Winter Halo (Outcast 2)

“Are we talking cognac?”

“We certainly are.”

“Then I would love to.”

He immediately called for the waiter and paid the bill. We walked outside in companionable silence, but the night air was crisp. I shivered and rubbed my arms; I needed to get some warmer clothes if this seduction went any further than one night.

Charles took off his coat and swung it around my shoulders. “My apartment isn’t too far away, though we’ll have to walk, as I don’t own a vehicle.”

He slid one hand down my spine to a point just above my tailbone. It was a point that would have informed him I was wearing no undergarments. The scent of desire grew sharper.

“A short walk will be pleasant after such a lovely meal.” I stepped a little closer so that my shoulder brushed his. His body trembled with expectation, which made me wonder just how long it had been since he’d lain with a woman.

His apartment was situated two blocks down from Zendigah’s, right behind the area on First Street that held most governmental buildings. Regulations restricted construction height to a maximum of twenty levels on both First and Second, and his building was one of the tallest. He scanned us in, then escorted me to the elevator. It, like the building itself, was glass fronted and, as we got higher, offered amazing views over the parkland. His apartment was situated on the twentieth level—a top position that was not only the most prestigious but also the most expensive.

The elevator opened into a foyer that was spacious, bright, and white. There were only two doors—one on the left, the other on the right. Charles touched my back and guided me right. The sensor beeped as we approached and then the door opened. Obviously, it had been programmed to respond to his RFID chip.

The room beyond was one vast white space, with walls of glass on two sides that provided spectacular views over Government House or the park. The furniture was either white leather or glass, and even the air smelled different; cleaner.

“This place is beautiful,” I said.

“The building is family owned. I inherited this apartment from my grandmother.” He took the coat from my shoulders. After hanging it up, he walked across the room and pulled out a beautifully ornate bottle from a drinks cabinet, pouring a generous amount of alcohol into two large balloon glasses.

“And I would think you’d thank your grandmother every day for gifting you with such a gorgeous view.”

I went over to the window, knowing the bright lights of the nearby UVs would make my tunic translucent.

“I was rather lucky. But then, I was also her only grandson.”

He moved toward me. Though I wasn’t actually watching him, the strengthening scent of desire told me he was enjoying the view.

“Then why do you work?” I asked. “It sounds as if you don’t need to.”

He handed me a glass. “Because I want to. And because my other option is not one I wish just yet.”

I didn’t ask what that option was, simply because a note in his voice suggested he didn’t want to talk about it. Silence fell as we sipped our drinks. After five or so minutes had passed, I leaned back against him. His free hand slid around my waist, his fingers briefly skimming the underside of my breasts. Desire stirred; it wasn’t a fierce thing, wasn’t a rush, but I nevertheless welcomed it. Seduction was always easier when I felt at least some connection, and that hadn’t always been the case during the war, despite my natural affinity to shifters. But then, I’d never found brutal men appealing, in bed or out, and many of the generals during that time had been little more than the beasts they accused déchet of being.

Once I’d finished, he plucked my glass from my hand, then turned me around and kissed me. It was at first almost too polite, but it deepened—became more ardent—once he realized I was willing.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed closer. His kisses became fiercer, his tongue tasting and exploring my mouth. Then he pulled away, caught the end of my tunic, and tugged it over my head. He tossed it onto the nearby sofa and stood back.

“Magnificent,” he murmured as his gaze did a long, slow journey down my body. “Just magnificent.”

Then he stepped close again and with hands and mouth tasted, teased, and explored. I undid his shirt and slipped it from his shoulders, but as I loosened his trousers to caress the heat of his erection, he caught my hand, stopping me.

“This will be over far too fast if you do that.” Amusement warred with desire in his expression. “I also believe we have provided the neighbors with enough entertainment.”

He tugged me away from the window and led me into one of two rooms at the rear of the apartment. It was a bedroom complete with a huge glass bath—something I’d never seen before. The bed itself was equally impressive—a huge round thing covered in white silk and furs.

Sensation rippled through me as I lay down, and memories of times past when I’d lain on coverings such as this stirred. At least this time I was doing so of my own free will.

“Before we continue,” he murmured, tracing a circle around my belly button, “I need to inform you that while I might be in my twilight years, I am still fully fertile.”

“Your scent told me that. But it’s not a problem.” But not, as he would undoubtedly presume, because I was protected from impregnation, but because I’d been created sterile.

He smiled and continued his seduction, until sweat sheened his body and desire was evident in mine. Only then did he let me touch him, caress him. Only then did he let me climb on top of him and drive him deep inside.

That was the moment I unleashed my seeker skills.