All things considered, he should have been passed out on his bed. He was polluted enough for the lights-out routine, and it had, after all, been his goal. Problem was, even with all the self-medicating, his head was suffering from the 4 Cs of heebie-jeebies: Cormia’s situation. The Chosen responsibility. The clinic’s infiltration. And Bella’s child.
Okay, the last one was a human term. But still.
At least the wizard was relatively quiet.
Phury pushed open a random door and tried to figure out where the cat had led him. Oh, right. If he kept going, he’d hit doggen territory, the vast wing where the staff stayed. Which would be trouble. If he was found wandering there, Fritz would pop an aneurysm on the assumption that the servants had somehow not discharged their duties properly.
As Phury hung a right, the base of his brain started to fire with the need for another hit of red smoke. He was on the verge of turning back when he heard sounds coming down from the third floor’s back stairwell. Someone was up in the movie theater… which meant he really needed to beat feet in the opposite direction, because running into one of his brothers would be a bad thing.
He was turning away when he caught the scent of jasmine.
Phury froze. Cormia…
Cormia was up there.
Letting himself fall back against the wall, he scrubbed his face and thought of that erotic drawing he’d done. And the hard-on he’d had while working on it.
Boo let out a meow and padded right up to the theater’s door. As the cat looked over his shoulder, his green eyes seemed to read, Go on, getcha ass up there, buddy.
“I can’t.” Try shouldn’t.
Boo didn’t buy it. The cat curled into a sit, his tail flexing up and down as if he were waiting for Phury to get with the program already.
Phury locked stares with the animal in a classic chicken challenge.
He, not the cat, blinked first and looked away.
Giving up the fight, he ran a hand through his hair. Straightened his black silk shirt. Jacked up his cream trousers. He might be totally cooked, but at least he looked like a gentleman.
Evidently satisfied with the resolve he was seeing, Boo trotted away from the door and brushed against Phury’s leg as if he were giving him an attaboy.
As the cat headed off, Phury opened the door and put his Gucci loafer up on a step. Then repeated. And repeated. He used the brass handrail to steady his big body, and tried to justify what he was doing as he ascended. He couldn’t. If you were barely in good enough shape to use Colgate, you absolutely shouldn’t interact with the Chosen female who was no longer officially yours, but who you wanted until your cock ached.
Especially given the news he had to share.
He got to the top of the stairs, rounded the corner, and looked down the gently descending rows of seats. Cormia was in front, her white Chosen’s robe pooling at her feet. Up on the screen images were flickering fast. She was rewinding a scene.
He breathed in. God, she smelled good… and for some reason that jasmine scent of hers was especially strong tonight.
The rewinding stopped, and Phury glanced up at the vast screen. Holy… Christ.
It was… a love scene. Patrick Swayze and that Jennifer woman with the nose were working each other out on a bed. Dirty Dancing.
Cormia leaned forward in the chair, her face coming into view. Her eyes were rapt on what was up ahead, her lips parted, one hand resting on the base of her throat. Long blond hair fell over her shoulder and brushed the top of her knee.
Phury’s body hardened, his erection popping a tent in the front of his Prada trousers, laying waste to the tailored pleating. Even through the haze of red smoke, his sex roared.
But not because of what was on the screen. Cormia was his trigger.
In a flash, he remembered her at his throat, and under his body, and the SOB in him pointed out that he was the Chosen’s Primale, so he made the rules. Even though he and the Directrix had agreed that he would pick another First Mate, he could still be with Cormia if he wanted to, and if she would have him-it just wouldn’t hold the same weight in terms of the ceremony.
Yes… even though he would take another to complete the Primale initiation, he could still march down the shallow steps, drop to his knees in front of Cormia, and push her white robing to her hips. He could slide his hands up her thighs and spread her wide and dip down with his head. After he got her good and wet with his mouth, he could-
Phury let his head fall back on his neck. Okay, this was so not helping to slow his roll. And besides, he’d never gone down on a female before, so he wasn’t sure what to do.
Although, he supposed, if he could eat an ice cream cone, the licking and sucking would translate pretty damn well.
As would the gentle biting.
Fuck.
As leaving was the only decent thing to do, he turned away. If he stayed, he wasn’t going to be able to hold himself back from her.
“Your grace?”
Cormia’s voice froze his breath and his steps. And had his cock doing push-ups.
Out of propriety, he reminded his sex that her saying something was not an invitation to act out his on-the-knees, head-between-her-thighs, X-rated fantasy.
Fuck.
The movie theater felt as big as a shoe box as she said, “Your grace, did you… need something?”
Do not turn back around.
Phury looked over his shoulder, his glowing eyes casting a yellow wash of illumination down the backs of the chairs. Cormia was spotlit by his stare, her hair catching and holding the rays generated by his urge to come inside of her.
“Your grace…” she breathed.
“What are you watching?” he said in a low voice, even though it was perfectly obvious what was up on the screen.
“Ah… John picked the movie.” She fumbled with the remote, pushing buttons until the picture froze.
“Not the movie, Cormia, the scene.”
"Ah…”
“This scene you’ve chosen… you’ve been watching it over and over again, haven’t you.”
Her reply was husky. “Yes… I have.”
God, she was lovely as she twisted around in that chair to face him… all eyes and mouth, her pale hair everywhere, the scent of jasmine filling the gap between them.
She was aroused; that was why her natural fragrance was so strong.
“Why this scene?” he asked. “Why did you choose this one?”
As he waited for her to answer, his body strained, his erection throbbing to the beat of his heart. What pounded through his blood had nothing to with rituals or obligations or responsibility. It was straight-out, hard-core sex, the kind that was going to leave them both exhausted and sweaty and messy and probably a little bruised. And to his total discredit, he didn’t care that she was aroused because of what she’d been looking at. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t about him. He wanted her to use him… use him until he was drained dry and every inch of his body was utterly limp, even that ever-ready cock of his.
“Why did you pick the scene, Cormia?”
Her graceful hand went back to the base of her throat. “Because… it makes me think of you.”
Phury exhaled on a growl. Okay, that was not what he expected her say. And duty was one thing, but man, she didn’t have the look of a female worried about living up to tradition. She wanted sex. Maybe even needed it. Just like he did.
And she wanted it with him.
In slow motion, Phury pivoted toward her, his body suddenly very coordinated, the fuzz from all the red smoke and booze totally blown away.
He was going to take her. Here. Now.
He headed down the shallow steps, ready to claim what was his.