Mona Lisa Eclipsing m-5 Read online

  She found herself throbbingly moist, fully aroused by the time Gryphon parted with his last article of clothing and closed the distance between them to stand in front of her, not touching. Halcyon’s hands fell away, too, so that the two men surrounded her, front and back, for a moment, a walled enclosure of strong, naked male bodies.

  Gryphon backed slowly onto the bed, holding her gaze. “Come here,” he said in a rough, sensual demand, lying back against the pillows like a pagan lord.

  Had they deliberately planned it this way? she wondered. The last time she had been with Gryphon—the first time making love to him since he had become demon dead—had been difficult. Afraid of touching her with his sharp demon nails or his fanged mouth, Gryphon had been unable to prepare her adequately. Now, though, her body was more than ready for him after the show the two of them had put on, or more accurately, put her through.

  Well, if two could play the same game, so could three.

  With a gentle sway of her hips, Mona Lisa stepped toward the bed, at an angle so that both of her dark, teasing demons could see.

  Her hands started at her neck and stroked slowly, smoothly, down the mounds of her breast, grazing over her nipples. The unexpectedly sharp jolt of sensation hardened the peaks and pulled one groan, and one growl, from her audience of two. They watched her with hot, avid attention. Followed the caressing glide of her fingers down her midriff as she swayed and sauntered over to the bed. Watched with glued eyes as she came to the edge of the mattress and ran her hands down her thighs and then back up, coming to a teasing halt just above her small triangle of hair.

  She wasn’t beautiful, but under their intent gazes, she felt more than beautiful: she felt like a wanton seductress, the slightest move of her hands hungrily devoured by their gleaming eyes.

  Sinuously she crawled onto the bed.

  Gryphon began to sit up and she used one finger to hold him still. “Oh, no,” she whispered, “I haven’t had my turn yet.” Leaning in, she kissed the corner of his mouth, nibbled the curve of his lower lip. “You have the most gorgeous mouth,” she murmured, pulling away when he began to kiss her back. Using both hands, she pushed him prone again, his body deliciously laid out for her enjoyment.

  God, he was beautiful. A stunning, dazzling feast to the eyes.

  Her gaze drifted to her dark Demon Prince. “Come here on the other side, Halcyon, so I can see and enjoy you both.”

  Her Demon Prince moved—no, not moved, that would be too tame a word for what Halcyon did. He prowled with dangerous grace to the other side of the bed, his erect sword leading the way, every fluid movement imbued with raw carnality. The sensual heat of his eyes was mixed with amusement. “Competitive little thing, aren’t you?” he murmured.

  “Oh,” she purred, “you have no idea.”

  Kneeling beside Gryphon, with her eyes fastened on Halcyon, Mona Lisa put her left hand over the top of Gryphon’s foot and stroked the delicately arched insole.

  Gryphon twitched.

  “Stay still,” she murmured, and ran her hand up his leg.

  Gryphon’s staff, already thick and flushed, grew even duskier in hue as her fingers trailed closer. Halcyon’s thickened pole bobbed and twitched as well, she was happy to see as she continued the upward sweep of her hand. Her fingers ran along Gryphon’s hip, traced the muscles along his abdomen and chest with sweet, appreciative pleasure. And what she touched on Gryphon’s body with her hand, her eyes swept in visual caress over Halcyon.

  “Watch me,” Mona Lisa said in soft command to her Demon Prince. Leaning over, with her breasts suspended over Gryphon, she began kissing her way down his chin, his throat, the upper pectoral swell, the hard, flat abdomen, and what lay against it in quivering attention.

  She kissed her way down the length of his penis, one hand cupping and squeezed his balls, while the other grasped his twitching staff and held it still as she put her mouth over the tip, letting her soft breath caress him for a torturous moment of strung-out anticipation.

  “Mona Lisa . . .” Gryphon spoke her name in a rough, needy groan.

  In reward, her tongue flicked out and licked the fluid that had gathered at the tip. Eyes fastened on Halcyon, Mona Lisa delicately licked her way around the entire head until she came to the sensitive under-ridge and laved it with attentive care, probing there until Gryphon’s hips arched up involuntarily. She slipped her mouth down over him for a briefly blissful sucking second, then released him, pinning down his hips with both hands. “Uh-uh. No moving until I tell you to,” she chastised gently.

  Her eyes flicked back up to her Demon Lord. “Up on the bed by the pillows, Halcyon. I want you to have a good view.”

  “As my lady commands,” Halcyon murmured, moving with catlike grace onto the bed, his dark eyes growing even more brilliant and intent as Mona Lisa swung her leg over Gryphon, straddling him. Using one hand to position him, she sank down on him in a hot, wet glide.

  “Sweet Goddess of Light,” Gryphon said, his voice taut and strained as Mona Lisa began to glow. “So tight . . .”

  Mona Lisa didn’t rush it. Just let her weight slowly sink her down, watching Halcyon, whose dark, glittering eyes focused on where Gryphon penetrated her, disappearing inch by inch.

  Mona Lisa couldn’t see it, but she could feel it, imagine it: Gryphon’s thick length slowly spearing into her. Her own inner muscles tightly surrounding, engulfing him, swallowing him up until their mounds met.

  She lifted herself steadily back up as if she were riding a carousel horse, rising almost to the end of his pole, feeling the hard slide of him out. Slowly impaling herself on him back down. But at the end of this cycle, instead of rising up, she leaned back until her spine brushed against Gryphon’s thighs, bending his rigid staff at an acute angle, and rode him this way so that she could see now as well. So all of them, Halcyon and Gryphon and herself, could watch the hard, wet glide of him pushing into her and coming back out, hear the wet, sucking sound they made as his cock entered and exited, feel the angled tension of him rub and pull against her tight sheath.

  “Move, Gryphon. Now,” she gasped, quivering, and felt him take over the movement, the rhythm, driving harder, faster, into her. She closed her eyes, remembering the visual image coupled with the physical sensation of his glistening cock disappearing into her, both of their bodies lit, shining. . . Sweet Goddess, indeed. She wasn’t going to last long.

  “Halcyon . . . please,” she cried, wanting both of them in her when she went. “Join us.”

  He moved so fast she didn’t see him, one moment on his knees against the headboard, the next moment standing there beside them.

  “Open your mouth,” Halcyon said harshly, his hands fisting in her hair.

  Mona Lisa parted her lips and he pushed his way in. Sweet bliss.

  She licked, sucked hungrily as Halcyon pumped in and out of her mouth, humming blissfully at the taste and feel of both of them within her.

  Halcyon pulled out and was suddenly behind her, pushing her gently forward, down over Gryphon’s chest. Gryphon lifted his head and took her mouth in a hot, raw kiss as she felt the tip of Halcyon’s cock push into her from behind.

  Gryphon’s tongue speared into her mouth at the same time Halcyon entered her anus, and then they were both fucking her in slow, gentle push-pull rhythm, perfectly coordinated, in and out. In and out.

  Mona Lisa felt Halcyon’s phantom hands caress her breast, squeeze her nipples, stroke with devilish lightness over the nub between her wet, parted folds. Clever, invisible fingers tugging, pulling, stroking, and caressing her, feeling as real as the two hard cocks surging into her like dueling swords, rubbing alongside each other separated only by a thin layer of tissued membrane.

  They increased their speed, their harmonized tempo, and everything built and tightened and tensed within her.

  Mona Lisa broke their kiss as she felt Gryphon’s teeth lengthen and sharpen, knew with a thrill the bloodlust he was feeling, felt a surprisingly corresponding need to b
e marked and pierced by those very teeth—something she had missed more than she knew.

  Gryphon’s rhythm suddenly faltered.

  “No, it’s okay. I want it,” she said in hasty reassurance, pulling his mouth to her breast, reaching back with her other hand to guide Halcyon’s head to her neck. “Bite me, both of you. Drink my blood.”

  They didn’t wait for a second invitation. Two sets of fangs pierced her.

  They drank down her blood and thrust themselves inside her, driving themselves so deep and full within her. That the pleasure culminated and exploded in a visually blinding brilliant pulse of light. She convulsed. Felt the milking clench of her sheath and tightening of her sphincter set off their own spasming release.

  “God,” Mona Lisa gasped as she felt the withdrawal of their fangs, leaving behind a pleasant throbbing ache on her breast and neck. She twitched as she felt the twin laving of tongues over the puncture wounds, enhancing the tremors still running through her.

  A heavy shiver as she felt Halcyon pull out of her. Another shudder as he lifted her off Gryphon and lay her down on the bed between them.

  Three-way cuddling, Mona Lisa found, was nice.

  Very, incredibly nice indeed.

  TWENTY-TWO

  THE DAY OUR world irrevocably changed began as a typical evening, breaking fast together with a main meal and then dispersing to our varied duties and chores, which for me was my two-hour practice session with the Morells.

  Thaddeus was the one who brought it to our attention when we returned back to the house. “Hey, guys,” Thaddeus called out from the living room. “Come here. You have to see this.”

  I stepped inside to see my brother glued to the television. The scene playing on it was indeed riveting: a news report of a tall apartment complex going up in flames. The caption Breaking News flashed along the bottom of the screen.

  “It looks like a fire,” I said, wondering what all the fuss was. “Is it local?”

  “No. In Washington, DC, in one of the slum neighborhoods,” Thaddeus said, raptly watching the news. “Wait, this is what I wanted you to see.”

  And the reason for his interest suddenly became clear as a man came crashing through a window near the top floor. No, not a man, I realized as wings spread out in magnificent display. A Monère. Caught on film!

  His arms—only his arms—were shifted into feathered wings. Wings that were burning, caught on fire. Clinging to the male was a teenage girl wearing pajamas, coughing but otherwise seeming unharmed.

  The reporter gave a startled cry. “What in the world . . . are you getting this?”

  The cameraman’s excited affirmative was heard.

  They flew for a moment, gracefully suspended in the air, an incredibly dramatic picture as the flames spread rapidly to the Monère’s shirt, burning along his back, highlighting the man, his beating wings sharply outlined against the darkening night sky.

  You could hear a faint cry as the flames reached his neck, and the girl let go, dropping away from him, falling, plummeting, her sleeves caught on fire.

  There were gasps, cries of dismay from the news crew, from the crowd below. Then even more startled cries as the winged man rushed down after her in a hard swoop. The girl plummeted a sickening distance before the male caught her, shifting his wings in midflight back to arms. Burning feathers disappeared and became seared skin, his clothes licked bright with orange flames. Holding her tight against him, they dropped in freefall the last fifty feet.

  He hit the ground hard, feetfirst, and rolled with his precious burden, taking the heavy brunt of the fall. Both of them were immediately sprayed with fire extinguishers by the waiting firemen before they even came to a stop. The footage ended with the male lifting the girl and staggering to his feet. He managed a few lurching steps before collapsing to his knees and slumping over the girl. The footage stopped there and switched back to the news anchor at the studio.

  Thaddeus hit the mute button and flipped to other channels. All of them were running the same film segment. One channel had even clearer footage, a close-in zoom shot after the male burst out the window and first spread his wings. They froze it there, showing the burning feathers in clear, undeniable detail.

  “I don’t know how long they’ve been running this. I’ve just been watching the last ten minutes.” Thaddeus turned to me. “Is it bad?”

  “Yes,” I said, dumbstruck. “It’s awful. They have a zoom shot of him!” I turned to Nolan, the oldest Monère in the room. “Has anything like this ever happened before?”

  Nolan shook his head. “We’ve never been caught on film like this before.”

  “What are the reporters saying?” Quentin asked Thaddeus.

  “Everything but the truth. No mention of Monères so far.” Thaddeus rubbed his face. “Some are calling it a hoax, claiming what we saw was just clever film editing and special effects. Although with three different news stations showing different live recordings, not much credence is being given to that. The most popular assumption is that he strapped winglike contraptions on his arms and that they burned off.” An ironic smile crossed Thaddeus’s face. “One station is actually calling him an angel.”

  Dante snorted. “An angel?”

  “Well, you have to admit, he sort of does look like one,” Thaddeus said, shrugging. “A man with wings, flying. Hey, don’t look at me like that; I’m just reporting back what I heard. But even without all that real-wings-versus-fake-wings argument going on, there’s no getting around the fact that this guy jumped out of the nineteenth floor of a twenty-story burning apartment building and half flew, half fell down over two hundred feet without going splat. Hell, he was even able to stand up and walk afterward! Not something most humans can do. They’re calling him a hero, whoever-whatever he is. So far, no one’s come up with an identity for him or the girl.”

  “Do we know who they are?” I wondered.

  “Luckily not our problem, though High Court must be going crazy,” Nolan said. “Though I wonder if they even know this is being played on television yet.”

  I flipped open my cell phone, something my men had forced on me shortly after I became Queen, and now was grateful to have. “I’ll give them a call.”

  I indentified myself to the person answering and asked, “Has the Queen Mother seen the news playing on TV?”

  “Oh, yes, milady,” the man said with feeling. “We’ve most definitely seen it.”

  “Good, just wanted to make sure she knew about it.”

  “Wait, please,” he said before I could hang up. “The Queen Mother wishes to speak to you.” He pronounced her title with careful reverence, as well he should for the sovereign of the Monère people here in the United States.

  The Queen Mother’s voice came on the line. “Mona Lisa, I was just about to call you myself. Have you seen the news?”

  “Yes, I just saw it.”

  “Are you able to speak privately where no one can hear you?”

  I looked at the others, all of them listening in on the conversation. “Uh . . .” Dante saved the day by removing the gold chain that hung around his neck, and holding it out to me. At the end of the chain hung a small gray stone the size of a robin’s egg: the privacy charm I’d seen him use in the past. “. . . not yet. Give me a second.”

  “You can use my study,” Aquila offered. He had drifted in, along with Rosemary, drawn by the commotion.

  Dante and I hastened down the hallway to the study. Dante slipped his necklace over my head as soon as I sat down behind the desk, and activated the privacy charm with a small pulse of power. A ring of energy expanded, encircling us.

  “Touch it with a small thrum of power to deactivate it,” Dante instructed, and stepped out of the invisible circle, leaving only the sound of my own breath and heartbeat in that cone of silence. I couldn’t hear anyone else, nor could they hear me.

  “All right, I’ve got privacy now,” I said, wondering what she had to say to me that could be so important in the midst of what ha
d to be a critical situation.

  “I’ve spoken to Halcyon. He’s told me that you seem to be stable now,” the Queen Mother said.

  I glanced at the phone, then put it back to my ear. Whatever I’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this chatty comment. “Yeah, it’s been quiet. No one snatching me away or anything.”

  She gave a soft snort. “Yes. It’s seems to have been one crisis after another for you ever since you’ve taken up the mantle of Queen. But what I meant was the demon blood you ingested secondhand through Mona Louisa. You no longer seem to be becoming Damanôen.”

  “Oh, that,” I said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “I, ah, didn’t realize Halcyon had made you aware of that.”

  “Do you know how old I am, my dear?”

  My brows scrunched together. Instead of saying, What the hell does that have to do with what’s going on? I answered politely, “No, Queen Mother. I have no idea how old you are. No one does, was my impression.”

  “I am seven hundred and thirteen years old.”

  “Oh.” I know, pretty lame, but what was I supposed to say? “I thought Monères only had a three-hundred-year life span.”

  “They do. Did you know that our original Monère society was clan based?” the Queen Mother continued. “Wolf clan, dragon, phoenix, tiger, and others, all maintaining separate courts based around their pure-blood clans and Queens.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “A little over six hundred and fifty years ago, the clans unfortunately began to destabilize as fewer and fewer children were born among these separate groups. The few offspring who came were from those who had chosen a mate outside their own clan lineage, as Blaec did, Halcyon’s father, when he married a woman from the phoenix clan, not his own dragon clan. We were a dying people, not only growing infertile but also killing off our numbers with a growing number of skirmishes and wars between clans. It was during this critical period in our history, as the old ways were falling apart and our people were in grave danger of dying out through their own foolish actions, that Blaec, the new young Demon Ruler of Hell, approached a young Queen and made a pact with her. He opened a vein in my arm and mixed one drop of his demon dead blood with my own.”