Whoa. Brow-raising. The brow-raising-est she’d ever seen.
How could he last this long? He wasn’t even out of breath. Maybe she’d have more sex if other guys had his staying power. Her handful of quick-draw hookups hadn’t been worth the admission price of a condom.
As she watched this tall stranger working his body—sometimes stirring his lean hips, other times withdrawing to the tip to slam back in—she wondered what his tanned, smooth skin would feel like. Smell like. When Jo was in ghost-mode, her super-keen sense of smell was weakened.
She’d bet Rune didn’t wear Axe.
Her gaze locked on the pulse point in his neck. The slow, steady rhythm was hypnotic.
Beat . . . beat . . . beat . . .
Amazingly, the tempo wasn’t speeding up.
How would he react if she pierced that pulse point with a fang? What would he taste like?
And still he was going. His stamina had to be supernatural. Plus, the women were almost too pretty. Jo suspected these people were otherworldly.
What she called freaks.
From her hidden vantages along New Orleans streets, she’d spied paranormal people doing inhuman deeds. Which made her wonder—what if she wasn’t some kind of abomination who’d been resurrected from hell? She might be one among many.
She reached for her necklace, fingering the string of misshapen bullets. She never took it off, still kept it as a token of the night she’d risen from the dead.
But her discovery of other freaks had made her start rethinking herself, her world.
Her decision to remain away from Thad.
She’d approached some of these strange beings with questions on her lips: What am I? How did I come to be? Are there others like me? Yet they’d fled her.
She had a feeling this male wouldn’t. She could talk to him once he got finished! She’d be on guard, of course, ready to bare her claws and fangs if things went sideways. . . . Jo supposed she still was like a feral cat.
Appearing lost, the blonde leaned up to kiss him, but he averted his face. Interesting.
The other three whispered to each other:
“I forget myself sometimes too.”
“Can you imagine what he could do with that mouth? If only . . .”
“Why’d he have to be a bane?”
The man must be able to hear their soft voices. He narrowed his eyes, his lips thinning with irritation, even midthrust. Jo felt sorry for him.
“Have you ever seen his black blood?”
“His cock isn’t poisonous, and that’s all that really matters.”
Poisonous? Black blood? He was definitely a freak!
The bouncing blonde cupped his craggy face. “MORE! I’m so close! Don’t stop, Rune, don’t stop!”
He stopped.
“Noooo!” the woman wailed.
“You want more? I won’t disappoint you, dove.” His deep voice had an unusual accent Jo couldn’t place. “But you can’t disappoint me. Promise me you’ll do as I’ve asked.”
He was using sex to manipulate the chick? What an asshole. Strike feeling sorry for him.
The woman’s expression grew frantic. “I will! I swear, SWEAR! Just pleasepleaseplease keep going!”
Rune chucked her under the chin and grinned at her; she seemed to dissolve. “Good girls get rewards, don’t they?”
Jo would laugh in his face if he talked to her like that. The blonde nodded helplessly.
He resumed with a harsh shove. The woman convulsed on his big dick, babbling between cries.
“This is what you want, dove?” he demanded. “My cock’s all that really matters, is it not? You can’t live without it, can you?” So arrogant!
The blonde whimpered, shaking her head. The other women gazed at him as if he were a god.
Jo’s plan to ask him stuff grew less appetizing by the second. Would he make her beg for information, or toy with her? But she stayed. She wanted to see him get off. To watch as he lost his iron control.
To see him vulnerable.
Her gaze returned to that pulse point. Would his blood truly be black? She fantasized about it coursing through his veins, all over that gorgeous body.
Her fangs sharpened. Her heart began to thud, her spectral breaths shallowing. She struggled for control. As ever, heightened emotions affected her ghosting, making it harder to stay intangible. If she materialized even a little, these freaks might be able to sense her presence.
Her body started to float downward like a weighted balloon. No, not yet. He probably wouldn’t be keen to talk if he discovered she’d spied on his orgy. She’d have to leave before she materialized, then “run into” him later.
The blonde began screaming in ecstasy. Though Rune was pummeling her, and she was orgasming all over him, he smiled and calmly purred, “I’m coming.”
The woman gazed up at him in moaning awe.
He briefly froze. Then his hips pistoned. Thrust, thrust, thrust, THRUST, THRUST.
With a smirk, he stilled. He was done? He’d just come! Jo had risked staying for that? If she’d blinked, she might’ve missed it.
When her gaze dipped to his ass and her breaths shallowed even more, she made for the exit. Over her shoulder, she took one last glance at his pulse point.
Its beat had never sped up.
FIVE
Meadowberries mixed with warm rain.
Another female was nearby—and, gods almighty, her sweet scent was mouthwatering.
Rune had just finished securing his last informant and was already envisioning the search for his Valkyrie target. Yet when he detected the new female’s scent, he found himself stiffening once more inside the nymph.
How could he last this long? He wasn’t even out of breath. Maybe she’d have more sex if other guys had his staying power. Her handful of quick-draw hookups hadn’t been worth the admission price of a condom.
As she watched this tall stranger working his body—sometimes stirring his lean hips, other times withdrawing to the tip to slam back in—she wondered what his tanned, smooth skin would feel like. Smell like. When Jo was in ghost-mode, her super-keen sense of smell was weakened.
She’d bet Rune didn’t wear Axe.
Her gaze locked on the pulse point in his neck. The slow, steady rhythm was hypnotic.
Beat . . . beat . . . beat . . .
Amazingly, the tempo wasn’t speeding up.
How would he react if she pierced that pulse point with a fang? What would he taste like?
And still he was going. His stamina had to be supernatural. Plus, the women were almost too pretty. Jo suspected these people were otherworldly.
What she called freaks.
From her hidden vantages along New Orleans streets, she’d spied paranormal people doing inhuman deeds. Which made her wonder—what if she wasn’t some kind of abomination who’d been resurrected from hell? She might be one among many.
She reached for her necklace, fingering the string of misshapen bullets. She never took it off, still kept it as a token of the night she’d risen from the dead.
But her discovery of other freaks had made her start rethinking herself, her world.
Her decision to remain away from Thad.
She’d approached some of these strange beings with questions on her lips: What am I? How did I come to be? Are there others like me? Yet they’d fled her.
She had a feeling this male wouldn’t. She could talk to him once he got finished! She’d be on guard, of course, ready to bare her claws and fangs if things went sideways. . . . Jo supposed she still was like a feral cat.
Appearing lost, the blonde leaned up to kiss him, but he averted his face. Interesting.
The other three whispered to each other:
“I forget myself sometimes too.”
“Can you imagine what he could do with that mouth? If only . . .”
“Why’d he have to be a bane?”
The man must be able to hear their soft voices. He narrowed his eyes, his lips thinning with irritation, even midthrust. Jo felt sorry for him.
“Have you ever seen his black blood?”
“His cock isn’t poisonous, and that’s all that really matters.”
Poisonous? Black blood? He was definitely a freak!
The bouncing blonde cupped his craggy face. “MORE! I’m so close! Don’t stop, Rune, don’t stop!”
He stopped.
“Noooo!” the woman wailed.
“You want more? I won’t disappoint you, dove.” His deep voice had an unusual accent Jo couldn’t place. “But you can’t disappoint me. Promise me you’ll do as I’ve asked.”
He was using sex to manipulate the chick? What an asshole. Strike feeling sorry for him.
The woman’s expression grew frantic. “I will! I swear, SWEAR! Just pleasepleaseplease keep going!”
Rune chucked her under the chin and grinned at her; she seemed to dissolve. “Good girls get rewards, don’t they?”
Jo would laugh in his face if he talked to her like that. The blonde nodded helplessly.
He resumed with a harsh shove. The woman convulsed on his big dick, babbling between cries.
“This is what you want, dove?” he demanded. “My cock’s all that really matters, is it not? You can’t live without it, can you?” So arrogant!
The blonde whimpered, shaking her head. The other women gazed at him as if he were a god.
Jo’s plan to ask him stuff grew less appetizing by the second. Would he make her beg for information, or toy with her? But she stayed. She wanted to see him get off. To watch as he lost his iron control.
To see him vulnerable.
Her gaze returned to that pulse point. Would his blood truly be black? She fantasized about it coursing through his veins, all over that gorgeous body.
Her fangs sharpened. Her heart began to thud, her spectral breaths shallowing. She struggled for control. As ever, heightened emotions affected her ghosting, making it harder to stay intangible. If she materialized even a little, these freaks might be able to sense her presence.
Her body started to float downward like a weighted balloon. No, not yet. He probably wouldn’t be keen to talk if he discovered she’d spied on his orgy. She’d have to leave before she materialized, then “run into” him later.
The blonde began screaming in ecstasy. Though Rune was pummeling her, and she was orgasming all over him, he smiled and calmly purred, “I’m coming.”
The woman gazed up at him in moaning awe.
He briefly froze. Then his hips pistoned. Thrust, thrust, thrust, THRUST, THRUST.
With a smirk, he stilled. He was done? He’d just come! Jo had risked staying for that? If she’d blinked, she might’ve missed it.
When her gaze dipped to his ass and her breaths shallowed even more, she made for the exit. Over her shoulder, she took one last glance at his pulse point.
Its beat had never sped up.
FIVE
Meadowberries mixed with warm rain.
Another female was nearby—and, gods almighty, her sweet scent was mouthwatering.
Rune had just finished securing his last informant and was already envisioning the search for his Valkyrie target. Yet when he detected the new female’s scent, he found himself stiffening once more inside the nymph.
