Heiress to a Curse. Zandria Munson
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He lifted her higher, allowing his tongue deeper invasion into her secrets and a moment later, her entire body began to tremble with a climatic orgasm.
Marius fought to catch his breath. He couldn’t understand what had just happened. He’d come with only one task in mind, yet somehow he’d found himself driven to touch and taste her. Even now he battled the urge to pin her where she lay and appease the ache in his loins. He’d allowed himself to be weakened by her, his enemy. He was unworthy of the Drakon title.
She dreamed of a sensuous heat that engulfed her, seeping in and out of her mind and body. She was helpless against it and could do nothing but succumb to the intense pleasure it offered.
Alexandra screamed. She spread her thighs wider and arched higher off the bed as she welcomed the shuddering release. She felt herself being lowered back down and she abruptly realized that this was no dream. Her eyes flew open and her moan of pleasure quickly became a shriek. Thinking only that she needed to get away, she rolled off the bed and landed on the floor.
The broad shadow that was crouched at the foot of her bed glared at her with fiery eyes that reflected a deep and burning passion. It rose slowly and the spill of the moonlight fell over it.
Alexandra was rendered motionless. The creature was unlike anything her mortal mind could conjure. His face and body resembled those of a man—he was tall and powerful like the Greek gods she so loved to read about—he wore only a fitted pair of black pants that clung to his lean waist and sculpted thighs, and boots of the same foreboding hue complemented his attire. Yet, he was no man, for horns crowned his head and great wings guarded his back. Is he a demon?
With a savage growl, the creature snatched his blade and fled through the open door and into the night.
Had what she’d seen been real? Her heart was racing, and her trembling fingers found their way to the wet and throbbing place between her thighs. One thing was certain—she’d experienced an intense orgasm. A gust of cool night air flooded her room, lifting the sheer drape, and she shivered. She was also certain that the glass door had been closed. Something or someone had climbed in and assaulted her while she slept.
Still trembling, she grabbed the phone off the night table and began to dial the police, but paused before her fingers could engage the third digit. What would she tell them? That a demon had just invaded her seventh-story apartment and given her great oral sex? She hung up and dialed her psychiatrist instead.
Chapter 4
The next morning Alexandra was still unsure if what she’d seen had been real or some sort of twisted dream. She’d decided to keep the experience to herself, at least until her 7:00 p.m. appointment with Dr. Peters. Instead of dwelling on it, she poured herself into her work. The story on the mysterious Hyde Park fires still needed to be finished.
She sat behind her desk and began sifting through the countless photographs and notes that she’d collected over the past two weeks. Her mind immediately began to race, its performance no doubt fueled by last night’s events. Images and words began to flash within her thoughts. She snatched a pen from her desk and began scribbling down everything she saw.
Alexandra was about to leave her desk to follow the leads she’d obtained from the photographs when her attention was drawn to the plasma TV, mounted on the wall, that broadcasted the news during the day.
“In Pennsylvania, the body of a female was discovered in an abandoned building early yesterday morning.” The reporter spoke somberly. “The partially decomposed corpse has been identified as twenty-seven-year-old Trish Gooding, who has been missing since last Tuesday. This murder brings the count to three within the Union City area, and detectives have concluded that it is the work of the Penn State Serial Killer.”
Alexandra’s heart felt heavy. She didn’t understand how an individual could be so callous as to regard human life as nothing but a tool for his amusement. How could a man’s conscience allow him to snatch a young woman from her home, rape her, torture her and kill her?
She was about to turn to go when an image on the TV made her pause. A photograph of a young girl.
“In other news, twelve-year-old Mady Halman went missing on Friday evening,” came the reporter’s voice. “She was last seen a few blocks from her home in the South Bronx area.”
Alexandra froze as blurry images flashed before her eyes. The reporter’s words were lost in the heavy drumming of blood rushing to her brain. She could see Mady, walking in the park. A tall man, his face obscured by a hooded sweatshirt, talking to her. Taking her. Then darkness. Blood. Pain. A young girl’s screams. Then the uncanny image of Trish Gooding, fleeing for her life.
Alexandra gasped as she came abruptly back to the present. She was shaking and the breath had been snatched from her lungs.
It was as if she’d been standing right there, watching it all take place. She’d felt the child’s pain. Mady was alone, crying for her mother and receiving only silence in return. The Penn State Serial Killer had kidnapped that child, and he was going to kill her.
Alexandra knew what she had to do. She couldn’t wait for her certainty to be confirmed. If there was a chance to save that little girl, then she was willing to take it. She hadn’t been able to save her own parents, but she’d do everything in her power to save this little girl.
With hardened resolve, she headed toward the editor in chief’s office.
“Come in!” came Mr. O’Reily’s reply following her knock.
Alexandra entered to find him perusing a pile of articles on his desk. He shot her a quick glance over the rim of his glasses. “Barret, what can I do for you?” he asked.
She braced her hands on his desk and fixed him with a determined look. “I want the Mady Halman story.”
“That’s breaking news, not a feature. And I assigned that one to Thomas already.” He refused her without taking his eyes from his work.
“Then reassign it. I want it.”
He looked up then, his eyes narrowing. Alexandra knew that her behavior was out of character, for she’d never made a fuss about getting any particular project.
He reclined in his chair. “Are you done with the feature on the victims of the Hyde Park fires?”
“Well, no, but I’ll finish it before the end of the month. I just want this story.”
“I can’t have you working two stories at once and I need that Hyde Park article completed by Wednesday,” he told her firmly.
Alexandra sighed in exasperation. “Look, I’ll get it done and have it on your desk by tomorrow if I need to. Just give me a chance. I need to do this.”
His eyes focused on her. After what seemed like an eternity of silent assessment, he nodded. “Fine, but if you don’t have the Hyde Park article on my desk by Wednesday morning, I’m pulling you out.”
She nodded with a smile. “Thank you, sir.” All she needed was enough time to locate Mady.
“You’re