Nightwalker
Page 52
“Aw, man!” Kamen heard him cry. When she had joined the game Leo had outlined the rules. If Viève touched the player he was out of the game until the next round.
Before long she was caught up in the nature of the game. Yes, they were practicing battle techniques, but they were having fun while doing it. Before long she was laughing and joking with the rest of them.
They had accepted her.
Good. He had been worried about that. Worried that her association with him would taint her. Still, it hadn’t kept his hands off her, he thought grimly. He’d been too selfish. He’d wanted her too much.
He was touched by the way she leapt to defend him, but he could have told her it was a losing battle. He didn’t deserve forgiveness, couldn’t she see that? This business with the Wraiths and Templars was different. That was about forgiving a people as a whole; not about forgiving specific crimes of an individual.
Right?
He frowned to himself. Wait. That didn’t make sense. A people as a whole was made up of individuals. Each of those individuals had committed heinous acts against others and yet, if they were going to be given forgiveness as a whole…then that meant his crimes should also fall under the title of forgiveness.
But did the Templars and the Wraiths truly deserve that forgiveness? Did they deserve it any more or less than he did?
He could think himself in circles about this. In the end it came down to what he personally felt he deserved. And he did not think he deserved the forgiveness of people like Leo, whom he had wronged so egregiously.
He watched her play for a little while longer, then he went back into the house. He didn’t know when the Empress was going to make an appearance, but he wanted to be ready for her when she did. He might only have all twelve races together in the same room for a short time. Since he could not find anything about reversing the curse, his only recourse was to make something up on his own. He would draw in components from other similar spells and create a new spell, honing the magic to a specific task. He might just be powerful enough to do it. If the second most powerful magic-using being on earth couldn’t bring this to fruition, then no one could. No one on their side anyway. Perhaps Odjit could have, but she was clearly not going to be casting any spells any time soon. Certainly not to their benefit.
He found his journal and began leafing through the pages. He looked up some time later when Viève sat at his feet with a flounce and rested her chin on his knee as she panted softly for breath.
“I’m pooped!” she declared.
“You’ve only been out there a few minutes.”
“I’ve been out there for over an hour!” She pointed to the clock and he was surprised to see how much time had passed while he was studying his journal. “What are you doing?” she asked him.
“Looking for answers,” he said with an exhalation of breath. “I’m constructing a spell I hope will lift the veil between the First and Second Factions of Nightwalkers.”
“Well, I won’t bother you then,” she said, moving to get up and leave him. But he caught her shoulder in his hand and with a gentle press kept her at his feet. “Don’t go,” he said quietly.
She gave him a half a smile. “But you’ll study much better without me to distract you.”
“That may be true, but the studying will be far less enjoyable.”
“So what am I to do? Sit at your feet and watch you?” she asked, indicating her position on the floor with a sweep of her hand.
“No,” he said with a twitch of his lips. “The idea of you on the floor at my feet will definitely not be conducive to me concentrating.”
Her smile turned sly as she got up on her knees and moved around his feet until she was kneeling between his legs, her hands running up the length of his thighs. Her hands felt hot through the material of his jeans. All of the concentration of the past hour flew right out the window. Thoughts turned numb as sensation took over. She leaned forward, her breasts a warm weight against the fly of his jeans. Her touch drifted up the ridges of his abdomen until her flat palms were running over his chest.
“Are you concentrating now?” she asked.
“Yes. On the wrong thing, however,” he said. He reached out and traced a thumb across a cheek that was ruddy with her outdoor play in the cool night air.
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked coyly. Her hands reversed direction and drew down his chest, rode over the hard bumps of his belly muscles and she reared back to make way for her hands to rub right down the length of his fly. He sucked a breath in through his teeth. She found him hard beneath her touch and she rubbed at him some more.
“There is no time for this,” he murmured tightly.
“Yes. You are right,” she said contritely, once more rising to get up. Again he stopped her from doing so with a firm hand on her shoulder.
“We will make time,” he said.
She smiled and leaned forward, pressing her breasts against him as he leaned forward for a kiss of great depth and greater heat. All the while her hands worked between them to unfasten his jeans, pulling the zipper down. With a few tugs she pulled his jeans down past his hips. Then she dipped her hand into his underwear and wrapped her fingers around his hardening shaft. She licked her soft pink lips and his whole body tightened with need and want. His hands had gone to her shoulders, and now his fingers tightened around her flesh. She pulled him free of his boxers and stroked him from root to tip.
“Are you concentrating still?” she asked him, doing that provocative licking of her lips again.
“Very much so,” he said raspily.
“Good. Now try and stay focused,” she said, the light of mischief in her eyes.
“I shall do my level best,” he said.
She laughed at him and he smiled as she dipped her head down and blew a soft, sustained breath across his heated flesh. Then she took a deep breath in.
“I love the way you smell. Like bergamot and man and sex all wrapped up into one.” She leaned forward and touched her tongue to the tip of his cock, giving him an experimental lick. Then she regarded him with serious eyes. “You’ll tell me if I’m doing this wrong?” she asked him.
“You’re already doing it right,” he said huskily.
She smiled at that. Then she dipped her head again and this time she danced her tongue all around his glans. She picked him up into her hand and stroked him as she closed her mouth fully around him. He sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth and she hesitated, looking up at him with question in her eyes. He shook his head. Content, she swirled her tongue around him again and sucked him deep into her mouth.
Before long she was caught up in the nature of the game. Yes, they were practicing battle techniques, but they were having fun while doing it. Before long she was laughing and joking with the rest of them.
They had accepted her.
Good. He had been worried about that. Worried that her association with him would taint her. Still, it hadn’t kept his hands off her, he thought grimly. He’d been too selfish. He’d wanted her too much.
He was touched by the way she leapt to defend him, but he could have told her it was a losing battle. He didn’t deserve forgiveness, couldn’t she see that? This business with the Wraiths and Templars was different. That was about forgiving a people as a whole; not about forgiving specific crimes of an individual.
Right?
He frowned to himself. Wait. That didn’t make sense. A people as a whole was made up of individuals. Each of those individuals had committed heinous acts against others and yet, if they were going to be given forgiveness as a whole…then that meant his crimes should also fall under the title of forgiveness.
But did the Templars and the Wraiths truly deserve that forgiveness? Did they deserve it any more or less than he did?
He could think himself in circles about this. In the end it came down to what he personally felt he deserved. And he did not think he deserved the forgiveness of people like Leo, whom he had wronged so egregiously.
He watched her play for a little while longer, then he went back into the house. He didn’t know when the Empress was going to make an appearance, but he wanted to be ready for her when she did. He might only have all twelve races together in the same room for a short time. Since he could not find anything about reversing the curse, his only recourse was to make something up on his own. He would draw in components from other similar spells and create a new spell, honing the magic to a specific task. He might just be powerful enough to do it. If the second most powerful magic-using being on earth couldn’t bring this to fruition, then no one could. No one on their side anyway. Perhaps Odjit could have, but she was clearly not going to be casting any spells any time soon. Certainly not to their benefit.
He found his journal and began leafing through the pages. He looked up some time later when Viève sat at his feet with a flounce and rested her chin on his knee as she panted softly for breath.
“I’m pooped!” she declared.
“You’ve only been out there a few minutes.”
“I’ve been out there for over an hour!” She pointed to the clock and he was surprised to see how much time had passed while he was studying his journal. “What are you doing?” she asked him.
“Looking for answers,” he said with an exhalation of breath. “I’m constructing a spell I hope will lift the veil between the First and Second Factions of Nightwalkers.”
“Well, I won’t bother you then,” she said, moving to get up and leave him. But he caught her shoulder in his hand and with a gentle press kept her at his feet. “Don’t go,” he said quietly.
She gave him a half a smile. “But you’ll study much better without me to distract you.”
“That may be true, but the studying will be far less enjoyable.”
“So what am I to do? Sit at your feet and watch you?” she asked, indicating her position on the floor with a sweep of her hand.
“No,” he said with a twitch of his lips. “The idea of you on the floor at my feet will definitely not be conducive to me concentrating.”
Her smile turned sly as she got up on her knees and moved around his feet until she was kneeling between his legs, her hands running up the length of his thighs. Her hands felt hot through the material of his jeans. All of the concentration of the past hour flew right out the window. Thoughts turned numb as sensation took over. She leaned forward, her breasts a warm weight against the fly of his jeans. Her touch drifted up the ridges of his abdomen until her flat palms were running over his chest.
“Are you concentrating now?” she asked.
“Yes. On the wrong thing, however,” he said. He reached out and traced a thumb across a cheek that was ruddy with her outdoor play in the cool night air.
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked coyly. Her hands reversed direction and drew down his chest, rode over the hard bumps of his belly muscles and she reared back to make way for her hands to rub right down the length of his fly. He sucked a breath in through his teeth. She found him hard beneath her touch and she rubbed at him some more.
“There is no time for this,” he murmured tightly.
“Yes. You are right,” she said contritely, once more rising to get up. Again he stopped her from doing so with a firm hand on her shoulder.
“We will make time,” he said.
She smiled and leaned forward, pressing her breasts against him as he leaned forward for a kiss of great depth and greater heat. All the while her hands worked between them to unfasten his jeans, pulling the zipper down. With a few tugs she pulled his jeans down past his hips. Then she dipped her hand into his underwear and wrapped her fingers around his hardening shaft. She licked her soft pink lips and his whole body tightened with need and want. His hands had gone to her shoulders, and now his fingers tightened around her flesh. She pulled him free of his boxers and stroked him from root to tip.
“Are you concentrating still?” she asked him, doing that provocative licking of her lips again.
“Very much so,” he said raspily.
“Good. Now try and stay focused,” she said, the light of mischief in her eyes.
“I shall do my level best,” he said.
She laughed at him and he smiled as she dipped her head down and blew a soft, sustained breath across his heated flesh. Then she took a deep breath in.
“I love the way you smell. Like bergamot and man and sex all wrapped up into one.” She leaned forward and touched her tongue to the tip of his cock, giving him an experimental lick. Then she regarded him with serious eyes. “You’ll tell me if I’m doing this wrong?” she asked him.
“You’re already doing it right,” he said huskily.
She smiled at that. Then she dipped her head again and this time she danced her tongue all around his glans. She picked him up into her hand and stroked him as she closed her mouth fully around him. He sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth and she hesitated, looking up at him with question in her eyes. He shook his head. Content, she swirled her tongue around him again and sucked him deep into her mouth.
