Page 72 of Feral Possession

“Nothing with you is ever feigned, is it?” He stroked her bottom lip with his thumb. “Everything you’re feeling is written on your face. You truly want this.”

Um, yeah, you big dummy. She curled her calf over his hip and rolled her pelvis against his hardened shaft. His eyes went heavy at the contact, and the corner of her mouth quirked. “What gave me away?”

She circled his waist, untucking the tail of his button-down shirt. “May I?” She teased her fingertips beneath the fabric. Indecision and longing battled in his expression. At last, he nodded. Before he could change his mind, Dove coasted her palm up his flanks.

At the contact, breath wheezed from his lungs. He shuddered, his shoulders rounding as he melted beneath her hands. She stroked his flesh, both the smooth, unblemished side along with the rough. “Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable,” she whispered, afraid to break the spell.

“Hmm?” he muttered as though incapable of speech. Then his muscles tightened. Tension grew within him like a gathering storm.

Fine hairs prickled her neck. “Marcus?” She stilled, dipping her head to better see his expression. When his eyes lifted, the heat in them stole her breath. He cupped her nape, fingers sinking into her hair. Against her mouth, he snarled in an otherworldly voice, “My queen. I am yours.” Hold up, was that Shadow’s influence she heard? Did she care? Nope.

Her hands continued their exploration and he kissed her, setting in with fervor. As though he hadn’t kissed a woman in a thousand years. This time, his manner was rougher, wild, less practiced, less contained. Fates save her, she’d broken him, cracked that thick wall of self-control.

Whirling shadows buffeted her limbs. Energy crackled between them. Her glyph tingled, sparking static down her spine. She sensed darkness rising inside of him, a source of untapped power. It called to her own, energizing her senses.

His roughened palm coasted up her thigh, beneath her skirt. Teasing fingers grazed the very heart of her. She whimpered, aching for his touch.

“More.” She exhaled against his lips, rocking her hips.

“More of this?” he taunted, cupping her sex in his heated palm.

“Yes, lots more,” she groaned, thrusting into his hand. Over the scrap of lace, he stroked her clit. Back and forth went his delightful thumb. Her walls clenched. Oh, how he made her burn. It only seemed fair that she return the favor.

Hands shaking, she unfastened his pants. His unyielding manhood pulsed as though eager for her touch. She stroked his impressive erection, grasping him with a possessive grip. Marcus cursed at the ceiling. Energy swelled. Shadows wrapped them in a tornado, then shot skyward.

Glass cracked over their heads.

“Dove!” Marcus snapped his arms around her, caging her against his chest. Shards from the fractured roof fell down on them. Time froze. Her hearing felt muffled, as though she was underwater. With her face smooshed against Marcus’s neck, it took a moment for her lust-filled brain to shift gears. She peeked over his shoulder. Around them was a smokey dome.

“Whoa,” she gasped. “Marcus, look.”

His hardened body tensed. Sharp breaths heaved from his chest. “Marcus, look what you did.” She patted his shoulder, squirming in his grasp. “That was amazing. You used the shadows to form a barrier.”

She looked up at him, only to find his eyes locked on a dagger of glass that was stabbed into the table beside them. Oh boy, she could already see where he was headed with this. His jaw clenched, his gaze hardening.

“Now, Marcus. I know what you’re thinking and don’t. Accidents are bound to happen while we’re figuring things out. When I was a student, stuff like this used to happen to me all the time. One time, I tried to resurrect the Headmaster’s cat and—”

Bells chimed. Marcus stepped away from her. The dome faded by degrees until poof, it was gone. Sure, Marcus was rattled, but that was still one heck of a trick. They were totally practicing that tomorrow. Maybe while she threw darts at him. Yes. That would be fun.

Again, bells chimed. Marcus reached into the pocket of his—unfastened pants and extracted his phone.

He glared at the screen before answering, “Steele.” Dove watched the play of emotion on his face before that dammed mask of his slid into place. “That’s good news. Hold on. She’s right here.”

Warmth drained from Dove’s limbs. She pointed to her chest. “Me?” His controlled expression gave nothing away. He pressed the phone to her hand, then turned, fastening his pants. She held the speaker to her ear. “Hello?”

“Dove, mon coeur.”

“Vivian?”

Dove glance up just in time to see Marcus exit through the greenhouse door. Was he leaving her? She turned her attention back to the phone he’d pressed into her hand.

“Ma chérie, it’s so good to hear your voice,” Vivian said.

“Yours too. How are you? Is everything okay?” Dove hopped off the wooden bench, careful to pick her way around the broken glass.

“Bien sûr. Everything is fine. I’m calling with fabulous news. It’s a long story, but my ex, Alistair, is no more. The threat from Zion has been handled, and I’ve returned home. Gilbert has been hard at work, repairing the fire damage, and the house is inhabitable again.”

“Holy cow. That’s amazing.” Dove stepped out the door of the greenhouse. Her heart sank. Marcus was nowhere in sight.

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