Hella was sure this was a mistake, but if it was, she would own it, because she was damned if she was going to let MacKinnon walk out of the door and to his doom. She liked him. Fine, she more than liked him. And yes, it might have taken the sight of him so worn down and close to the edge, and the thought of never seeing him again to open her eyes, but they were open now.
Better late than never.
He angled his head and kissed her back, seizing control of it as he pressed closer to her, distracting her with how good the heat of his body felt against hers. She clutched his shirt in both hands, clinging to his shoulders as she kissed him, as their tongues duelled and she fought him for dominance. Something he apparently liked because he grabbed her waist and dragged her against him, a low groan escaping his lips as they battled hers.
On a toe-curling growl, he banded his arms around her and lifted her, twisting with her at the same time. Her backside hit the tabletop and his hands dropped to her skirts, and she gasped as the sound of material ripping filled the thick silence. Cool air washed across her overheating skin from her ankle to her hip and she shoved her hands against his chest, pushing him back and breaking the kiss.
“This is my one boring dress.” Her eyes widened when she saw it wasn’t one tear in the black cotton either.
It was in tatters, shredded by his claws.
He flicked her an apologetic look, but hunger soon overwhelmed it, darkening his eyes again, and it was like looking at a different person. He breathed harder as his irises turned golden, his handsome features sharpening as he raked a look over her and flexed his claws, the wicked heat in his gaze telling her he was considering ripping the rest of the dress off her to get to what he wanted.
What he needed.
“MacKinnon,” she whispered, hoping the sound of his name calmed him as it had before.
This time, he growled and bared his fangs and grabbed her hips, pressing the tips of his claws into her flesh in a way that was far too possessive. He swooped on her mouth, seizing it in a kiss that was rough and demanding as he pressed her backwards.
Hella turned her head away from him and he snapped fangs close to her cheek.
Admonishing her.
“MacKinnon,” she snapped back at him and grabbed his wrists, funnelling a little spell into him through them.
He jerked backwards, swift to release her as he got a taste of lightning in his veins. He cast her a furious look and came to tower over her, his back rod-straight and his eyes darker than she had ever seen them. He looked awfully as if he was considering how to punish her for denying him.
He was right. This wasn’t like him. This was the curse. It was driving him to this, making him so desperate to survive and to regain his strength that he would do anything, and deep in her heart she knew he would hate himself if he let it control him and he ended up hurting her.
“Hold still.” She lifted her hands and when he went to grab them, she clucked her tongue. “Do not move or this spell will go haywire and you’ll probably die.”
An exaggeration, but it certainly worked. He went deathly still, barely breathing.
Apparently, his survival instincts ran deep, were powerful enough that he could curb his desires. She made a mental note of that and considered what she was going to do.
Hella hesitated. The best way to get a spell into someone was skin contact, but asking him to remove his top would probably come across as a signal she wanted him to get all frisky again. Rather than risking that, she eased her hands under his Henley. His stomach flexed when she made contact, and mother earth, he had lost muscle. He wasn’t scrawny, not by a long shot, but he was noticeably less muscular than before.
His low growl heated her blood.
She resisted looking up at him, but couldn’t resist gently stroking her palms over his torso as she edged them upwards towards his chest. Or looking at the toned strip of stomach she revealed as his top caught on her forearms and lifted. She wanted to let her fingers follow that dark treasure trail that led downwards to the waist of his jeans as she swirled her tongue around the sensual dip of his navel.
This time, his growl was deeper and she shook herself out of her reverie as she realised it was because he could feel her rising desire and wanted to act on it. He had made it clear countless times that he could sense her need and felt driven to satisfy her, and she was probably throwing off strong signals that were making him even crazier.
Soon. He could take all he wanted from her and give her everything she needed soon. She just needed a moment to check something.
“Mind on business, Hella,” she murmured to herself, denying the urge to keep soaking up the delicious sight of his body.
Her palms met his chest and she spaced them a few inches apart on either side of his racing heart, closed her eyes and used a spell to form a connection between them, one that would allow her to do a little probing.
Her eyes shot wide.
She had barely scratched the surface when the truth hit her like a bomb, shaking her.
“Mother earth,” she breathed and looked up at him, her gaze colliding with his as shock rolled through her.
The curse really was killing him. She could feel it like a creeping rot in his body, spreading outwards from his heart, and it wasn’t only stealing his strength. It was affecting his mind too, twisting his thoughts towards one thing—the pursuit of the only thing that could bring him relief.
Her.
When she found the witch who had done this to him, she was going to kill them. They would pay for hurting MacKinnon. They would pay for using him to get to her, involving him when they should have had the balls to come at her themselves instead.
“We’re doing this,” she said and kept her hands against his chest, locking her elbows when he tried to move towards her again. “But I have a condition, and you’re not going to like it.”
His expression darkened and his heart thundered against her palms, and she swore she could feel his panic.
She stared into his eyes, keeping her with him. “You’re not the only one afraid, MacKinnon. You’re not yourself. If there was any other way to make sure you didn’t go too far or get too rough—”
“Do it.” He held his wrists out to her, his deep voice gravelly, the earnest edge to it far too sexy. “I don’t want you to fear me, Hella. I don’t want to hurt you.”
His eyes told her something else as they darted between hers, something that resonated within her.
He wanted this to be the start of something, not the end.
Gods help her but she wanted that too.
She also wanted something else.
“Take your top off.” She pushed her hands upwards towards his shoulders as he growled low, his eyes narrowing on hers.
He whipped it off, revealing his body to her, and she masked the horror that rolled through her as she saw just how much the curse had ravaged him. She could probably fit her hands around his biceps now. She ached for the old MacKinnon, the one who had been healthy in mind and body. She could bring that man back to her. All she had to do was take things to the next level with him and that was hardly a chore.
He tossed his shirt on the floor, his gaze still riveted on her, as if he couldn’t look away, and she liked that. She liked that he was always so transfixed by her, as if she was the only other person in this world. A woman could get used to having such a handsome, powerful man doting on her and satisfying her every need.
While still retaining her independence, of course.
She wasn’t sure how she was going to wrangle that, knew in her gut he would have ideas about them that she wasn’t going to agree with, but she would figure it out once MacKinnon was back to his normal self.
Hella said the incantation in her mind as she reached up and skimmed her hands down his arms in one fluid motion, keeping her eyes locked with his, distracting him. When her fingers met his wrists, she funnelled the spell to their tips and completed it. Cold metal replaced the warmth of his skin and she held her breath, bracing herself for his reaction when chains unravelled from the twin thick cuffs and snapped to a point on the floor behind him.
He sucked down a breath, and then another, swallowed hard and glanced at his wrists.
And frowned.
“Silk? Silk isn’t strong enough to hold me, Hella.” His golden gaze leaped to meet hers and then dropped back to his wrists.
Her secondary spell had worked then. She had hoped that if she tricked his eyes into seeing violet silk wrapped tightly around his wrists and his body into feeling the softness and warmth of that material, that he wouldn’t panic and go to that dark place he did whenever he was chained.
“It’s plenty strong.” She stroked her fingers over the silver manacles she could see.
MacKinnon tugged at his right restraint, testing it and finding it satisfactory judging by how his eyes darkened with desire again, hunger lighting them as he shifted them back to her.
He raked his gaze over her, heat following in its wake, sending her temperature soaring together with the fact she had chained him facing her on the desk. Wicked images of him taking her on it filled her mind. He sniffed and then growled, baring fangs that only made her feel hotter now that he was chained and he wouldn’t be able to easily reach her neck.
His claws flexed as she paid him back, leisurely taking in every inch of his torso as her fingers drifted to it. She stroked them over his pectorals and then down the ropes of his stomach, the short dark hairs that covered him teasing her fingertips as much as the feel of his muscles as he tensed.
Her left hand drifted lower as she tilted her head back and lifted her eyes to lock with his again, and his eyelids drooped as she stroked her palm over the impressive bulge in his jeans. Her blood heated another few degrees, scorching her as she remembered how he had looked naked, how big he had been when she had watched him dreaming of her.
He pressed his cock against her hand and lunged for her, trying to seize hold of her ruined dress as he aimed fangs at her shoulder. She leaned back, evading him, and he growled and flashed his fangs as the chains holding him shortened, pulling him away from her and placing her beyond his reach.
Hella huffed as she hopped down from the desk and moved around it, putting it between them. “You’re being too much of an alpha with me. You want this to happen, then it’s happening on my terms. You play by my rules.”
That didn’t go down well.
He snarled and yanked at his restraints, his expression darkening as they refused to give and he couldn’t reach her.
She risked it and went back to him, moving around behind him. She reached under his arm and pressed her right palm to his chest, right over his heart, and leaned her cheek on his biceps.
He stilled and his gaze flicked to hers.
“You know, I’ve done my research and I’ve gathered proof of something you won’t like. Your instincts are telling you a lie, MacKinnon. The same lie they tell every male who finds his fated one. I’ve seen it countless times in this town. Enough times to know you have this whole thing about fated mates wrong.” She feathered her fingers over his chest, teasing the crisp hairs, following the line of one of his scars from one pectoral to another. Her eyes drifted up to meet his and she licked her lips, teasing him and savouring the way his gaze grew hooded again, his eyes locking on her mouth. “You don’t own me. I own you.”
He stared at her, breathing so hard that he shifted her hand with each one.
No denial?
She had expected him to rail at her, to let his alpha side loose and listen to his instincts rather than her. Or were his instincts now in line with what she had told him? Had he realised that the tables had turned and he was hers now, born to serve her?
Her hand slipped from his chest as she stepped away from him, savouring the way his eyes tracked her, keeping her desire at a boil. She stopped once he could see her, made sure he was watching and then removed the remains of her dress, revealing her body to him.
His growl thrilled her, the feel of his eyes raking over her heightening her desire, making her ache for him.
She reached around behind herself and unhooked her plain black bra and cast it aside.
His throat worked on a hard swallow and his lips parted, the hunger lighting his eyes growing stronger as he lowered them to her breasts. She stroked her fingers around her nipples, so they tightened into tempting beads.
This time, he snarled and fought his bonds, straining with both hands to reach her.
Hella sashayed back to him, still teasing her breasts.
The moment she was close to his side, she let the chains loosen enough that he could move more freely and he twisted and knocked her hands aside. She shivered as he made contact, his calloused hands cupping her breasts and his thumbs brushing her nipples. His chains were cold against her overheating flesh, adding to the thrill coursing through her like a drug.
She ran an appraising look over him. Where to start? The answer to that question was easy.
She removed his hands from her and kept hold of his right arm, eased under it and came to stand before him with her back to the table. His rumbling growl and the hungry look in his eyes, one that made her feel as if he wanted to eat her whole, were thrilling, had heat sweeping through her from her toes to her cheeks.
He palmed her breasts again, his large hands covering them, and she savoured the feel of his rough skin against their sensitive tips as she trailed her fingers down his stomach, heading for the waist of his jeans.
“Let me get a good look at you.” She made fast work of the buttons and bit her lip as his fly parted and his cock sprang free.
Heat pooled lower as she took hold of it, the heaviness of it in her hand sending another sharp thrill chasing through her. He was bigger than she recalled, and bigger than any man she’d had before. Her cheeks flushed deeper as she stroked him, wringing a drop from the broad head, and an urge to taste that bead of moisture struck her.
Hella bent over and dropped her head, wrapped her lips around him and moaned in time with him as she explored him with her tongue. He growled and fisted her hair. When he began pumping his hips, trying to fuck her mouth, she gripped his hips and pushed him back, earning a feral snarl from him.
“I’m in control here. Not you.” She narrowed her eyes on him, trying to be firm when all she really wanted to do was suck him until his legs gave out and he bellowed in pleasure. She stroked her hands down his arms to his wrists. “I own you.”
He really didn’t like that.
He turned savage in a heartbeat, his expression twisting in vicious lines as his eyes glowed gold, and she flicked a worried glance at his chest, aware she had gone too far even when she had only been trying to amp up the wickedness of the moment with some sexy talk. He grabbed her before she could focus on the spell that held him so the chains would shorten, his mouth descending on hers. His kiss was rough, his grip on her too tight, and she swore she could feel him slipping, surrendering to his instincts.
Not good.
She desperately placed her hands against his chest, over his thundering heart, and tried to break free so she could call his name and bring him back to her.
Only her touch was enough to do that this time, had him wrenching away from her mouth to gaze down at his chest.
Hella stroked her palms over it and then lifted her right hand and pushed her fingers through his wild dark hair. Not petting him. She wasn’t petting the big, bad wolf. He liked it though, his gaze growing hooded again, his features relaxing as he leaned into her touch. Apparently, her wolf enjoyed being petted.
She smiled wickedly and lowered her other hand to pet him elsewhere. He groaned as her palm brushed his hard shaft and it kicked, eager for her touch. Eager for her. She wanted it too, was on fire for this male. She stroked him a few more times, distracting him with the pleasure and sedating him, and then released him and hopped up onto the bench table.
His growl of displeasure died before it fully left his lips as she shimmied out of her panties and spread her legs, baring herself to him. He swallowed and seized her thighs, trying to pull her to him as he stepped towards her. A hand on his cock stopped him this time, and he stilled as she stroked it and touched herself. He stared at her hand as she teased her own flesh, his rumbling growls and little grunts filling the thick silence.
He grabbed his shaft.
Hella stroked the head, smearing moisture into it. “I know you need me, but I need to be ready for you.”
He stilled and frowned at her, released his breath and dropped his gaze back to her hands. She rewarded him for his patience by stroking him, giving him some relief. Which only made her burn hotter. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from him as she touched herself, imagining him filling her, growing wetter by the second.
Aching for him.
Too much.
She leaned back slightly and drew him towards her, desperate to feel him inside her and live out her fantasies.
MacKinnon growled and grabbed her hips, and before she could catch up, she was face down on the table and he was inching into her from behind. She gripped the edge of the table as he slowly filled her, stretching her to the point of pain, and whispered a spell, one designed to take that pain away, because she wanted only pleasure from this moment. She moaned as he nudged deeper and grunted, his breaths sawing from him as he struggled to join them slowly. It touched her. Even this far gone, this desperate and wild for her, he didn’t want to hurt her.
“MacKinnon,” she breathed and he slid deeper still, and gods, she needed him all the way inside her, needed to know the feeling of being one with him. She didn’t want slow. She wanted fierce. She wanted to feel him. She looked over her shoulder at him. Tight lines bracketed his mouth as he focused on where they joined. His gaze lifted to hers. She pushed back onto him a little, trying to show him that she needed him. Now. She whispered, “Kin.”
His expression shifted, delight in his eyes one moment and hunger the next, and she cried out as he thrust deep into her, filling her all the way.
He leaned over her, fisting her hair with one hand to pull her head back and gripping the bench with the other as he pounded into her, punishing and powerful thrusts that would have moved the bench if he hadn’t been holding it in place.
Mother earth.
She breathed hard as he took her, lost in how wicked it was as he bent her to his will, making her a slave to him and her desires. Delicious. He pumped her harder, each brutal thrust striking her deep in her core, and she loved it. He groaned and grunted against her back, his breath washing her bare skin as he drove into her, pushing her towards what she knew was going to be an earth-shattering—no, life-altering—release.
He moved back, releasing the bench, and she gripped it instead, trying to hold it in place as he deepened his thrusts and palmed her backside, his grip on her hair forcing her head up and her spine to arch. Her nipples brushed the wooden top with each thrust, adding to her pleasure, and his balls slapped her sensitive bead. He massaged her buttock and she was close, soaring and desperate for one final push.
MacKinnon stroked his thumb down the cleft of her buttocks and pressed it into her, digging his fingers into the fleshy cheek at the same time, holding her firmly in place. A cry burst from her as pleasure detonated inside her, so intense that everything went hazy for a moment before it came back and she could breathe again. He pressed his thumb deeper as he continued to take her, rougher now, riding her climax and driving her towards another. His chains rattled against her hips, cool against her flesh as he pumped her deeper, faster, more desperately.
She was close again.
The door in front of her opened and she almost screamed in horror as Fenix filled the doorframe. The tawny-haired incubus stared at her, his green eyes wide as he got one hell of a view of her and MacKinnon.
MacKinnon growled and took her harder, the dominant way he responded to the presence of another male thrilling her and sending her soaring higher.
Fenix swiftly backed out of the door and closed it, and her momentary horror was quick to disappear as MacKinnon kept thrusting, his grip on her tightening as he pushed her right to the edge again.
He plunged deep inside her and howled, his entire body shuddering as he spilled, powerful hot jets that had her thighs quivering and body shaking against the table as she followed him. He eased out and back into her, slowly this time, thrusting gently as he came. Each one was slower than the last as he throbbed and she pulsed around him, coming down with him as she caught her breath.
She mourned the absence of him as he pulled out of her and she turned in time to see him sag against the wall, his chest rising and falling on hard breaths and his silver gaze hazy.
Hella locked gazes with him, awareness sweeping through her.
She had just ruined everything.
She would never want another male now.
MacKinnon only made that feeling stronger by finding a clean rag and carefully wiping her, gently stroking her trembling backside with his free hand as he growled low, an air of possession in it that excited her this time.
When he was done, she turned to face him and undid the spell holding his wrists. He rubbed them and she blushed as he stooped and picked up her underwear. He held it out to her. She quickly donned it, her legs still shaking, feeling weak beneath her, and searched for a dress that wasn’t in tatters. She found one over the back of her armchair and pulled it on, stumbled a few steps towards the door and looked back at him.
Needing to know he was all right.
MacKinnon nodded and closed his eyes, and slumped into the chair.
While she didn’t need his permission to go and speak with Fenix, she appreciated that he wasn’t going to go off the rails about it, and silently swore she would make it quick.
Because she already wanted an encore.