Fetching Analia Read online

  “Huh?” A little wrinkle appeared between Sabra’s eyebrows. “That’s not why I noticed him. Look harder and concentrate, think Star Tracker.”

  Ace rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re still following that blog.”

  “It’s better than the National Enquirer,” Sabra retorted.

  “Only barely,” Ace shot back.

  Analia dared another glance, though her gaze went to the bearded man, lingering on lips she imagined could deliver a kiss that’d curl her toes.

  For the second time she wrenched her attention away from him, this time forcing herself to focus on the blond she’d seen at the supernatural fair. Like Ace, the blond looked like he’d been created for the big screen. But where Ace was approachable, there was an untouchable beauty to the Supernatural Ops agent.

  Think Star Tracker. Think Star Tracker.

  It took Analia a few minutes, she wasn’t a gossip blog reader, though Sabra was always texting her links and pictures, and when they were together, sharing images on her phone. Ultimately the long blond hair helped.

  She finally said, “He hangs out in L.A. You’ve sent me pictures of him going to Hollywood events, most often with some up-and-coming starlet on his arm. Isn’t he some kind of prince?”

  “That’s the rumor.”

  Ace pursed his lips and studied the blond, then shook his head. “Sadly, I don’t think the Hollywood Honey plays both sides of the field.”

  Sabra patted Ace’s arm. “You’ll survive the disappointment.”

  As delightful as the maybe-prince was to look at, Analia’s attention drifted back to his companion. What were the odds that he was the blond’s friend, and not a Supernatural Ops agent?

  Where the Hollywood Honey had a kind of hazy glamour surrounding him, the man she couldn’t seem to keep from looking at made her think of a lone wolf. He radiated strength and security. Radiated the sense that the world hadn’t been offered up to him on a silver platter as it had for his companion.

  Their eyes met and held, and her heart rolled and tumbled. Her sex slickened and it was too easy to imagine the rough feel of his short beard against her inner thighs and the press of those sensuous lips against her lower lips.

  Part of her wanted to dash out to the car and stash the apple-shaped charm there, just in case… But then those lips quirked upward as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, and her face flamed with heat.

  Hound dog. He probably had women throwing themselves at him all the time.

  Like now.

  A pair of blonds stopped next to the men’s table, both of the women finding cause to lean over and provide a very up-close-and-personal view of their impressive cleavages.

  And the men’s gazes were drawn to those cleavages.

  “Hound dogs,” Analia muttered.

  Having followed her gaze, Ace snorted. “Cut them some slack, sweets. Eyes are a lot harder to control than hands.”

  She turned her attention back to her friends. “Not my type of guys anyway.”

  Sabra rolled her eyes. “They’re exactly your type of guys because they’re totally my type of guys. Seriously, for women who say they want to meet Mr. Right, we always go for Mr. Wrong.”

  Analia sighed. “Yeah, we do. Maybe it’s time for a change?” Why else had she seriously considered spending a grand on a charm that would supposedly attract a supernatural mate?

  Ace laughed. “Mr. Wrong can still be plenty of fun. Admit it.”

  Analia took a sip of her drink. “I admit nothing.”

  “I second that,” Sabra said.

  Remembering the gift in her purse, Analia said, “I bought something for you the other day when I was at the supernatural fair.”

  Sabra rubbed her hands together. “Give me. Give me. Give me.”

  Analia pulled the deck of tarot cards out of her purse and handed it to Sabra, who immediately opened the box and spread the cards face up. “Oh. I like. I like a lot.”

  They had a supernatural theme, of the fantasy variety, including dragons, faeries and sorcerers.

  Ace said, “Time for a reading.”

  “Reflection,” Sabra murmured.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Ace said. “You can write morning pages if you want to reflect. I’d much rather have answers about fame, fortune and fucking.”

  “Typical guy,” Sabra said.

  “You’re wounding me, sweets. Hitting me right where it hurts.”

  Analia shook her head. “As if that’s even possible. Who wants to go first?”

  “My cards. My first go,” Sabra said. “Is the man of my dreams at Stones now, or going to be here tonight?”

  She turned the cards face down on the table, moved them around, mixing them until her hand settled on one. She pulled it out and flipped it over.

  Ace offered a fist bump at seeing The Lovers. “Well, if he’s not here, you’re at least going to see some action tonight.”

  Sabra smiled and glanced over at the table with the maybe-prince and his companion, and Analia had to choke off a not him when her eyes settled on the man with the Hollywood Honey.

  “My turn,” Ace said, flipping The Lovers over and gathering the cards.

  He shuffled them, and kept shuffling as he formulated his question. Finally he said to Sabra, “Hell, why not? It worked for you, though man of my dreams covers a lot of territory. But here goes, Is the man—or woman—of my dreams here now, or going to show up tonight?”

  He shuffled some more, then cut the deck in the more traditional manner before flipping over a card.

  The Hermit. “Well, I think we can call that a no. Your turn Lia.”

  She took the cards—and couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at the man she already knew was going to star in a multitude of fantasies.

  A third, dark-haired man had joined the other two and she recognized him from the supernatural fair. He’d been with Taine and the Hollywood Honey.

  Suppressing a disappointed sigh, because what were the chances their companion wasn’t a Supernatural Ops agent, she turned her attention to the charm on her wrist. Light glinted off the apple-shaped crystal. No way could she risk having it come to the attention of the agents.

  What to ask? What to ask?

  Sabra folded her arms and directed a mock scowl at Analia. “Do not even think about holding out on us and going the silent route.”

  Analia laughed and shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m just trying to compose a question.”

  “What about composing one about the guy you keep sneaking glances at?” Ace said, heating Analia’s cheeks. So much for being subtle.

  “He’s not a mystery.” Though she was inordinately pleased that he hadn’t allowed one of the big-boobed blonds to lead him onto the dance floor so she could rub and grind against him.

  Ace snorted. “Guys rarely are. That’s what I like about them. They’re uncomplicated.”

  “Unless you want more than sex,” Sabra said. “Then they have a way of totally screwing with your head.”

  “There is that,” Ace conceded. “Still, I dare you to ask if he’s the one?”

  Sabra laughed and clapped. “I double dare you!”

  An involuntary shiver went through Analia. She drew a deep breath. “Okay, why not?”

  Why not get confirmation that she needed to stay away from him, despite how deeply attracted she was to him?

  Taking a breath and only barely preventing herself from glancing at the table with the Supernatural Ops agents, she asked, “Is he the one?”

  She mixed the cards and could have sworn a vibration went through the wrist she wore the charm bracelet on when she touched what felt like the right card.

  She flipped it over and saw the Ace of Cups.

  Sabra gave a little hoot. “Intimacy and love. He’s the one!”

  Mouth dry, Analia said, “I think I need clarification.”

  She fanned the cards out on the table, trailed her finger over them until she felt that same subtle vibrat
ion.

  Flipping the second card revealed the Six of Swords.

  Ace leaned forward to study both cards. “Sweet. Love and intimacy combined with a journey. I’m seeing a road trip and hot sex.”

  Analia dropped her hands into her lap and immediately rubbed the translucent green charm. Could the cards be right?

  How could they be if he was a Supernatural Ops agent?

  But…

  She shivered. The cards seemed to mirror the old man’s saying that possession of the charms would open the doors to a journey of discovery. That they would lead to a deeper understanding of the world—which could include the supernatural world—and to the mate meant for her.

  So maybe… She wet her lips and snuck a glance at the man sitting with the two who’d been at the supernatural fair.

  * * *

  Kellen was tired of ignoring his cock. From the moment his eyes had met the brunette’s, it’d demanded that he go to her. The strength of the demand had kept him in his seat, but now…

  Gaige left the table, drawn onto the dance floor by a blond.

  Crew left a second later, heading toward IRE’s human sorcerer, Kristof, who’d just become visible standing near the bar.

  Give in, Kellen’s cock urged.

  A dance. A fuck.

  His cock reminded him that tonight was like any other and gaining physical relief was part of the reason for coming to Stones. Why continue to deny himself?

  He set his beer bottle down and stood, a slight wariness tightening his chest at the sight of the tarot cards on the table in front of the brunette.

  The man she was with said something, sending her gaze in Kellen’s direction. Her eyes caught his and his thoughts went to Gaige twirling the lasso of woven magic to capture the unicorn. A warning perhaps?

  But there was no turning around. Desire drew him forward, and steps away from her, his nostrils filled with the same elusive, captivating scent he’d encountered at the supernatural fair.

  Here was its source and she was willing, very willing to satisfy the desire that’d been raging for days. If he hadn’t ignored the demands of his cock, he would have known it sooner, could already have had her beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist as he swallowed her cries of pleasure.

  Her female companion had caramel-toned skin and seemed familiar, but a quick inhalation and he knew he’d never encountered her before.

  The tightness in his chest eased when the friend scooped up the tarot cards and slipped them into a box.

  He reached the table and his reality narrowed. He wanted the brunette with an intensity he’d never before experienced.

  “Dance?” he asked, holding out his hand, anticipating the moment when they touched.

  Pleasure shot up his arm with the brush of her fingers to his. Heat coiled around his cock.

  He guided her out of her chair, wanted to guide her straight out of the club and into his bed.

  Later, he promised himself, knowing instantly that he wouldn’t make good on his words to his sire. There’d only be one female tonight. This female.

  She would occupy him for the rest of the night and into tomorrow. He’d take her home with him. He’d spend hours with his cock shoved into her channel.

  Tonight.

  Tomorrow.

  The next day.

  Possibly even the days that followed.

  They reached the dance floor and the timing was perfect. A slow song gave him an excuse to grip her hips and wallow in sensual heat.

  “I’m Kellen,” he said, lips brushing across her ear, inhaling deeply, her scent even more tormenting when combined with the feel of her against him.

  “I’m Analia.”

  The name wound itself around him like a captivating melody. It was beautiful, like her.

  She was feminine perfection. Perfectly curved—not too much, not too little, but just right.

  She fit against him as if made for him, a thought that sent a shiver of alarm through him though he countered it by telling himself that the sense of rightness was hound instinct, a base desire to mate and procreate he could easily overcome.

  The need to taste her had his mouth seeking out her neck. And with that first touch of lips to throat came the primitive, driving imperative to take her tender skin between his teeth and leave his mark.

  The fierceness of the urge tripled his heartbeat. It brought back the earlier conversation with Gaige, and the outrageous taunt that somehow Kellen had stumbled upon his mate.

  It should have driven him backward, away from Analia. But his hands refused to leave her waist and his mouth refused to lift from her neck.

  Fuck!

  Fuck! His cock agreed, the foreskin drawing back enough to heighten the sensation each time his pelvis made contact with hers as they danced.

  Fire surged through his shaft, pleasure intense enough to tighten his ass and have him fighting against dry humping.

  “I haven’t seen you here before,” he said.

  “I don’t come here very often.”

  Good.

  He didn’t like the thought of her falling prey to any number of the supernatural—or human—males who frequented Stones.

  She wore a bracelet, the magic emanating from some of the charms hinting that she might have an interest in the supernatural. Her presence at Stones indicating she might be amenable to a night of pleasure, with someone other than him.

  He stifled a growl and took her mouth more fiercely than he’d intended, his lips hard on hers, his tongue delivering a rough demand for entry rather than a sensuous request.

  Her moan might have been a meal. It satisfied him in a way that a feast—in human or hound form—wouldn’t.

  He swallowed the sound of her pleasure and desire, and needed more of her. His hands stroked upward along her sides, drawing her closer, and even that wasn’t close enough.

  Her nipples pressed against his chest like hard, ripened berries and he wanted to strip blouse and bra from her body so he could look and nuzzle and taste.

  She moaned again, cupped the back of his neck and head. She readily met the thrust of his tongue with the thrust of hers, her alluring scent heavily laced with arousal.

  He wanted to plunge his hand into her panties. Wanted to confirm what he knew, that she was wet for him. Ready for him.

  The hound part of his nature easily pictured her on her knees, her chest touched to the floor and her legs splayed, her pussy slick and swollen.

  His tongue plunged deeper into her mouth, mimicked what his cock was desperate to do, surround itself in wet heat and willing surrender.

  Mine! It claimed.

  Mine! Mine! Mine!

  And in that instant he didn’t care. Couldn’t be bothered to protest.

  So what if his body claimed she was a potential mate? Giving in to the pleasure didn’t have to be a trap.

  He could take her and walk away from her. No female would ever ensnare his heart again and make him want to become half of a mated pair.

  His trust would never extend that far again, not after Cosette’s betrayal. But that didn’t mean he had to deny himself the pleasure of being with Analia.

  Hadn’t he promised himself that if he ever encountered the female he’d scented at the supernatural fair, he’d fuck her until that lush scent no longer had the power to send blood rushing to his cock?

  His mouth lifted from hers, but only because he wanted to meet her eyes and see her face. “You outshine every woman here,” he said, and it was nothing less than the truth.

  A blush highlighted her cheekbones, and the sight of it created a foreign swell in his chest—something that might be tenderness, even protectiveness.

  Her gaze searched his as if looking for something, and he evaded the search with the rub of his cheek against hers, with deep inhalations of her lush, intoxicating scent.

  Every breath intensified the heat coursing through him, every breath sent that heat pounding into his cock. “I need more,” he said, the words wrenched from h
im before he took her mouth again, desire deepening with each stroke of tongue against tongue.

  The rub of her mound against the hard ridge of his erection was sensuous torture, a torment he wouldn’t be able to endure very long in public. A single inhalation was all it’d taken for his cock to ready itself for her, and he wasn’t alone in desire.

  The scent of her arousal was a lure he had no intention of resisting. Imagining his cock bathed in that sultry heat was enough to send a shudder of fiery want up his spine.

  Foreplay wouldn’t be possible. Not the first time.

  Maybe not even the second or third.

  He’d consider it a major accomplishment if he managed to last long enough to stretch her out beneath him on a bed.

  Unwanted interruption came in the form of Gaige, sidling next to them, a different woman in his arms. The fey prince uttered a magical word so only Kellen could hear him say, “She might be willing, but she’s a complication you don’t need. I saw her at the supernatural fair with Saffron. They’re close friends.”

  Heat was countered but not obliterated by the cold wash of reality.

  Warning delivered, Gaige moved away, not needing to say more as far as Kellen was concerned.

  Analia was off limits.

  He wouldn’t risk destroying the easy comradery, the sense of brotherhood, of family—family as he’d never experienced it in the hound’s realm—that he’d found at IRE.

  Like all dragons, Taine’s loyalty was to his mate, Saffron. Hurt a friend of Saffron’s and it would have repercussions.

  Even so, Kellen didn’t immediately end the kiss, didn’t immediately set Analia aside. He savored the rub of her body against his, the rub of her tongue against his. Savored the soft little sounds she made as they kissed, and the feel of her hands in his hair and on his neck. Savored this first and last dance.

  The music changed from slow to fast.

  He took a last taste. A last inhalation of her scent, then forced his arms away from her, telling himself he was grateful for Gaige’s warning.

  “Thanks for the dance,” he said, turning away from Analia and heading back to the table he shared with the other agents, afraid if he continued looking at her, he’d give in to the urgings of his cock and take her, despite what it would ultimately cost him.