A Sexy Spy
Thriller
by
Sascha
Illyvich
Copyright
2015 Sascha Illyvich
1st
paperback edition ISBN-10: 1-62827-993-1
1st
paperback edition ISBN-13: 978-1-62827-993-1
1st
Kindle ebook edition ISBN-10: 1-62827-994-X
1st
Kindle ebook edition ISBN-13: 978-1-62827-994-8
This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are products of this author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons
living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Published
by Ardent Books, an imprint of Assent Publishing
Chapter
One
The shitty light
show didn’t bother his eyes; he was otherworldly. The extra effort of the band
onstage was lost on both him and and the other patrons slowly filling in to see
the main act.
He’d been in
worse places with even crappier light. Such was the life of a spy, especially
one who could move between worlds like Derrick. The term spook didn’t just hold
true for his human side; it was reinforced exponentially for him as a shifter.
Tonight he
wasn’t here to think of the past.
Stale cigarette
smoke and sweat hung in the air, irritating Derrick’s puma senses. After thirty
minutes, the opening band managed to move the crowd into some semblance of
frenzy, if the tiny mosh pit could be called that.
Too bad no one
gave a shit about the poorly expressed political message in the band’s lyrics.
Derrick stood in
the back with the bartender, Rob, a leather-clad human that dwarfed most
people. Rob’s auburn curls emphasized the scariness of his face; black eyes
sunk deep into a skull that might have made Derrick afraid if he were simply
human.
Pumas didn’t
fear mankind. A two-hundred-pound solid mass of muscle that could easily leap
eighteen feet need not fear anyone, especially when it could tear out the
throat of its victims with ease.
Scanning the
crowd, Derrick swirled his drink around and took a sip. The Manhattan slid down
his throat before he set the glass on the bar and another quickly sailed his
way.
Derrick reached
for his wallet while thunderous kick drums, booming bass guitar, and fast riffs
from the band onstage assaulted his ears.
Rob’s voice
didn’t change despite the loudness in the club. “No charge. You’ll want to sip
this one slowly, though, Derrick. In fact, keep your eyes on the stage.”
Nodding, Derrick
turned to face the stage, grateful for his enhanced hearing. He could actually
hear Rob’s words over the riffs played by the newest band in the death metal
scene.
The band
Ark-KaotiK jammed loud and fast onstage, causing a melee of noise while the
crowd erupted into a mosh pit that would have made the Devil himself proud. For
thirty minutes, they cranked out chords, kicked off melodies, and warmed up.
Derrick sipped
his drink and kept an eye on the crowd. Many of the concertgoers were human,
though he noticed a few wolves and bears had made their way in. As a former
spy, he’d learned to watch the crowd for signs of violence, ignoring most of
their behavior as harmless. Metal music listeners tended to get a little raucous,
especially since this was one of the largest bands making the death metal
circuit.
After a few more
minutes of jamming, his target would appear onstage.
Ark-KaotiK
sported a drummer on a par with the greatest of technical death metal drummers.
Their guitarist played complex riffs and melodic rhythms like nobody else.
Their bass player proved capable of bringing out a thunderous low end.
Sonja, their
legendary lead singer, made them the most amazing death metal band around.
Stories
circulated in the paranormal community about a witch with the voice of a
goddess and the power to influence crowds. At a time in the country when waves
of violent uprisings by angry mobs fed up with class inequality were becoming
the norm, the youth remained neglected. Many of the displaced youth did what
they did best: went to metal shows, got drunk, and took out their aggression on
willing and sometimes unwilling participants.
Supposedly,
Sonja could control all of that with her voice.
The tension in
the crowd had risen to an all-time high. The previous band managed to pull out
charisma at the last moment and rile up the crowd, jumbling listener emotions,
serving as a reminder to many of the patrons of class warfare issues and
capitalist pig ideas. Combined with alcohol, drug use, the aforementioned
tension levels created a powder keg of violence. Already, two fights had been
broken up between two were-beings. That couldn’t be allowed to continue. Humans
would get hurt, a body count would be established, and everything that had been
done by those in the shifter community to improve the perception of humans
would be torn asunder.
Derrick chose to
keep his distance from the crowd. Rob had asked him to watch the lead singer,
tail her, keep her safe. Hanging back gave him the best vantage point; he could
see who came in while he watched the stage.
“I really
appreciate you coming out to watch her. I’d apologize about the music but—”
Derrick held a
hand up. “It’s no problem. I’m a fan. Besides, you did me a favor, so thanks.”
Rob arched a
brow. “I did?”
“Let’s just
leave it at I needed to get out of the house.” Derrick smiled.
His routine
hangout was the cigar club on the other side of town. Pumas were notorious
loners. In his normal crowd, he hung out alone or included himself in conversation
as he saw fit.
Except among his
few friends, Derrick affiliated himself as a diehard metal head. If a show came
to his part of town and even one of the bands was someone he listened to, he
showed up. The large crowds allowed him to get out and mix his aggression with
theirs. If he didn’t, he became irritable and that tended to turn off any women
who might otherwise share his bed.
He had no
misconceptions about sex. At his age, he could still have any woman he wanted,
but commitment scared him. He shunned the idea after his last few
relationships. Nicole turned out to be psycho. Mahalia couldn’t deal with him
being a shifter. Margaret worried for his safety when he admitted to being a
spy, and she hated the lies he had to tell her.
Most of them wanted
commitment.
Even though he
was out of the spy game, he still had reservations from his past that kept him
from seeking a lifelong partner.
Except for the
dry spell he’d been in, Derrick had a pretty decent sexual career, but his
heart was empty and he desperately craved companionship.
Tonight, he
wanted none of that. Tonight would be for the music, the drinking, and keeping
the peace. And, oh yeah, protecting his target.
The lights went
down.
The band left
the stage.
Another drink
slid across the bar.
Without looking,
Derrick extended his hand and caught the glass before bringing it to his lips.
Cool liquor slid down his throat and sent tingles racing through him.
Screaming voices
erupted from the PA and mixed with loud thunderclaps followed by rain. A mist
appeared from the darkness, illuminated by purple and blue lights just above
the stage. The crowd quieted down just enough to let the aural buildup occur.
Then the rain stopped.
A thundercloud
outside shook the walls of the bar and boomed against the brick and mortar. A
few hushed gasps immerged from random places in the audience.
The sound of
shattering glass pulled Derrick’s attention center stage.
On the stage, he
noticed what appeared to be glass shards reassembling themselves.
He scratched his
head and did a double take.
Yup, the glass
was indeed reassembling itself into the wine bottle it had once been.
Then it floated
offstage while band members took their places, instruments in hand.
The small lead
singer dispersed the smoke with a wave of her hand.
At the same
time, the lights kicked on, the band started playing, and the lead singer
emitted the most beautiful growls through the mic.
His heart
thundered in his chest, blood pooled south. Derrick did another double take. He
couldn’t quite wrap his head around the now-angry screams coming from the woman
onstage.
She belted,
grunted, made the disjointed music make sense.
Metal had a way
of being both darkly angry and intensely beautiful if the singer’s voice and
lyrics could captivate the listener.
Worse yet, she’d
captured the attention of his dick. Hands angrily gripped the microphone. Dark,
waist-length hair swirled around and fell at her sides, blanketing her face;
Derrick saw plump lips ripe for kissing. Her ample chest rose and fell with
each breath she took.
She moved with
grace. Power spilled off her in time with the music.
The audience
followed her every move.
The mosh pit
opened up; bodies slammed hard into one another.
Then, as if they
weren’t a death metal band at all, their music changed tones, became melodic.
Her singing matched the music, and all the weight of the aggressive pit seemed
to lift off the humans and into the air.
The pit slowed
down.
Derrick watched
the woman who now sang with an angel’s voice in absolute amazement.
Slowly, he slid
off the barstool and made his way toward her, only to be stopped by Rob’s hand
on his arm.
He looked over
his shoulder and almost growled back at Rob.
The bartender
shook his head. “Something’s wrong. She’s calling to all the shifters to come
closer, to let go of their animalistic violence fetish. You go to her now,
she’ll own you. Shake it off.”
Derrick must
have looked puzzled because Rob scowled. “I’ll introduce you after the show.
Trust me.”
He shook his
head and found Rob staring back at him. “Thanks.” Derrick took his place back
on the stool. He’d wait, but that melodic voice carrying such pain and sorrow
had already woven a spell on him. The glint in her silver-blue eyes caught his
gaze and helped push sensual lust into her death-laced lyrics.
Something
resonated deep in his bones, but he didn’t quite understand why. Never had he
felt a power like hers.
The overwhelming
need to wrap his arms around her and hold her startled him.
The band went
into the second song—a nonstop blast-beat number with rhythmic guitars that
created the perfect scene of darkness and despair while Sonja continued
singing. Sumptuous, clean vocals nearly forced him off the stool again.
Rob clapped his
hand on Derrick’s shoulder and applied a bit more pressure. Derrick didn’t look
back, but he gripped the bar until his knuckles ached.
She sang and
took the audience on an auditory journey of a troubled teen struggling into
adulthood who ultimately took his own life.
As hard as he
was, Derrick found himself wanting to comfort Sonja now.
Lights flashed
in sync with the rapid-fire drum kicks and created a strobe light effect.
Derrick leaned
forward while still holding his drink. Lights onstage gave Sonja a more
dramatic appearance. Corpse paint covered her round face; eye shadow set her
eyes deeper in her skull than they really were; blood-red hair looked like the
darkest tar. A charcoal sweater clung to full breasts and showed off a flat
tummy meant for licking. Black leather hugged luscious hips. Derrick couldn’t
pull his eyes away from her sultry swagger.
A third song
morphed into a fourth, and an hour later, the band retired for the night after
playing one encore. Sonja thanked the crowd and tossed the microphone onto the
stage.
Derrick noted
the mood in the bar as it slowly emptied out. People, moods, everything seemed
lighter.
The air of
danger and despair had fallen prey to sadness, acceptance, and finally relief.
His body still
thrummed with sexual need.
Derrick finished
another Manhattan and turned to pay the bartender.
“No need.” Rob
shook his head. Auburn curls spilled down the sides of his face. Black paint
around his eyes made them appear to be sunken deeper into his skull. “Give them
a few minutes to clear out and I’ll take you backstage to meet Sonja.
She’s…waiting for you.”
Derrick didn’t
understand but nodded anyway. The nervous underlying tones in Rob’s voice made
him wary. He gripped the glass, spun it around on the bar, and slid it toward
Rob.
With typical
bartender flair, Rob caught it, tossed the ice, and set the glass in the
dishwasher.
A bottle of
water flew past a patron and ended up in Derrick’s hand.
“I am still
amazed at your speed.” Rob laughed.
His ears rang
but he could still hear Rob with precision. Derrick popped the top off. “You’ve
got speed yourself and you’re not even a shifter.”
Rob snorted.
“I’m something, that’s for sure.”
Derrick laughed.
“Indeed.”
He turned back
to the empty stage and watched roadies carry equipment away. His mind wandered
back to the singer, how her prowess on stage controlled the crowd with
exactness, getting them to move just as she directed them.
Many singers
were charismatic, but not like Sonja.
A few minutes
passed and the stage emptied. Rob reached out and grabbed Derrick’s shoulder.
“Come on. You want a proper introduction, right?”
Derrick nodded.
Heavy sexual energy consumed him, making him fear he’d say the wrong damn
thing. He made a mental note to keep his mouth shut and let Sonja do the
talking—if she had the voice for it.
Besides, he
wasn’t supposed to let her know he was watching her. As far as she would know, he
was just an old friend of Rob's from school.
Rob escorted
Derrick past the bar and down a long dark hallway. Fans ran on high and sent an
obvious chill through the bartender. The leather he wore proved no match for
the warmth of puma fur.
“Here’s her
room. Remember, she shouldn’t know I hired you to protect her. Nor does she
need to know about the note threatening her life. The guys typically head into
the hidden cellar here for a shower.”
“Right, we’re
just old friends from school. Took some of the same classes and I’m in town
visiting.”
Rob nodded.
“Right.”
Derrick rubbed
his chin. “You said something went wrong when she sang and began pulling
shifters toward the stage. What did you mean?”
“You’ll see in a
moment.” Rob pushed the door open.
Behind the
wooden slab that passed for a door, dimmed lights illuminated the area. Derrick
made out the leather couch and the sounds of muffled cries. He rushed in and
scanned the area.
Senses on high
alert, Derrick spotted the tiny woman with her head buried in her arms on the
couch. She curled up in a tight ball against the corner, sobbing…and clad in
only hip-hugging panties and a bra that pushed luscious curves upward.
Alabaster skin
glistened with sweat against the black leather couch. Her hair hid her face and
muffled her sobs. Derrick sighed but caught a whiff of something.
Heavy, dark.
Lonely.
“Sonja?” Rob
stepped in and knelt at her side. He reached out but didn’t quite touch her.
“Come here, Derrick. If I’m right…” Rob didn’t finish his statement.
Derrick stepped
inside and scratched his head.
Rob met
Derrick’s gaze dead on. “Now, please.”
The urgency in
Rob’s voice matched his concerned expression. Sonja’s sobs continued to tear at
his heart. He wanted to know who made her cry and why. Then he wanted to pummel
them. Vengeance filled him instantly.
Rob’s voice
floated through the rage and managed to ground Derrick back to reality. “Calm
down, Derrick. It’s not what you think. Take a deep breath, clear your mind,
and touch her. Please.”
Derrick knelt,
ran a hand through his hair, and sighed, letting all the worry slip away from
his mind. He found that calm place in the forest where the puma inside loved
running free, and went there. Luscious smells confronted his sensitive nose.
Colors sharpened. Then he returned to reality. Rob moved beside Sonja. His eyes
filled with despair. “Touch her, please.”
Derrick didn’t
miss the pain in Rob’s voice. What is
going on here?
He reached for
Sonja, touched a hand along her thigh. Smooth, soft skin met his.
Her thigh
twitched and she stiffened against his hand.
Derrick started
to withdraw but met Rob’s gaze.
“Not yet.”
Derrick nodded.
Sexual energy along with something else crackled between them and sent a
shudder through his body.
Sonja must have
felt it, too, because she shifted and straightened. Her eyes widened.
Derrick slid his
leather trench coat off and used it to cover her.
She sniffled and
lifted her head to meet his gaze. “Thank you.”
Intense silver-blue
eyes stared back at him with such force they threatened to knock him back. He
struggled to hold his ground, remaining unsure of whether to remove his hand.
She answered
that question by cupping his hand with hers and offering a weak smile. “You’re
tranquil,” she whispered.
Derrick nodded
and smiled weakly. “Sometimes. What’s going on?”
Sonja shifted
again, rolled her head back and forth. She swept a hand through her red hair
and brushed it over her shoulders. “I’m…empathic, and in this crowd there was
so much hatred. It’s overwhelming. I picked up on it instantly and it inundated
me.”
Blinking,
Derrick looked at Rob. “It’s like she was thrust in the middle of the mosh pit
before it started?”
Before Rob could
answer, Sonja nodded. “You’re a shifter. Your feelings are heavier than most.
Let me just touch you back.” She leaned forward and the jacket slid down her
body, exposing a black bra.
Her hand
caressed his cheek, then slid down his neck and stopped at his heart. She
pressed the palm of her hand against him and closed her eyes.
It hit him then,
the pressure of all he kept buried inside. Swamped with that weight, he
staggered forward, reached out for the couch, and found the warmth of Sonja’s
body wrapped around his.
Her sweet voice
echoed in his ear. “You’re…missing something.”
Inside,
Derrick’s mind went on high alert. She’d hit a trigger but his training kept
him from showing any emotion other than what he wanted her to see.
Rob coughed.
Derrick looked
to see Rob standing, Sonja glaring at him. Her brows furrowed, lips pursed
together in a thin line. “Brother, please.”
Derrick
stiffened and narrowed his eyes at Rob. “Brother? You didn’t tell me that, Rob.”
Rob sighed and
nodded. “Yes, I did. Night before last.”
Derrick frowned.
Sonya wrapped
her arms around Derrick’s waist and pulled him into softness that complimented
each hard bit of his body.
He felt right
sitting awkwardly in Sonja’s lap, but had to ask about the tears. He wasn’t a
total cad, though his body’s reaction certainly made itself known. “So the
tears were a reaction to the crowd?”
She nodded and
spoke in a whisper, “The crowd in this genre of music is so lonely, so angry,
so displaced. Add in a few shifters and it becomes burdensome when mixed with
all the normal pent-up aggression metal heads carry around. Sadly—or not, some
say—I absorb that burden in the music, with my voice.”
His heart felt
heavier.
Her hand pressed
harder against his chest.
Derrick felt a
weight lift off his shoulders. “It’s not—”
Two slender
fingers pressed against his lips. Eyelashes batted enticingly at him.
Derrick groaned.
He wanted to stretch her out on the couch and spread her legs apart while
exploring her with his tongue and lips. Her scent, sweat mixed with heady heat,
wafted past his nose. Yet he couldn’t make another move.
She was a
goddess. His nerves felt unsteady, his body was on fire.
Sonja adjusted
herself on the couch, pressing herself deeper between his spread thighs.
“I’d hate to be
confused for a groupie.” He went for humor, letting his natural sarcasm come
through.
She chuckled. “I
haven’t any groupies.”
Derrick arched a
brow. He wouldn’t point out the obvious to her yet, figuring she’d heard it all
the time. Instead, he went for subtle. “You’re a beautiful death metal singer.
Surely you have groupies.”
“Nope.” She
shook her head and leaned against the couch, pushing her breasts into his
chest. “None. I mean there are boys and girls who have a silly attraction to
me, but it’s not returned.”
“Good to know.”
He couldn’t keep the growl from his voice.
“Ahem.” Rob
coughed again. “I should leave you two alone.” He glared hard at Derrick. “Be
nice to my sister. She’s rather special, puma.”
The unmentioned
threat hung in the air. Not that it mattered, Derrick was hired to do a job,
not to fraternize with the severely attractive client. He smiled. “I
understand.”
Rob glowered and
backed out of the room, shutting the door.
Sonja slid one
leg from beneath her, giving Derrick a view of very creamy skin and shapely
thigh. She tilted her head slightly. “He’s very protective. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged
again. “I would be, too. You’re an attractive woman, and I may be a shifter but
I’m still a man. I was…”
“Dying to meet
me?” Her eyes twinkled with something that looked like lust.
He shrugged and
grinned. “Yeah. Sort of.”
“How do you know
my brother?”
“Friends from
school.” Derrick leaned back while not breaking the physical contact.
A brow quirked.
“I see. Funny, he never mentioned you.”
“Yeah, we lost
touch after graduation. I had a thing overseas. Real hush-hush.” Half-truth.
Sonja stretched
her other leg out from beneath her and shifted in her seat, giving Derrick a
fabulous view of her contours.
Instantly, he
wondered why she was practically nude after the show. “Are you that hot and
sweaty up there on stage?”
She rolled her
shoulders and shook out her hands. “A little, yes. But the problem I have is
that not only do I pick up the feelings, they mold to my clothing. Especially
with the previous band pushing a message of hatred, I picked up a lot of
negative rage. When I came back here, I stripped off the clothes.”
He licked his
lips. “So your underwear doesn’t pick things up? I’m very much enjoying the
physical contact.”
She smirked.
“All clothing I wear picks up some semblance of emotion, it’s part of my nature.
But I’m not a slut. And that clothing is hot. I mean, we wear all black.”
He chuckled.
“I’d never think that of you. I can only imagine what it’s like to be in the
limelight and need the break. And I’ll mention again, I’m certainly enjoying
the view.”
Sonja flipped
her hair off to one side, showing the pale curve of her neck. “I figured you
would. I sort of sought you out.” A light blush crept up her cheeks.
“Oh?” He cocked
a brow. If she knew his purpose, she hadn’t let on yet. “Why?”
She leaned forward,
giving him an even better view of ample cleavage. “I don’t know. You
felt…safe.” She closed her eyes, puckered her lips, and made a popping sound
before returning her focus on him.
“Honey, I’m
anything but.” He let his voice drop, watching her expression slowly change.
The deep-blue
shade of her eyes intensified, the silver irises appeared to swirl. Energy
poured out from her so fast that it slammed into Derrick like a freight train.
Memories,
screams, visceral images all bombarded him. The instant message his mind
received had only one thing: bleak blackness so heavy, so dark it made the
winter night sky look like the middle of a sunny summer day.
He slid off the
couch, stumbled back. Hands at his sides, he tried to brace himself for the
next wave but it hit him too fast. Nausea settled in his stomach and all of
those Manhattans he’d drunk earlier threatened to come up, bringing bile with
them.
The sensation
dizzied him, brought him to his knees.
All the agony he
kept buried and all the trepidation the puma had about killing—even though
nature said otherwise—made him howl out. He opened his eyes and saw the sight
of himself being forced to burn a village because some government jackass was
breathing orders to eliminate the warlords of that village by whatever means
necessary down his neck.
That meant
force. A lot of force because the villagers had been trained in guerilla
warfare and wouldn’t hesitate to shoot the foreign shifter menace.
Derrick had no
idea what was waiting for him or his brother once they arrived.
Max hadn’t slept
any more soundly than Derrick since their return, and Derrick left that mission
in the past with all the other ghosts that haunted him.
Or at least he
thought he’d buried the dead. He opened his mouth to scream but nothing came
out. Not even a puma cry.
Just then, soft
arms surrounded him and forced him back to reality. Sonja held him to her,
whispering sweet words while the energy pulled back from him. “I’m sorry. I’m
so very sorry. Relax, please. Calm down, babe. Let me help you.” Her hand
caressed the small of his back, ran up his spine. Fingers crept on his neck,
teasing little hairs to attention along with other things.
He shook with a
fear so dark it threatened to pull him over the edge into a bottomless abyss.
Behind tightly closed eyes, he saw his puma standing at the edge of that cliff,
overlooking the canyon while the hordes of victims he’d mindlessly executed
with the click of a button slowly slipped away.
Derrick shook
his head.
Sweet sounds of
feminine laughter fluttered over his ears like the day’s fresh breeze.
The puma shook
its muzzle, and Derrick saw creamy flesh eager for tasting.
He lifted his
head, met her heated gaze, and pressed his lips to hers. Unthinking, his mind
went on autopilot and led his body into hers. The energy around them charged
with a different heat, one filled with promises of lust and darker, sensual
fun.
Just the
briefest of touches against her lips threatened to steal his control. Was this
her magic or the pure attraction the two obviously shared?
Hands gripped
his shoulders, nails dug into his flesh.
Derrick caught
her arms, caressed them. Felt waning strength in them and vowed to support her
if she felt even an ounce of the heat between them that he did.
Soft, full lips
kissed him, parted for his tongue, curled upward in a smile when he swept his
tongue over her bottom lip. Fingers tangled in his hair, in hers, too,
caressing her while he ate at her mouth, then pulled back, met her fierce
stare, saw the power in those eyes.
Knew she’d play
with his beast.
The puma in him wagged
its tail.
The second round
was all Sonja, all control, all feminine power. Her arms wrapped around his
neck, fingers locked behind his head while she moved him how she wanted him.
Her body pressed into his, making the kiss a full-on affair, rather than the
chaste kiss he’d given her earlier.
Then she pulled
back and he swore he heard a growl that didn’t come from him.
Low, the sound
vibrated and made him even more eager to taste her. But he remembered her
earlier, trembling and afraid in the corner of the couch, curled up in a ball.
So he did the sweet thing, shut his libido down, and took his cue from the
rational thinking part of his brain that still had some blood flow.
When he kissed
her, her perfect mouth kissed back, then pulled away. She kissed his nose, then
moved to kiss his forehead. Desire still danced in her eyes all while a sweeter
side of this woman emerged—something Derrick had never expected, not after
seeing her onstage.
Then she leaned
in again, smiled into the deepening kiss. Her mouth continued to work with his,
while her tongue licked his lower lip.
Her arousal,
along with the taste of fine brandy, filled his nostrils, surrounded him.
Hardened him further. Quickly, he realized if he didn’t stop this train he’d
either have her naked and owe her a new bra and panty set—not a problem—or just
fuck it and shove the damn things aside while he ravished her.
Slowly the
pressure on his mouth eased up. His mouth felt empty from the loss of contact.
She moved back
and frowned.
Her expression
confused him. “What? Was I too forward? I thought—”
She rose, shook,
and wrapped her arms around her body. Turning, she headed back to the couch and
curled up against the corner.
Derrick stood
and stepped back. He didn’t know what had just happened, but he needed to get
Rob. His client was going to be more difficult to watch if she couldn’t control
her magic.
He never took
his eyes off her as he backed into the door with a thud.
Sonja looked up
with tears in her eyes. She sniffled, brushed strands of deep red hair away
from her face, and mouthed, “Please stay.”
Something heavy
coated the air and filled his lungs. The scent he couldn’t place was wet,
humid. Then it became arid before disappearing completely. Odd, Derrick had
never had that experience before. He shrugged, leaned back against the
doorframe. Crossing his arms over his chest, he eyed her with wariness usually
reserved for an opponent. “Are you sure? I can get Rob.”
“No!” She
covered her mouth with her hand. The noise came out as a growl and made the
puma inside Derrick take notice, almost as if it had found a mate in Sonja.
He didn’t
understand her. The weight she carried pressed down on his shoulders with
steadily increasing tension. Derrick had no intention of letting it best him.
“What can I do?”
“Just…” Her
voice shook with fear. “Hold me please.”
“Are you sure?”
As he took a tentative step toward her, he prepared himself for another bout of
energy to come flailing at him, but after that first step, none came. Then he
took another. His body ached to come to her, to comfort her even though they’d
barely met. Sex consumed his brain, definitely. His cock hardened painfully.
He’d already sampled the sweetness of her lips, but the way her eyes opened
wide with shock and anger, then fear, bothered him and did little to shut down
his libido.
The puma wanted
to claim her. It had been too long since he’d been with another. The human mind
knew better.
Slowly, he
stepped toward the couch and knelt before her. He reached for her, touched her, and felt tranquility wash
over him like a warm blanket on a cool evening.
That was the
best way he could describe it. “How did you do that?”
She lifted her
head, spoke low, “I have to readjust to the larger crowds. It’s becoming tougher
to control my emotional outpouring and what I take in. I told you, you’re
calming.”
He laughed
again, then met her stare. Realized she believed what she said. He sighed.
“Fine. I’m calming. But if that’s the case, what’s going on?” When she didn’t
reply, Derrick moved to the couch and wrapped his arms around her body. Somehow
he knew she’d fit perfectly with the way he sat. “Like this?”
She scooted against
him, pressed her perfectly round and panty-clad backside into his crotch. Her
head rested on his shoulder. “Yeah, just like that.”
He looked up,
then back at her. He caressed her hair, enjoying the feel of silky smooth
strands fluttering through his fingers. Puma senses picked up her scent, lush
and of the forest, wet moss and pine. Oak and earth undertones reminded him of
the peace he used to find as a child playing with his sibling.
She shook
against him.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s…not your
fault.” The faint whisper of her voice indicated just how strained she’d been.
“Okay. Just try to steady your mind. In the morning I can do it for you, but
until then…” Her sentence drifted off. Her chest rose and fell above his
forearms, indicating she’d drifted off to sleep.
It took a
moment, but Derrick cleared his mind of all the day’s events. In a few breaths,
he allowed his focus to center on Sonja’s steady breathing. He stretched his
legs and wrapped himself around the sexy little death metal singer who took on
the weight of the world and made it her own. Oh, and somehow found a liking by
his puma.
Rob would have
to explain more to him in the morning. For now, he wondered where the rest of
the band mates were and why no one had bothered to check on her.
She was their
front man after all.
Only a day ago,
Rob had come to Derrick asking for protection for his sister. He paid a portion
in cash and offered Derrick free drinks if he’d show up.
“You can’t go to
the police with this? They’re better equipped—”
“No.” Rob cut
him off. “They lack experience with this sort of thing. Plus, you’re not the
only one the Anti-Shifter League has a grudge against. They’re not a fan of
witches, and Sonja is one of the strongest out there. At least that we know
of.”
“Her magic can’t
keep her safe?”
“No.” Rob had
shaken his head. “No one else’s can. She needs a bodyguard, a protector and
champion who will support her.”
“Sounds like
you’re trying to set us up.” Derrick crossed his arms and leaned back in his
chair. He’d slid his sunglasses on, started to stand, but Rob put his hand out,
grabbed him.
“She’s so very
important. She’s lonely, and anything I do to bring this to her attention is
simply going to make her worry more but be more reckless with her power.
She’s…” His eyes pleaded.
Derrick couldn’t
stand it. “The weak and underprivileged. There are others out there who can
deal with terror threats like this. What do they want?”
“Control of her
power. But I know you can keep her safe.”
Again, Derrick
sighed. He had no idea how this man could put that much faith in someone he’d
just met. Even as a spy, Derrick knew most people—most creatures—were liars.
Not on purpose usually, but that’s just the condition of life.
“Please?”
How Rob found
Derrick puzzled him. There were a few spooks still doing side jobs in between
operations and whatnot, but Derrick was most certainly on the do-not-touch
list.
He’d never
discussed the secret agent stuff with anyone but Max. Then Rob showed up asking
for a favor that sounded like something a former spy could do.
Being a spy had
privileges, but after a while, it became difficult to tell who the real enemy
was and what he truly fought for.
The second he
had the chance to escape that nonsense and move to California, he took it.
And he ended up
here, on a leather couch holding a beautiful woman, the lead singer of the most
famous death metal band around.
She wasn’t just
a witch, she was an empath, but how far did her powers extend?
Now that he’d
seen her power firsthand, he understood why people would easily target her and
try to use her. If she could knock him down by just lessening control over her
thoughts and the crap she’d taken in, she could be a violent weapon. She was
the one who calmed him down when the night terrors hit him full force.
She took those
visions away much faster than the drinks and pills ever could.
Others could use
her to do great damage to the world. He had to prevent that. That’s why Rob
hired him.
He’d detected no
threats in the crowd. No rogues, no black ops teams, no nut jobs nuttier than
the usual religious freaks who protested and promoted a religious agenda safe
from supposed persecution and damnation.
For the time
being, she would be safe here.
The buy link:
His links:
Sascha Bio:
Sascha, who was proclaimed by the publishing industry as The
Bad Boy of Romance, started writing sixteen years ago. His erotic romances have
been listed under Night Owl Romance’s and Road to Romance’s Recommended read
lists, and he’s been nominated for a CAPA by The Romance Studio. Recently, Torn to Pieces was a USA TODAY
Recommended Read.
Sascha is a trained and experienced public speaker, and
enjoys giving talks and teaching, particularly on aspects of romance, erotic
romance, and writing. He was the former
host of The Unnamed Romance Show on Radio Dentata, and is fond of doing guest
spots and interviews, on both traditional radio and podcasts.
Sascha writes for Assent Publishing, Red Sage, Secret
Cravings Publishing, Sizzler Editions, Totally Bound, and Decadent Publishing.
