UnholyCravings Page 4

  “Fair enough.” Tara nodded toward the door. “In the meantime, maybe you could get us another round of coffee.”

  He smiled, his whole face brightening. “Yes, coffee.” He started to leave, then stopped and turned to face her. “Should I get some for them as well?”

  Tara frowned. “I’m not sure if they drink coffee or not.” She shrugged. “Why not? If they don’t drink it, I will.”

  “That’s my girl.” He turned to go. “I’ll scout out the alley next door again and see if we can find any clue as to where those two deahmans may have gone.”

  “Sounds good.” She walked with Samir to the door and watched him step out into the hallway. “Samir?”

  “Yes?”

  She wanted to say that she wished it had worked out between them, that she wished that her magic would have bound their souls together and they could have been mates. She didn’t love Samir, but she was comfortable with him and they were compatible. They had similar backgrounds and shared the same world views. It wouldn’t have been a perfect match, but it would have been a good one.

  She wanted to tell him all of this and more, but the words stuck in her throat. There was just no… chemistry between them. No excitement. Not to mention the fact that her magic didn’t seem to want to bind with him, something that she found frustrating.

  She didn’t like knowing how much control her magic had on her life. It was unnerving. Why couldn’t she just weave the souls together on her own? Why did she need some mystic approval?

  So many of her kind believed in destiny. Not her. Free will, baby. Tara made her own decisions and chose her own path in life. None of this “destined mates” crap. That was for the romance novels, not for her.

  And yet, when it came to Samir, that wasn’t the case at all. Her magic had chosen for her by refusing to bind her soul with her friend and she had to hope that it had made a wise decision.

  Samir had taken the news of their non-binding well, acting as if he had heard his electric bill was an extra fifty dollars. Not the reaction one would expect from a spirit-mate. He was disappointed and a little upset, but he got over it quickly. A little too quickly for Tara’s taste.

  “Make my coffee with extra cream, will ya?” she asked him. Those words came easier. They weren’t laced with embarrassment or regret.

  “Sure thing.” Samir winked at her and disappeared down the hall. She watched his large, muscular body move with the ease and grace of a predator and tried to draw up some fragment of desire. There was none. She sighed and closed the door, returning to the men on the bed.

  She pulled out her phone and pressed the number one on her speed dial.

  “Sparrow here.” A smooth, masculine voice hummed over the line. Her FBI contact had a deep and sensual voice, one you would expect to hear on one of those sex therapist type radio shows at one o’clock in the morning. After listening for five minutes, you wanted to pour your heart out to him and earn his approval.

  Tara smiled. She had been working with Sparrow for a while now, one of the few men Darien and Arianne had trusted within the FBI. He had proved his worth ten times over, and had access to technology that the Iatros didn’t have. They needed him, and Tara suspected that he was well paid for his efforts.

  “It’s Road Runner. I have the prize,” she said. She had agreed to the code name of Road Runner only after significant arm twisting. It was either that or Tweety, and she would much rather be named after a fast bird than one who had an annoying, screechy voice.

  There was a brief pause. “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Fairly sure. They match the pictures in their files. Both look a little older and more beat up then I remember, but there is a sense of familiarity.”

  “Let me talk to them.”

  “They’re unconscious now.” She told him the story, leaving out the part about her kissing Soren and Samir throwing him against a wall.

  “Did you check for the tattoos?”

  “No. There’s no need. They both have the diamond earrings, and one of them confirmed that his name was Soren.”

  “Anyone could wear earrings, and he could be lying. You need to check.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  Tara hesitated. “Because they’re in a rather intimate place.”

  “It doesn’t matter, we have to be sure.”

  He seemed rather insistent. Tara looked back at the men on the bed and nibbled her lower lip. She remembered the firm press of Soren’s lips, how his hands spanned her waist. Most of all, she remembered him easing her back on the bed and covering her with his hard, muscular body. If Samir hadn’t interrupted them…

  “Have you tied them up?” Sparrow asked.

  “No.”

  “You mean that they are just sitting there?”

  “They’re unconscious.” Tara hated when Sparrow questioned her judgement, even though he was right most of the time. The man could be downright infuriating.

  Swear words rumbled through the line. “Tie them down before they wake up, and then look for the tattoo.”

  “Okay. Hang on, I’ll be right back.” Tara’s thoughts drifted back to when Soren first woke up. Desire flared in her core and her skin became hot. The man was a good kisser. She felt almost as if he was trying to consume her. It was incredibly hot.

  He seemed a little possessive, but he wasn’t threatening. He hadn’t harmed her, and she thought it would be harder to get information from either of them if they were treated as if they were prisoners.

  She decided not to tie them, but to look for the tattoo. Sparrow was right. They had to be sure that she had the people they were looking for. Besides, after that kiss, Tara was eager to touch Soren again.

  Tara placed the phone on the counter and went over to the bed. She looked at first one man, then the other, deciding where she should begin. There was so much muscle, so much skin. She moistened her lips as she ran her gaze over each of their taut bodies. She imagined herself in bed with both of them, touching their arms, feeling their hard chests press up against her. She had heard of women having sex with two men before, but had never given it much thought until now. It was wild and reckless and oh-so-exciting. Too bad they were both unconscious.

  She moved around the bed, closer to where the taller and leaner man laid. This one hadn’t woken up since the blast. Donar. His face appeared strained and troubled. She reached out to touch him, then paused, her hand inches away from his temple. Her fingers itched to touch him, but she felt odd disturbing him in his sleep. She held still for a second and considered her options.

  If these were the twins who had once belonged to the now defunct assassin team Venom, then they’d both have a large tattoo of a snake wrapped around a sword that would span from their calf to their hip. To see the tat, Tara would have to remove the men’s pants. There was no way around it.

  It was rude to just take their clothes off while they were unconscious, but damn, she really wanted to see what was underneath those form-fitting jeans. Would they have a fine dusting of hair on their legs? Would their cocks be long and lean, or more thick and rounded? With a little luck, perhaps Tara could have the best of both worlds…

  What was she doing? This was no time to have her imagination run wild. She shook off the image of her limbs entwined with each of the twins and glanced at the phone. Sparrow was waiting. She had to get to work.

  Tara moistened her lips and put her hand on Donar’s shirt. The thin cotton fabric felt smooth against her fingers. She lifted it up, dragging the cloth up over his pale skin. Hard muscle rippled over his abdomen. She reached out and brushed her fingers over the small hills, as if she was playing an instrument.

  His skin felt smooth. Fine, blond hairs dotted his chest, adding color to an otherwise pale landscape. She didn’t see the tattoo, but it could be lower on his hip. There would be only one way to find out…

  She brushed her fingers down and gently undid the belt buckle of his jeans.

  Donar groaned, and Tar
a stilled her hands and glanced up at his face. He had turned his head, but his eyes were still closed. He seemed close to regaining consciousness. She’d have to hurry.

  She undid his belt and button, then slowly unzipped his fly. The noise from the zipper echoed through the room and Tara winced at the noise. She’d be hard-pressed to explain herself if he caught her with her hand in his pants. She glanced up at him one more time, then continued with her work.

  She opened the zipper all the way, then pulled back the flap. Good heavens…

  So, Donar liked to go commando. Good to know. Heat surged through her body as she examined his skin. The man was beautiful, she’d give him that. Coarse hair dotted his pelvis, directing her gaze to the base of his cock peeking out from his jeans. So very tempting. She slipped her fingers along the edge of his pants, then paused. The head had been tucked under his pants, and reached down between his legs.

  Tara moistened her lips as she stared at the tuft of blond hair at the base of his shaft. She wanted to run her fingers through it, to grab his base and free his length from his constricting jeans.

  She shook her head. Why was she having such thoughts? Even though she had been poring over their files for months, she barely knew them. These men weren’t her playthings. They had information that could help save the Iatros and further Darien’s cause to rid the world of deahmans.

  They were her mission, nothing more.

  Then why did she want to get naked and crawl into bed with them? Not just one, but both of them? It made no sense.

  Tara forced the sensual thoughts from her mind and tried to focus on her objective. She needed to confirm with Sparrow that they were the twins from Darien’s team.

  Darien had mentioned that the twins and Sparrow were recruited from some secret society of assassins, and that all three of them had diamond earrings and tattoos as a mark of their former loyalty. She inched the flap farther back and saw the head of a snake looking back at her. Bingo.

  But it was just a snake’s head. She had to confirm that the entire tattoo was there, didn’t she?

  Of course she did. For all she knew, Donar could only have the head of a snake, no body and no sword. She had to see the whole tattoo to be sure. And if his cock sprang free in the process, well, that would just be a bonus.

  She eased his jeans back farther and saw more of the tattoo. It had faded with age, but was unmistakable. It ran down along the side of his hip and dipped beneath his pants. She also saw the hilt of a large sword.

  This was definitely one of the twins. She’d bet her life that Soren had one that matched.

  She glanced back at Donar’s cock and frowned when she discovered it was still buried in his pants. Damn. Maybe if she inched the jeans down another inch…

  A man’s voice shot through the air and Tara realized that Sparrow was shouting on the phone. Just her luck. She sighed and went back to retrieve it.

  “It’s there all right,” she said.

  “What took you so long?”

  “I had to slide his pants down far enough to see it without disturbing him.”

  “Did you take a picture?”

  “A what?”

  “You heard me. I have to be sure.”

  “My word isn’t good enough?”

  “Not for something this important.”

  Tara sighed. When would these people start trusting her? Once again, old inadequacies rose to the surface. She was never strong enough or powerful enough, or smart enough. It was almost as if she was an outcast in the Iatros society, an embarrassment.

  She frowned as she walked back to the bed and climbed onto the edge. After fumbling with the phone, she eased back Donar’s jeans once more and took a picture. She was careful to leave his shaft out of the shot. While she enjoyed the view, she suspected Sparrow didn’t.

  “There, satisfied?” she asked after she sent the picture.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “What do I do now?”

  “Nothing. We’ll be there within the hour to take them back to Celestial Wood for debriefing.”

  “I can do that myself.”

  “It will be better if we do it. We’re more able to defend them if something happens.”

  Why did people always make her feel inferior? “You’re just a human.”

  “Yeah, but a very deadly human.”

  “Very funny.”

  Sparrow laughed. “Stay put. Help is on the way.”

  “Okay, will do.” She closed the phone and tossed it to the bureau. She was so tired of feeling as if she was a second-class citizen. Just like she couldn’t chose her spirit-mate, Tara had no control over how much magic the mother-goddess chose to give her. She couldn’t help that others were smarter or more powerful. For once, just once, it would be nice to have someone who trusted her, who looked up to her.

  She looked around the room as she tried to shake off her self-pity. It was rather unfortunate that Samir wasn’t back with coffee yet. She could really use a cup. What was taking him so long?

  She walked back to the bed and stared at Donar’s abdomen. He looked so…edible. Heat rose up and slid over her skin and desire surged in her veins. She wondered if she should risk peeking at his tattoo once more.

  Keeping her eyes locked on his face, Tara reached down and eased back the edge of his jeans. So far, so good. She glanced down and once again saw the head of the snake staring back at her. She wondered what it would be like to lick his tattoo, starting down at the tail and working all the way up to the head. What would it taste like?

  She flicked her gaze from the tattoo to the base of his shaft. After she tasted his tattoo, she’d taste his cock. Would it be salty or sweet? Would he shudder beneath her or dig his fingers into her hair and urge her faster? Hopefully he’d do a little of both.

  Tara glanced up at his face. Would he notice if she touched it? Just one brush of the fingers, then she’d leave him alone.

  She kept her gaze locked on his face as she slid her hand across the coarse hairs of his lower abdomen. He felt hard, yet smooth. She glanced down as curiosity took hold. Just one little peek, and then she’d put him back. He’d never be the wiser.

  Tara moistened her lips as she dipped her fingers lower and eased them around the base of his shaft.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Tara heart beat quickened as she stilled her hand and met Donar’s curious, crimson gaze.

  Chapter Four

  Donar stared in disbelief at the beautiful woman with her hand in his pants. Talk about hitting the lottery. He had no idea how she had gotten there, or why she was doing what she was doing, but it didn’t matter. She was a fine female specimen with all of that black hair and pale skin, and his inner darkness purred with approval.

  “Do it,” he challenged.

  She jerked her hand back, causing her small, pert breasts to bounce in her neon purple bra. It was very considerate of her to take off her shirt for him, but he wondered why she decided to leave her bra on. Was she modest? She had left her hip-hugging jeans and black boots on too. Didn’t she want him to touch her? No matter. She’d remove her clothes soon enough. His deahman would demand it of her and she’d have no choice but to obey.

  Everyone obeyed his deahman, including him.

  “Free it for me.” His voice sounded rough to his ears. How odd. He didn’t want to focus on that however. It was too boring. Getting the woman to wrap her fingers around his cock once more was much more entertaining.

  “I didn’t mean to…” The woman placed her fingers over her lips. Was she embarrassed? Why? Sex was a basic need, one that every living creature needed fulfilled. It was nothing to be ashamed of.

  “Oh, I think I know exactly what you meant to do.” He nodded toward his aching erection. “Go ahead, free it.” If she didn’t do something soon, he was going to lose the last shed of sanity he had. He could feel his inner deahman pacing around in his mind and testing his will. It wanted the freedom to do what it wanted. All Donar had
to do was to lower his defenses, lose himself to his emotions and his inner monster would be free.

  His human half knew that he needed to stand up and walk away, but he couldn’t move. Fuck, he could barely breathe with her looking at him like that.

  She turned back to his jeans. “I need to lower your pants.”

  Ah, that was more like it. He hooked his feet into the bed and lifted his hips. “Be my guest.”

  Tara hesitated, then reached down and grabbed hold of the jeans with shaking hands. “Are you sure?” she asked.

  He almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  She gently inched his jeans down over his ass. The woman moved with agonizing slowness. Donar squeezed his eyes shut as her soft fingers slid down his hips and eased over his outer thighs. His cock sprang free from its constraints and he breathed a sigh of relief. Now if he could only get her to touch it…

  He settled back on the bed and looked down at the large purple head of his cock, sticking up in the air between them. He was so eager that he had already begun to leak moisture. What was it about this woman that had him behaving like a schoolboy?

  He felt his deahman pace inside his head. With every second, it was getting stronger. It needed to feed, which meant that Donar needed to have sex—either that or bust someone’s head against a wall. Donar always preferred to feed his deahman with sex rather than violence. It was much more pleasurable.

  “You’re big,” she said.

  “I can be bigger.” He steeled his jaw as he fought the rising darkness inside of him. It was imperative that he held onto his control. If he lost himself to his emotions, then he’d lose to his deahman, and then the feisty little vixen pulling down his pants would get hurt. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, least of all her.

  The woman wrapped her fingers around his base and slowly ran her hand up his shaft, caressing him from root to the tip.

  Oh sweet… Donar groaned and closed his eyes. “That’s it. Keep doing that.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”