This tiny creature wants me as prey. The thought made his balls ache. “Suck me. Drain me!”
“Ummm.” She met him, grinding her sex against him faster.
“Ah, I scent you! Your tight little pussy gets so wet. Sweet and slick. Can’t stop thinking about your taste.” He tried to hold back, to draw out their pleasure. But he could hear her swallowing as she consumed him, could imagine his hot lifeblood filling her lush body, coursing all over her. “Ah, fuck,” he groaned. “Too good! You going to come for me?”
She whimpered against his neck, sucking wantonly, grinding, grinding. . . .
“Harder!” His shaft throbbed, his ballsac tightening. “You told me you’d fuck me with your fangs—do it.”
She dug her claws in deep, and she bit down hard.
His mind turned over. His cock jerked in his pants. He shoved and shoved, words bursting from his lips. Pleasure racked him, whipped him, made his knees go weak. His bellow was like an explosion from his lungs.
She released her bite to throw back her head. Still writhing on him, she screamed, her pale throat working.
He rasped at her ear, “That’s it. You like the way I make you come. . . .”
When she finished with a shiver, she met his gaze. Her irises were black, her lips so plump as she licked them for more of his taste.
They caught their breath, still languidly moving against each other. The moment was thick with . . . something. He felt as if he might say words he’d regret. Or she might.
But he couldn’t seem to let her go—
A knock sounded, and she hissed at the door.
He reluctantly set her down, then adjusted his sensitive cock. Curious how she would interact with others—he’d only seen her with Nïx—he said, “By all means.”
She traced to open the door. A human male stood outside.
“You want me to flay you,” she told him. “To contribute to my man quilt. Come back Sunday. That’s my sewing day.”
The man’s face was pale, and he reeked of urine. He offered up a piece of paper. “A woman named Nïx left a message earlier.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Jo snatched the note from the motel owner’s hands, then slammed the door in his face.
“Come on, then,” Rune said. “What did the Valkyrie write?”
Good question. Jo handed over the note. “Too angry to read it.”
He unfolded the paper and read aloud: “ ‘Catch me if you can. I’m on a boat to China for some high tea. The highest.’ ” He met Jo’s gaze. “She wants us to chase her.”
“You think she’s really going there?” Would they be going there? Jo had never been out of the South, had only gone as far west as Texas and as far east as Florida. But after a fresh intake of Rune’s blood—and a heart-stopping orgasm—she felt ready for anything.
“I believe so. She’s too crazy to fear her enemies, and she likes games. She’s worse than Loki.” Whoever. “If she’s leaving us messages, we can be fairly certain she’s clocking our moves.”
“Then won’t she foresee our every attempt?”
“Probably.” He crumpled the note. “Gods damn it!”
“Now what do we do?”
“We hunt her there.” He cast Jo a resentful look. “This doesn’t mean I simply get to quit.”
“Maybe she’ll make a mistake.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve visited China during the scant years of your life?”
“Nope.”
He threaded his fingers through his hair. “I can’t trace us there either.”
“How do you know? Have you tried?”
As if speaking to a child, he said, “Because Loreans can only trace to places we’ve previously been or places we can see.”
“I knew that. Wait . . . You’re so old, but you’ve never been to China?”
“I lived in the Elserealms most of my life. I visit Gaia. I’ve only been to Australia and America.”
“How are we going to travel? I don’t have a passport.” She couldn’t take a plane. Couldn’t even copy a page out of Nïx’s book and take a boat. Not that she could read Nïx’s book.
“We go via demon, finding one who’s been there. For a price, he’ll teleport us.” Rune crossed to her stash of cash. “For our journey.” He pocketed bills, leaving large gold coins in exchange.
“How do we find a demon?”
“They like to hang out at nymph coveys.”
“Naturally, the solution to our problem involves nymphs in some manner.” Rune was a one-trick pony. He reached for nymphs the way a gambling addict reached for dice. “What is the big deal with them?” At his disbelieving expression, she said, “We might value them differently where I come from.”