Viva Los Regalos: Kat and Mouse Page 5

  “Not really. I’d just rather not spend too much time with you.”

  Abaddon laughed again and The Mouse felt a sudden wave of irritated heat roll through him. “Fearless too. Even better.”

  The Mouse clenched his jaw. “All the better for what?”

  Abaddon shifted beside him, and from the corner of his eye The Mouse noticed he tracked Katrina O’Brien’s movements through the crowded casino floor. “There is a stone I wish you to procure. Currently kept in The Wicked Lynx’s vault.”

  The Mouse felt his chest grow tight. “No.”

  Abaddon continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “It is a large diamond. About the size of my fist. Within its heart is an iridescent pale blue glow.”

  “No.”

  “It is quite valuable. Especially to me. Once I have the Daemon Moon the three million is yours.”

  “No.”

  Abaddon turned to him, blue eyes glowing with an unnatural intensity. “But you haven’t heard the sweetener.”

  The Mouse kept his stare on Katrina O’Brien, knowing any moment she would be swallowed by the early morning gamblers. “The sweetener? What, my life? If I don’t steal this Daemon Moon for you, you’ll turn me to toast?” He flicked Abaddon a quick look, not remotely trying to hide his disdain. “C’mon, even for someone as Hollywood B-Movie as you, that’s a little clichéd, don’t you think?”

  A bright flare of anger flashed across Abaddon’s face and The Mouse felt his skin grow hot, as though he’d stepped too close to an open fire. “I forgot about the Australian sense of humor -- dry, caustic. And your lack of respect for those in power.” His handsome face seemed to shimmer and for a split second, the chiseled features blurred into a mask of hideously bestial structure. “Your life is not the sweetener, my friend. The very delectable Ms. O’Brien’s life, on the other hand…”

  The Mouse gave Abaddon a flat stare, his blood growing cold. “Why should I care about the life of a cop? Especially one who’s caused me no end of trouble?”

  Abaddon’s mouth stretched into a broad grin, pointed fangs flashing between parted lips. “You tell me… Flynn Marsters.”

  Flynn clenched his jaw. “You seem to have all the answers, Abaddon. So let’s hear some of them.”

  Abaddon gave him a smug grin. “Such as?”

  “How do you know who I am?”

  The fangs flashed again. “I have not spent the last century in the Ninth Level of Hell without learning a thing or two about those with sin in their souls. And your soul is very, very sinful, Mr. Marsters.”

  Flynn ground his molars together. “You’re behind the times, Abaddon. I’m retiring.”

  “But not before you retrieve what I want.”

  “What’s so special about it?”

  Abaddon’s grin faded and Flynn’s skin prickled with heat again. “It contains something very important to me. Something taken unfairly.”

  “Contains? In a diamond? What?”

  “She is quite remarkable, Ms. O’Brien,” Abaddon casually stated, nodding at Katrina’s back as -- finally -- she disappeared in the crowd. “A Kat worthy of attention.”

  Every muscle in Flynn’s body coiled. “Stay away from her, Abaddon. You may not be human, but it won’t stop me bringing down a whole world of hurt on you if you don’t.”

  “When the Daemon Moon is in my possession I will have no further need for the good officer.” Blue eyes flared with a dark fire. “I must admit though, I am almost conflicted. She is, as I said, quite addictive.”

  Something close to fear squeezed Flynn’s heart. “And how would you know?”

  “Her lips are like honeyed velvet, are they not?” Abaddon chuckled, fixing Flynn with a knowing look. “And her desires run dark and deep. Just the way I like them. It is rare to find a woman of such inner strength who longs to be dominated so.”

  Flynn’s nails cut into his palms as he curled his fists. “Touch her again and --”

  “Get me the Daemon Moon and I guarantee you, my hands shall never touch her again.”

  Blood roaring in his ears, Flynn stared at the man beside him. “What is the Daemon Moon? Why do you want it so badly?”

  Abaddon’s grin returned, dark and demonic. “Most of the… staff… in Los Regalos are here by choice. I, on the other hand, lost a bet. The Daemon Moon will rectify that loss. And return to me what is mine.”

  Flynn narrowed his eyes, his gut a knot of suspicion. “Lost a bet? To whom?”

  “Let’s just call him Da Boss. He has something of mine and I want it back. You can get it for me.”

  “Why me?” Flynn asked, his gut knotting more. “Surely in this place you can find someone capable of walking through walls?”

  Abaddon’s lips twisted. “True. But a human will not trip the unique… security surrounding the Moon. Someone of my… how shall I put this?… origins will. I need the skill of the world famous Mouse.”

  “I’m not getting anything unless I know what it is. Why do you want the Daemon Moon so desperately?”

  “It is beyond your human comprehension.”

  Flynn gave the man an indifferent shrug. “Well, it’s beyond my human skill to obtain it then.”

  Pure rage -- Abaddon’s rage -- hit him. A wave of solid heat. A wall of molten fury. The very air in his lungs felt like sulfur, his bones on fire.

  The air around the man seemed to shimmer. His flesh, his muscles, his form shifted -- a man yet not a man. As if two beings existed in the same space, one human, one a creature of demonic proportions. “The stone contains me, human.” The words were low, a growling rumble making Flynn’s eardrums feel like they were being crushed. “When I have possession of the stone, I will be free. Of contract. Of control. When I have the stone, I will walk this realm and no one will tell me what to do. No one.”

  Flynn’s breath suddenly turned to ice, the blistering heat only seconds earlier filling his lungs sucked from his body. And then it was just Abaddon standing before him again, agitated and menacing, but human nonetheless. “Do you comprehend now, Marsters?”

  Flynn cocked an eyebrow, forcing his face to remain impassive. Almost bored. “Impressive.” He paused. “If a touch showy.”

  Abaddon’s nostrils flared. “Showy? Hmm. Let me put it this way. I have marked Katrina O’Brien as my own. Which means one of two things: you can return to that dried-up speck of insignificant land you call Australia with her, or without her. But I should point out before you make up your mind… the ‘show’ you just witnessed? It is my true form, and the form I would use to fuck the delectable police officer every time and any time I wanted to, if you choose not to procure the Daemon Moon.” A wide, cold grin stretched his mouth and he stared at Flynn with smug intensity. “You decide.”

  * * *

  Katrina killed the shower and stepped, dripping, from the cubicle, grabbing a thick, fluffy towel and shaking the excess water from her hair.

  The tension that had roared into life in her stomach at the blackjack table fifteen minutes ago coiled tighter -- low in the pit of her gut, the place she associated with her cop instincts. A cliché, she knew, but undeniable all the same. She’d survived more than one raid, more than one dangerous situation listening to it. Right now, however, the infallible tension she’d come to rely on since she first holstered her Glock was telling her jack-shit.

  Yes, it was coiled tighter than ever. Yes, it was making every nerve in her being tingle.

  But that was it. And she honestly didn’t know if it had anything to do with her official purpose for being in Los Regalos or the deep, dark desires she’d spent years repressing now threatening to control her actions.

  Are you going to Room 42, O’Brien?

  Wrapping herself in the towel, she moved into the bedroom. Yes, she was. But as a cop, not a sex-starved maniac. Which, unfortunately, is what she felt like at the moment.

  At the moment? Well, since touching down in Los Regalos.

  She crossed the room, forcing her gaze to stay away from the l
atex costume on the bed. She’d go to the mysteriously familiar man’s suite ready to do her job: jeans, a no-nonsense T-shirt, sneakers and her cuffs. Clothes she could easily take him down --

  A sharp knock on her door brought her to a standstill. She stared at it across the space, her heartbeat tripling. Who was on the other side?

  Could be anyone in this place!

  A sudden burst of irritation erupted in her chest. “Bloody hell, O’Brien. Just answer the bloody door, will you! You’re acting like a rookie!”

  Tugging the edge of her towel tight (any tighter and she’d have trouble breathing!) she strode to the door, scooping up her cuffs as she did so. Just in case. “Yes?” she almost snapped, swinging the door wide.

  “I am impatient,” the man from the blackjack table said, exotic accent turning the words to a caress. Piercing black eyes held her frozen. “And seeing how you answer the door, I am glad for the failing.” Without another word, he stepped through the door and swung it closed behind him. He stared down at her, his heat grazing her damp skin.

  God, I’ve done this before! The thought flashed through Katrina’s mind, seconds before a powerful wave of déjà vu claimed her. She had done this before. With this very man. She was sure of it. But how? Tilting her head slightly, she stared up at him, refusing to move despite his disturbing invasion of her personal space. “How do I know you?”

  A slight grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “If I recall correctly, I won the bet, yes?”

  Katrina shoved her hands on her hips, the cuffs clinking as they struck her body. “Do you really think I’m going to let you do whatever you want to me?”

  The black eyes seemed to ignite with a smoldering flame. “Yes. I do.”

  He moved. Fast. Damn fast. His hands closed around her wrists and he shoved her against the wall.

  “Hey!” The word burst from her lips with her breath. Her ass smashed against the wall the second his hips smashed into hers, his long, thick shaft grinding the soft curve of her mons with arrogant force. He yanked her arms above her head and pinned her wrists to the wall in an inescapable grip, her cuffs rapping against her knuckles.

  Cream flooded her cunt. Hot eager cream. As hot as the shame burning her cheeks. Stop him! She lashed out, thrusting her knee upward. Aiming for --

  He moved again. Faster. Snaring both her wrists in one fist and hooking his now free hand under her rising leg. With a brutal tug, he yanked her leg higher, redirecting its violent swing until her inner thigh wrapped around his hip and his groin -- hot, rigid and demanding -- pressed directly on her spread sex.

  Oh, God… Katrina bucked. “Get off me!”

  He jerked her leg higher, his fingers digging into the underside of her knee as he rolled his hips once. Twice. “No.”

  Liquid hunger consumed her. She stared into his face, breath after ragged breath making her chest rise and fall in rapid motion. Her nipples, still covered by thick toweling, puckered into rock-hard nubs, pushing against his chest, the friction making her pussy constrict again.

  Another wave of déjà vu rolled over her and she groaned. Oh, dear Jesus.

  “You are wet, ma cherie,” he murmured. He pushed his hips forward slightly, the solid length of his cock, barely contained by tailored black trousers, branding her sex. “But I will make you wetter.”

  He smoothed his hand from the back of her knee higher up her thigh until he cupped her ass cheek, his fingers feathering the swollen lips of her cunt. A whimper slipped from Katrina’s throat, soft and telling. He knew what he was doing. He knew exactly what she wanted.

  How?

  Does it matter?

  Yes. It did. Fighting the dark desire deep within her being, she fixed him with an unwavering stare. “Who are you?”

  Black eyes glinted and he pressed his hips harder to her. “Curiosity killed the cat, Ms. O’Brien.”

  “Yes, but satisfaction brought it back.”

  “Oh, I guarantee you will be satisfied.”

  Katrina glared at him, her body awash in an excitement she couldn’t deny. “I’m mistaken about knowing you. I’d remember someone so completely full of himself.”

  The man stared at her, his body pressing her to the wall, his cock aligned perfectly with her sex. His hold on her wrist grew almost painful. “You’d think so.”

  The words were soft, almost a whisper. And with them came an expression on his face Katrina had seen before. An expression of self-loathing and sadness. An expression worn by a man she’d not seen since… She frowned, her heart in her throat. “Flynn?”

  The man’s nostrils flared. “You are thinking of another man while in my arms?” His fingers ground into her wrists and he jerked her arms straighter, grinding his cock against her pussy. Punishing her. “Who is this Flynn?”

  Katrina writhed beneath him, feeling the fingers of his hand on her ass sink closer to her sex. God, she wanted those fingers buried in her. “None of your fucking business,” she snarled instead.

  “Everything about you is my business, Australian Federal Police Officer Katrina O’Brien.”

  Her breath caught. “How --”

  He didn’t let her finish. With savage speed, he took a step backward and ripped the towel from her body. “Beautiful.”

  He came at her hard. Crushing her to the wall, one hand closing over her breast with brutal possession, the other grabbing the back of her thigh and jerking her leg up. His mouth claimed hers and his shaft rammed against her cunt, hard and unforgiving. Her clit throbbed at the contact and she sucked in a breath through her nostrils, arching into him even as she wanted to pull away. She had no answers. How could she submit to this… this invasion without answers?

  She couldn’t.

  With strength born of desperation, she planted her palms on his shoulders and shoved. Her palms burned from the heat of his body. Her pussy constricted at their solid, sculpted strength. He stumbled backward. A step. Enough for Katrina to realize she’d made a mistake.

  Eyes the color of sin stared at her. Blacker than a new moon midnight. Hunger and strength burned in their inky depths. Hunger for her. To dominate her. Possess her. Her cunt gushed with her own hunger and her nipples tightened to painful points of concentrated desire.

  His lips curled in a slight smile. “A lioness after all.”

  Katrina glared at him, clenching her fists, the steely ice of her cuffs biting into her left palm. “Touch me again --”

  “And you’ll come?” The grin grew wider. More conceited. “I know. But not until I say so.”

  The arrogant comment turned her blood to fire. She stared at him, her heated flesh exposed to his lazy inspection. Back flattened to the wall, she had nowhere to go.

  But to him? Conflict tore at her. She wanted to go to him, wanted to feel him take possession of her. But why?

  He took the decision away from her. In one abrupt step.

  His hands found her body, fingers curling into her hips as he jerked her to him, crushing her mouth with his. His tongue invaded her mouth, plunging past her lips. He grabbed her ass, spun about and shoved her backward, driving her across the suite without breaking the assault on her mouth. She stumbled and for a split second she thought she was going to land on her ass. But before gravity could claim her, he did.

  His grip on her butt cheeks moved and, in three powerful strides, he’d yanked her from the floor, his straining erection smashing her spread cunt as she gripped his hips with her thighs.

  The room blurred around her and, before she knew what he’d done, before she could react, he’d thrown her on the bed, crushing her to the mattress with a speed both frightening and thrilling, grabbing her hands and yanking her arms above her head. She bucked beneath him, trying to dislodge his weight, but each wild thrash only furthered the contact of their bodies.

  Oh, God. What am I doing?

  She writhed on the mattress, the pressing heat of his cock between her legs fueling the denied want in her being. She had to get him off. Now. Before she submi
tted to -- A soft click shattered the air. A soft metal click she knew almost as well as her own voice. Her cuffs.

  “I have you, minette sexy.”

  She twisted her head, staring up at her wrists. Both were encircled with steel on either side of the bedhead’s corner post. He’d cuffed her. To the bed. “You bastard!”

  He stared down at her. “It is not the first time I have been called such, cherie.” He dragged his hands down the length of her extended arms and took possession of her breasts. “Especially by you.”

  Katrina froze. She looked up into his face, this man she knew but didn’t know. Black eyes looked back at her, unreadable, closed to her but burning with an emotion she almost recognized. “Tell me,” she whispered. Tell me how I know you…

  “I won the bet, ma cherie.” His fingers found her nipples, circling each areola with teasing strokes, as if charting the tiny lumps and bumps of her desire. “There are no answers for you here.” And slowly, slowly, his breath feathering her flesh like warm mist, he lowered his head and took her left nipple in his mouth.

  “Oh, God!” Katrina arched beneath him, wanting to be devoured. His teeth and tongue worked the puckered tip in his mouth, drew on it deeply. She cried out again, the wicked sensations his suckling awoke in her both appalling and intoxicating. She planted her feet on either side of his thighs and shoved her hips up, wanting him to feel the sodden world of her sex.

  A growl sounded in his throat at the action, and the suckling on her breast became brutal, his hands raking up and down her rib cage in torrid caresses, making her flesh sting and her pulse pound. As if frantic, as though one second deprived of skin-to-skin contact would end his life, he dragged his mouth from her nipple and claimed the other, squeezing and mauling her breasts with increasing frenzy as he did so. His cock ground against her sex, growing harder with each second.

  Katrina’s rapture-fogged brain marveled at its contained size. It felt huge! Even trapped by the material of his trousers. What would it be like released? Free? To bury into her center, owning her, possessing her in a way so deep and elemental she wouldn’t be able to breathe?