Mallory reached down to unzip his jeans, but when she tugged them down they tangled with his ankles. He stumbled slightly, half-gasping, and they went down together onto the floor. ‘Ouch!’ she exclaimed, sitting up abruptly.
He froze. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘Yes!’ She pointed to her mouth, unable to hide her grin. ‘Right here.’
Alexander reached for her. ‘I’ll kiss it better.’
Mallory tapped her neck. ‘It hurts here, too.’ His lips descended as he pressed butterfly kisses against her skin. She moaned briefly and reached behind her back to unclip her bra. ‘Lower,’ she breathed. ‘It hurts lower. So very, very sore.’
His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing her nipples. ‘Here?’
She gasped. ‘Y–yes.’
His head lowered again, his mouth closing around one nipple while his hand teased the other.
‘God, Alex…’ she whispered. Mallory’s entire body was shaking now, trembling with need and desire.
He pulled back just enough to look at her. ‘I love you, Mallory Nash.’
‘I love you, too.’
And that was when the tide broke and their movements became frantic with need. Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his boxer shorts, pulling them down and out of the way. She had barely a moment to admire the hard length of him before he reached for her pants, ripping the fabric in his haste. He tossed her underwear aside. Then, with his eyes on hers, he moved his hand between her legs and circled the nub of her clitoris.
‘Please, Alex.’ Her voice was strained.
His answer was rough. ‘Please what?’
‘I need you now.’
‘In that case, I suppose I’d better oblige. You are a powerful squib, after all. There’s no telling what you might do if you don’t get what you want.’ He moved slightly and thrust inside her, groaning as she clung to his shoulders.
He pressed his sweat-slick forehead against hers. ‘Tell me, Mallory,’ he said. He thrust once more and her hips rose to meet his, then again and again and again.
Her breath was coming short and fast as their rhythm speeded up and she felt the power building to a crescendo inside her. ‘Now,’ she gasped.
Alexander pushed even deeper inside her and Mallory cried out. A second later he did the same, his body shuddering until they collapsed together, hearts pounding, limbs entwined.
Several long, glorious seconds passed as the last of their tremors ebbed away.
Alexander cupped her face. ‘Now it’s a happy ending,’ he murmured huskily.
Mallory wrinkled her nose. ‘No,’ she disagreed. ‘As far as you and I are concerned, this is only the beginning.’
His eyes danced. ‘That might be the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said.’ He stroked her cheek with his thumb. ‘And that’s saying something.’
‘Shall I retract my statement?’
‘Absolutely,’ he breathed, kissing her once more, ‘definitely not.’
Epilogue
Lord Chester Longchamps was dressed to the nines but not in a top hat and tails, nor in a custom-made kilt or a sharp suit delivered direct from Savile Row. He was wearing the best, the strongest, the most magically enhanced armour that money could buy. A bulging backpack rested on his shoulders and in one hand he carried a gun loaded with poison-tipped bullets. In his other hand, he cradled the bellarmine jug.
The silly squib woman had been almost giddy with delight when she’d passed over the jug. She’d couldn’t keep that ridiculous grin off her face even though it had been her fault that he’d had to wait so long for the damned thing. Lives had been lost because of the delay, though thankfully not vampire lives.
The new system was working well and no-one with fangs had died since it had been implemented, but that wasn’t the point; it was the principle that bothered him. Besides, it was only a matter of time before one of the other Preternatural groups noticed their missing brethren. The new system was a stop gap, not a permanent solution. Some of his less sensible peers were growing suspicious and their delicate sensibilities and overly liberal attitudes would soon be a problem. The Clouded Map wasthe only way to put an end to this dreadful palaver once and for all.
It wasn’t lost on Chester that there was something going on between Mallory Nash and that mange-ridden excuse for a werewolf who’d dared to force his way into his house and launch an unprovoked assault. Once this gruesome business was dealt with, he’d take his revenge on the MacTire bastardandthe Nash squib.
