Page 98 of Into Darkness (Night Prowler 6)
He gave a barely imperceptible shake of his head. “Nothing could ever be wrong with you looking at me like that, angel,” he whispered.
She didn’t believe him. Something was suddenly, definitely wrong. She sat up, grabbing his wrist. “Don’t lie to me! What’re you thinking?”
He hesitated. Then, in a voice low and infinitely dark, he said, “I just feel like the luckiest man alive. And I want this to last forever.” He knelt down beside the bed and took her face in his hands. His eyes were so tortured it frightened her. “I want that more than anything else in the world. To be with you forever.”
“You’re scaring me,” she whispered back.
“Don’t be scared, angel. Everything’s going to be okay; I know it.” He pressed the gentlest of kisses to her lips, her cheeks, her chin, trying to calm her, but she’d begun to tremble.
“Magnus—”
“Shh,” he shushed her gently, kissing her again. He pressed her back against the bed, his kisses growing deeper, longer, his hands roving over her body. As always when he touched her, it was a sweet and wonderful homecoming, the best feeling in the world. It was so blissful, in fact, she heard music . . .
Magnus stilled. She opened her eyes and looked at him, hovering above her, his face flushed. “Is that music?” he said in a whisper, ear cocked toward the door.
“It is.” And not any music. Loud music, a throbbing, pulsating beat that vibrated the floor.
They both sat up. “Where’s it coming from, d’you think?” she asked.
“Downstairs? Somewhere . . . below.”
Below. They looked at each other, arrested by the word.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked, and watched a sexy, slow grin spread across his face.
His voice dropped an octave. “Only if what you’re thinking involves my face between your legs.”
“Magnus!” Lu smacked him on the arm, scandalized, blushing. She couldn’t believe he’d just said that out loud.
“God, you’re adorable when you blush.” He grabbed her, kissed her again. This time it was she who broke the kiss, when the throbbing beat of the music became too loud and distracting.
“Okay, I’ve got to know what that music is all about!”
Magnus groaned, but allowed her to drag him from the bed. Feeling like a spy, she peeked out the bedroom door, looked up and down the long, deserted corridor. “Coast is clear,” she said, whispering, not knowing why but feeling like it was appropriate. “I think we should head that way.” She pointed to a spiral staircase at the opposite end of the hall from where they entered, half hidden behind a huge stand of artfully arranged potted palms.
Magnus’s big hands spanned her waist, reaching almost all the way around. “Your wish is my command, My Lady,” he whispered, raising the hair on her arms. She straightened, and his hands slid upward, resting on her ribs, just below her breasts. When he spoke again it was against the bare flesh of her nape, exposed by her new short haircut. “Or would you rather I called the shots?”
She turned her head and his lips met her ear. “I wasn’t kidding about my face between your legs, angel,” he breathed, his tongue darting out to softly lick her lobe, sending her heartbeat flying. “I need to taste you again. Soon.”
He slid one hand higher and swept his thumb over her hardened nipple. The other hand he spread flat over her belly, pulling her bottom against his erection, and she let out a soft moan in response. He cupped her chin and tilted her head, kissing her from behind.
“Okay. The faster we figure out what that music is, the faster we can get back to this bedroom,” she said, breathing heavily, liquid fire pooling deep in her belly where he was rubbing slow, teasing circles, heading lower. She pulled herself away, smiling when he groaned in protest, and tugged on his hand. “C’mon. Five minutes.”
“Five,” he said firmly, following. He lifted her hand to his mouth, and pressed his teeth into her thumb. “And then you’re mine.” His eyes were glowing, and her smile grew even wider.
They raced silently down the hallway. They took the stairs two at a time, their feet barely making any sound as they went. They came to another floor, but the stairway kept descending, so they passed it by, gaining speed, their noses picking up the scent of sweat and alcohol, musky perfumes, a dozen different fragrances pummeling them even as the music grew louder and louder. They were getting close.
Finally the stairway ended in a long, dark corridor, its floor bare stone. At the opposite end, lights flashed bright between the slit in a pair of drawn velvet curtains. Shadows crawled along the walls. The music was almost deafening, a bold, base-heavy techno beat, and Magnus guided Lu down the hall toward the curtain. They pushed it aside, and were shocked at the scene laid out before them.
A story below, hundreds of people bounced and twisted, dancing with arms overhead or around a partner or flung wide. Lu barked a laugh at the sheer, unexpected spectacle of it all. There was a DJ booth on one wall, a bar on the other, and an old-fashioned mirrored ball dangled from the ceiling high above. The place was mobbed.
“A speakeasy, of all things!” said Magnus. She barely heard him above the music.
“Our friend MacGregor certainly is an interesting character,” Lu conceded, watching in fascination as the bodies surged and spun. “It must be an underground thing—it’s after Curfew!”
No one on the dance floor looked concerned about Curfew. In fact, there were quite a few couples who seemed far more concerned with getting a good grope in und
er the flashing, blinding lights.
