Immortals After Dark 03 - No Rest for the Wicked

“Vampire.” Her hand shot forward to the crotch of his pants and very firmly clutched his sack, her foreclaw slicing his jeans behind it. His eyes widened, and his feet shuffled to a wider stance that would keep his body from falling over. “I could geld you with one flick of my claws”—she tugged down, making him groan in pleasure and pain—“and I’d purr while doing it.”

18
    H e suddenly felt the smooth pad of her forefinger in his jeans. At the shock of her cool skin against his, he jerked, but she held him in place with a sure grip. She grasped him, and her forefinger stroked. He found his hands on her shoulders, rubbing up to her neck and back.
    Even as he relished his first real touch in ages, he thought, She cut through my jeans that easily? Yes, with one flick. Surely she wouldn’t cut him.
    “You need to leave, vampire. Or I’ll make that gravelly voice of yours considerably higher.”
    “Do it, then.” He still hadn’t even recovered from seeing her breasts for the first time. Or her bending over. Christ almighty, that had taken his every ounce of control not to seize her hips and fall into her. And now this? “Do it, or get used to having me around.”
    “What makes you think you get to decide the either/or? I might throw a new variable into the mix.” The little witch continued stroking that forefinger, sending waves of pleasure through him. His mind blanked, just as she’d intended.
    When she removed her hand completely, he shook his head hard. “We’re at an impasse. I won’t leave, and you don’t wish me to stay. So, I have a proposition.”
    She yawned. “Enthrall me.”
    “You believe I’m a beginner with my sword? Then let us have a contest to see who’s the best swordsman. The first to three points of superficial contact wins. If I win, I want your time until dawn to ask you questions—and have them answered honestly.”
    “It’s against the law to tell one of your kind about the Lore.”
    “You don’t strike me as very law-abiding.”
    “I am. When I make the laws.”
    That interested him. Exactly how much power did she wield? Was every creature in this world afraid of her?
    “And when I win?” she asked.
    “I’ll leave you to sweet dreams with your sword for the night.”
    “The words candy and baby spring to mind... but you’ve got a deal.” She tossed him his sword, then collected her own, letting her loose wrist circle it silently through the air. “When I win, you will leave immediately.”
    He freed his as well. “I doubt—”
    She charged, striking with a blinding speed. He barely got his sword up in time. She parried again, and metal clanged as he did his damnedest to block her without hurting her. Her sword wasn’t optimal for hand-to-hand battle. It had no knuckle bow to guard her fingers. If he slipped, she’d lose her fingers.
    He had a good block and counter to her parry, but if she turned the wrong way... Can’t risk it—
    Her sword pressed into his chest. “Point,” she said, her voice laced with smugness.
    His lips nearly curled. They resumed. She was astoundingly good. Her eyes revealed nothing. She telegraphed no move, gave him no hint of weakness. He’d never imagined a female could keep him on his toes.
    And he found himself enjoying the hell out of it, found himself enjoying pride in her skill. “You must have trained for years.”
    “You have no idea, ” she drawled.
    Suddenly, she was no longer in front of him. But her sword was. In the blink of an eye, her sword was snatched behind him and planted into the skin over the base of his spine.
    Sweet Christ... she moved faster than gravity.
    From behind him, she whispered, “ That’s called speed, vampire. Beginning to see the appeal?”
    Blood dripped. He gritted his teeth. “A blow to the back, Kaderin?” He was disappointed in her. He’d thought they had found some common ground. Even before he’d been knighted, living by the sword had always meant more to him than merely fighting with a sword. “Not very honorable of you.”
    When she faced him once more, he realized he could no longer treat this with anything but deadly earnest. He had to earn her respect and was learning that she wouldn’t appreciate the qualities he’d always thought women valued. Courtesy, for instance, had garnered him nothing at the assembly or at the bottom of the world.
    “Honor gets you killed,” she said. They circled each other, her bare feet silent on the tiled floor. Her silk