“I might need forever,” Wycke replied before kissing him again. They turned and spun until Piers no longer felt the mattress under him, the bedclothes, or anything else but the man in his arms, saw nothing but Wycke and the soft blue glow from earlier.
Suddenly, something hard pressed against his back. What the fuck? He stared down at the bed—now sitting where the ceiling should be. What. The. Hell?
Oh, damn! He clutched at the air, finding only Wycke’s body.
Wycke worked Piers’ shaft with his hand, never missing a beat, seemingly touching Piers everywhere at once, turning his mind to mush and his muscles to jelly. Electric jolts of desire shot through Piers’ groin. He wanted. He needed. His muscles tensed, and he wrapped his legs around Wycke’s thighs, urging his lover faster.
“By the ancestors!” Wycke shouted, plunging in hard and holding.
Shockwaves blasted through Piers. His orgasm slammed into him. He pulsed, convulsing, clutching Wycke for dear life.
Flashes of light surrounded them.
They jerked and shuddered, bouncing off one surface then another. No! Couldn’t be!
They fell, breaking apart before hitting the bed.
What the hell just happened?
Strong arms came around him. Piers snuggled into the embrace.
And passed out.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Wycke blinked open bleary eyes. Two onyx orbs glared back at him. “Yaaah!” He grabbed the bedcovers, heart thundering, and reached for his dagger. The dagger flew across the room.
“What makes you think your tiny little blade will work against me now when it didn’t the last time?” Chynne’s face hovered too close.
Not an asshole brother, but dangerous all the same. “Oh, it’s you.” Wycke ran a hand over his face. It was still too damned early to be awake no matter the hour.
“Yes, me.” Chynne exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “Expecting someone else?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time I bedded a handsome man and woke to find a beast in my bed.” Once, quite literally. Who knew Sir Preston came from a long line of bear shapeshifters?
“What do you remember of last night?” Chynne poured innuendo into his words.
“Last night?” Last night. Piers had called. They’d met for drinks and… Wycke shot upright, dislodging Chynne from his chest.
Chynne gave a very catlike screech, hitting the floor with an undignifiedwhoomph.
“Where is he? I don’t remember him leaving.” A slight pang of regret hit in Wycke’s chest. He’d hoped to wake to kisses and warm arms, maybe go another round or three. But, wait. He vaguely remembered a repeat performance in the night. Then he’d fallen asleep…
Repeat performance. The first time. The crackle of power, the flashes of light… Wycke sank back down onto the pillow, propping one arm behind his head.
By the gods! “Compatible magic. Buckets full. The guy’s loaded with power. More than a mage. Sorcerer level, at least. But why hide out in the human realm unless he was banished? And why couldn’t I feel it before last night?” Wycke hadn’t heard of a banished sorcerer. They were too dangerous to give free rein. If Piers earned banishment, he’d have been drained of his power and killed.
Unless no one in the magical realm knew of his power, though George the Ogre and several others seemed to have suspicions. But how could anyone hide anything so blatant? Scribes in Tirra Neu tracked humans with magical abilities to avoid another Lady Nyanda.
“What did your human look like?” Chynne’s voice rose an octave. Concern?
“Handsome, nice smile, dark hair…”
Chynne hopped back onto the bed and swatted Wycke’s face with his paw. “I need to know who came here last night!” The cat’s voice took on a panicked edge.
Ow! “Watch the claws, why don’t you?” Wycke rubbed his hand over his stinging cheek.
“His looks, if you please?” Chynne held up a paw, all five claws extended.