graceful Sidhe style, it was obviously intended for her werewolf form, given the long-muzzled helm and the back-curving canine thighs. He imagined how she’d look in it. Beautiful and deadly…
Fabric rustled. He glanced back to see Helena peeling off what was left of her dress. Again. Suddenly he no longer gave a shit about the décor. Not with that deliciously sleek body right there, curving hips, long legs with the neatly trimmed nest between them, round breasts with their tight, dark nipples. The lust Liam had doused with that bucket of ice water burst into roaring flame. He took an eager step toward her as his cock instantly went from semi-hard to tempered steel. “Helena…”
She swallowed, staring at him, her eyes wide and dark with the need for something more than sex. “I… the bath…”
“Screw the bath. I came too fucking close to losing you.” He had to touch her, taste her, feel her heart beat against his. He lunged for her as she flung herself into his arms. Her mouth was hot and impossibly soft against his as she pressed into him, naked and lithe, as the scent of her pussy drowned every other thought in his head. He tangled his fingers in her hair, as she hooked first one long, bare leg over his hip, then the other. Groaning, Conal filled his free hand with the warm silk of her ass as she climbed him, kissing him with intoxicating greed.
A slim fist wrapped the collar of his shirt, dragged at it until it tore. He let go of her long enough to let her strip the rag off him and dump it on the floor. The whole time, he could feel her bare pussy grinding against his erection, separated only by the material of his slacks. Her mouth tasted of smoke and fire, desperation and love. He hadn’t known love had a taste.
Still kissing her, he carried her over to that incredible bed. She unwrapped her legs and dropped onto it, sprawling brown and breathtaking against the pale fabric of the comforter, her dark eyes glowing up at him, her smile very white and hungry. Pure sex, the smell of that delicious pussy seeming to reach right into him
He straightened and went for his zipper, watching her watch him with those hot eyes as he stripped. His cock ached savagely as he paused to fumble off his socks and shoes before he finally kicked out of the pants. She sat up and reached for his cock, wrapping those long fingers around his aching shaft. He froze, watching her, breath held as she leaned forward and licked away the bead of pre-come. For a moment, he was afraid he’d come on the spot. “Yeah, not a good idea,” he managed.
Helena tilted him a teasing smile. “Feels like a very good idea to me.” Then she sucked him in again, and the feeling of that wet mouth threatened to completely overcome whatever rags of self-control he had left.
“Me too,” he managed, dragging himself out of her grip. “But I want to give you a lot more…” He came down on top of her, filling his hands with warm soft breasts as the smell of wet pussy flooded his brain with head-spinning intoxication. They kissed, hungry, desperate, pulled free, kissed again, murmuring things in between that made no sense, just words of need and frantic relief.