Frostbite (Last Call #5) Read online

  Copyright Information

  Frostbite

  Copyright © 2012 Moira Rogers

  http://www.moirarogers.com

  Smashwords Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Information

  Frostbite

  The Last Call Series

  About the Author

  Frostbite

  Looking for a partner immune to supernatural seduction.

  Last Call wasn’t her usual scene.

  Kelsey snagged a menu from the end of the bar and thumbed the edge as she scanned the offerings. She was used to clubs, all right—the carefully orchestrated dance of the horny, the line between need and desperation growing thinner with each passing drink. But she wasn’t used to places humans couldn’t even enter, places where five grand got you a drink and a room key.

  Both very, very special.

  She trailed one manicured nail past the initial categories—werewolves, vampires, fae. The usual, she imagined, for a place like Last Call. On the back, at the bottom of the page, printed in smaller letters than the rest, was one last heading.

  Other.

  She smiled and drained her whiskey. Amusing, if not flattering, that she was an anomaly so rare there wasn’t even a category to include her, just a catchall section at the bottom of a menu, right beside the acknowledgment that parties of six or more would be assessed an automatic gratuity of eighteen percent.

  Frostbite: Looking for a partner immune to supernatural seduction.

  Kelsey lingered over the words, licking her lips. It shouldn’t be so damn hard to get laid without having to talk, but even an anonymous bar hookup required a modicum of conversation. If she spoke at all, her potential partner was equally likely to follow her home, humping her leg like a dog, or throw himself from a building to get her attention.

  Both had happened before.

  She leaned forward before she could stop herself, sliding the menu toward the bartender with one upraised eyebrow.

  He followed her finger toward the line she’d pointed to, then glanced up at her, assessment in his dark eyes. “Siren?”

  Kelsey tapped her temple and winked.

  He smiled widely. “You know how it works?”

  She handed him her credit card and held her breath as she glanced around the club. Half the patrons were staring at the bartender—at her—and she suspected that even if no one was looking for sex, curiosity demanded they watch what happened next.

  The bartender tucked her credit card under the counter and handed her a slim key card before reaching up to tap the side of his earpiece. “Last Call for the lady. Frostbite.”

  The music resumed with a thumping beat, and Kelsey turned to watch the crowd as the bartender prepared her drink. Some were checking menus, undoubtedly unfamiliar with the drink’s coded meaning, but several men had already drawn free of the crowd, perhaps wondering exactly what her brand of seductive magic was.

  And whether they could handle it.

  The bartender set down her drink with a murmur of encouragement. She picked it up only long enough to take a sip—she hated cream mixed with her liquor on the best of days, but she had to signal to the gathered revelers that she was ready to go.

  In every way.

  A suited figure appeared at the bottom of the steps, a stern, unsmiling man who watched her without expression. He stood there, tall and severe, looking for all the world like a stockbroker who’d accidentally wandered into the bar on his way home from a meeting.

  Kelsey wondered what he really was, under the twill and the frown.

  Only one way to find out. She slid off her stool and walked slowly down the steps before stopping on the last one to study him. They were nearly eye-to-eye because of the height difference and her heels, and this close, he looked even harsher—

  Unyielding.

  She drew in a breath. It could work, at least for a while...if she could get him upstairs. So she leaned in, licked the corner of his mouth, and shifted her mouth to his ear to administer her final test. A mere whisper. “Take me here.”

  “No.” The man pulled back and studied her in inscrutable silence as the crowd behind him watched avidly. Then he held up a hand. “Proof enough?”

  The denial alone weakened her knees, and her cheeks heated as she offered him the card key for the room. “Yes.”

  He accepted the key and her blush with the same calm acceptance, as if neither her capitulation nor her arousal particularly surprised him. After pocketing the key, he dropped a hand to the small of her back and coaxed her from the steps. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  She let him guide her toward the elevator, and he’d already slid the card to call it by the time she found her voice—and remembered she could use it. “I’m Kelsey.”

  “Kelsey.” He had a low, smooth voice with the promise of rough edges. It matched the neatly pressed suit wrapped around his hard body. “I’m Cain.”

  Of course he was. A name as hard as the man himself. “It’s nice to meet you, Cain.”

  The elevator door slid open, revealing their reflection in the polished back wall of the car. He stepped forward, urging her along with that uncompromising hand at the small of her back. “Do you come to Last Call often?”

  “Occasionally. My first time upstairs, though.” The elevator doors whispered shut behind them. “You?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched, and it was the most detached smile she’d ever seen. “I’ve been upstairs before.”

  “Mmm.” Damn, but she was bad at small talk, probably because she never got the chance.

  She leaned against the mirrored wall as the car began its ascent. Cain certainly seemed like the answer, a man unmoved by anything, much less her voice. And even though that was the point, it made her perversely determined to rattle him before the night ended, to get under his skin in a way that didn’t include magic.

  He was hot. She was aching.

  Five grand—and worth every penny.

  The girl wasn’t used to men who could say no, which made it easy to turn her on.

  In four centuries, Cain had come across most of the more common kinks. Humans were constantly convincing themselves that each year brought new debaucheries, but no carnal game was new. Especially not games of power.

  Most especially for those who weren’t quite human.

  The elevator coasted to a stop, but Cain didn’t step through the open doors. Instead, he caught Kelsey’s arm. “You haven’t asked me what I am yet.”

  She gazed down at his hand on her arm. Her breathing quickened. “I don’t plan on asking.”

  It was a recklessness that would have been suicidal outside the four walls of Last Call. At least the bar had spells layered into the walls and rooms that would protect her. Unsettling, that her lack of concern irritated him. “You’re not curious, or you don’t want to know?”

  “Honestly?” She shrugged one bare shoulder. “I don’t usually talk to the men I fuck, so it likely wouldn’t have occurred to me to inquire.”

  No, she probably didn’t. Even he could feel the stir of her voice in his immortal blood. It was a refreshing change from the monotony of numbness, but he knew he could tune out the magic if it threatened to overwhelm him.

  The doors began to clos
e, so he blocked one with his foot. “You can talk to me. That’s the point, my dear. Talk to me.”

  She opened her mouth, obviously to protest, but the words died on her tongue. Instead, she closed her mouth, opened it again, and finally sighed. “I really want to mess up your hair.”

  It startled him into a smile, and he prodded her out of the elevator. “I’m sure you’ll have a chance to do so.”

  Kelsey wandered a few steps down the hall before turning to face him. “You’ve figured me out already, so what’s your deal? Not what you are—why you came upstairs with me.”

  A good question. “You’re beautiful. And you’re magical.”

  She blushed a little. “So is everyone else here. Magical, anyway.”

  “Different kinds of magic.” He caught a shining lock of her hair and wound it around his finger. “Your voice will heat my blood. It’s usually damn cold.”

  That gave her pause. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? A Collector. An angel of death.”

  “A reaper of souls?” The suit must have given him away—that or the frown. “Does it bother you?”

  She tilted her head. “I might be terribly shallow, but...no. I want to touch you. That’s all I’m really thinking about right now.”

  The part of him braced for rejection relaxed minutely. Cain released her hair and held up the key. “Then I look forward to being touched, as long as you make me one promise.”

  “What’s that?”

  He leaned down, close to her ear. A woman used to silence would enjoy dark whispers. “Keep talking. Your voice may not strip my will, but it makes my cock hard.”

  Kelsey gripped his tie and swayed toward him with a moan. “That’s better. I don’t want to strip your will. I just want.”

  “Good.” He freed her fingers and turned her around. “Open the door.” He made the words an order, just to see how readily she obeyed.

  Her hands trembled as she swiped the card and turned the knob. Sweet submission, or perhaps just a burning need gone too long unmet. He waited until she’d edged open the door, then pressed his body to hers. “Don’t forget to speak. I want to hear your voice.”

  “What should I say?” she whispered.

  He smoothed his hand down her side and gathered her dress in his fist as the door swung shut behind them. “Tell me how it feels to know I might say no to you.”

  “Like—” Her head fell back against his shoulder. “Like doing something dangerous. You know you could get caught, you almost want to. I mean, you don’t, but the fact that you could...”

  His emotions were difficult to stir, but his body responded quickly enough. His cock strained the front of his pants as he rubbed against her. “You’ve been getting away with things for a long time. I think you do want to get caught.”

  “Maybe.” Kelsey moved, slow and sensuous. “The more aroused I get, the harder the magic hits. Can you feel it?”

  More than he wanted to admit. He eased her dress higher and stroked her belly. “You’re grinding against my dick, darling. You know I can.”

  “It could be purely physical.” She turned in his arms and slipped her hands under the lapels of his jacket. “What do you like?”

  “Grinding.” He reached behind her to tug at the zipper on her dress. “A woman’s naked form. The way she tastes while she’s coming.”

  Kelsey tugged down the bodice of her dress to reveal black lacy lingerie with demure, sweet little ribbons. “I think I’ll like talking. Not even during sex, perhaps, but this...is nice.”

  Yes, words would unravel her. Even a reaper’s coldness couldn’t suppress the fascination of learning a woman’s needs and solving the riddle of her pleasure. “Talking can be quite an aphrodisiac, even without a magical voice.”

  She abandoned her own clothes and reached for his belt, her features set in hunger.

  With his cock aching, he wasn’t about to stop her. “Use your words, darling. What do you want? Do you want to touch me?”

  Her hands clenched around the leather, and she leaned her forehead against his shoulder. “I want you naked so I can look at you.”

  He slid his finger under her chin, tilted her head up. “Undress me,” he whispered before catching her lower lip between his teeth.

  A shudder took her, and she kissed him—hard. She pushed at his jacket and tugged at his shirt. One button went flying, but she pressed closer, angling her hips against his erection with another moan.

  Heat flared. It wasn’t her magic because she wasn’t saying a damn word, not that she could now that he’d licked her lips apart. He claimed her mouth and pushed her dress past her hips to pool on the floor.

  She kicked the dress away, freed the last button on his shirt, and moved on to his belt without breaking the kiss. Finally, she pulled away, but only to whisper, “Shoes.”

  He briefly considered making her remove them, but there were more interesting commands he could issue. One in particular, though he sat and reached for his shoes before murmuring it. “Take off your clothing. All of it.”

  She hesitated, running her thumb along one satiny ribbon on the garter belt. “You don’t like it?”

  What man wouldn’t? Wicked black lace threaded with soft ribbons the color of ripe raspberries, a deliberately manipulative combination of sweet and wanton. Her lingerie was meant to flatter and blind the male ego with the contradictory promise of an untouched temptress. He knew as much with the cool certainty of experience and a reaper’s innate immunity to the machinations of those who might try to trick death.

  Knowing didn’t matter, though. Not to his body, which seemed stupidly human as he watched her fingers brush her thigh. “It’s very nice,” he said, answering her question belatedly. “Too nice to risk ripping to pieces if I grow impatient.”

  “That’s very considerate,” she murmured, then twisted her hand in the lacy strap and tore it away.

  He caught her wrist before she could tear anything else and dragged her astride his lap. “If that’s the case, love, then I’d just as soon you leave it on until I decide to get rid of it.”

  “All right.” She trailed her fingers over his shoulders and down his chest. “I feel surprisingly accommodating at the moment.”

  So did he, so he took a moment to layer a bit more power into his defenses. Not that it would be so terrible to give in to her, but she’d paid dearly for a night in this room with a man who wouldn’t. “Perhaps we should discuss how accommodating you want to be. You said you’ve never been upstairs before?”

  “No, never.” Her hand flattened over his stomach and dipped down a fraction of an inch beneath his waistband before sliding back up.

  He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned her head toward the discreet cabinet on the far wall. “That is filled with all manner of wickedness. Adornments, chains, oils, clever little toys. Some enchanted or fueled by magic. Everything one might require for a night of debauchery.”

  Her eyes sparked with curiosity. “Are there any items you particularly enjoy?”

  No reason not to answer honestly. He released her chin and clasped her wrist instead, drawing his tongue over her fluttering pulse. “Delicate, beautiful bracelets with thin gold chains. They look as insubstantial as common jewelry, but they’re enchanted. Not even a werewolf could break free of them.”

  Her breathing hitched. “Will you put me in them?”

  Total abdication of power. He wondered if she’d ever had that before, or if no man could withstand her magic long enough to take the burden of control from her shoulders. “Would you enjoy being at my mercy?”

  Kelsey only stared at him. “Do you know what it’s like? To get everything you want, but sometimes so quickly that it’s over before you even know what the hell’s going on?”

  “No.” He kissed her wrist again. “Tell me.”

  “No damn fun, that’s what.” The corner of her mouth kicked up. “But you? You’re fun, I can tell. So chain me to whatever you want, as long as we get to make
each other come.”

  That, he thought, was an inevitability. “Go peek in the cupboard, love, and bring back the bracelets. And anything else that intrigues you.”

  Everything she could think of—and a few things she hadn’t known existed—lay inside the cabinet, but the thing that intrigued her most in the room was sitting behind her, half naked and sexy as hell.

  Nestled among the toys were the delicate chains Cain had mentioned, and Kelsey gathered them in one hand. She studied the other shelves, all the accessories and vials. She briefly considered the selection of aphrodisiacs and philters, then bit her lip. She could have muddled someone’s libido just fine without coming to Last Call, but perhaps he’d like for her to partake.

  Not that she needed to. She was rubbing her legs together already, reduced to fidgeting to relieve a little tension as she stared into the cupboard.

  Warm fingers slid over her shoulders, the first hint that he’d moved from the bedside. “It can be overwhelming,” he murmured. “But we can always start simply.”

  “I’m not intimidated,” she hurried to tell him. “I’m just not sure if there’s something else in here you want. Because I don’t really need any of it.”

  “If I’d wanted something else, I would have told you.” He touched the edge of the chain dangling from her fingers. “I’m not shy about my desires.”

  She was acting like a nervous virgin—and in plenty of ways, she supposed she was one. Her memory refused to supply even the vaguest idea of when she’d last had a man who didn’t trip over his feet to cater to her every whim, and now...

  It was absurd but true. In this respect, she was untutored. All but untouched.

  “I feel silly,” she found herself admitting in a whisper, “for not knowing how to do this.”

  Cain stroked the side of her neck and pressed a kiss there. “There’s no right or wrong way, as long as we both enjoy ourselves. But if you’d find relief in having no choices to make, I’d find pleasure in that too.”