So I was going to go out on a limb and trust him too.
If he said someone was watching me, I had to assume someone was. Getting to the library, to a place with people, seemed like the smartest thing to do. Beside the fact that the librarian must be getting pissed about my little break before seeing her. So, I hightail it to the library, searching but seeing no one behind me.
I climb the stone steps of the big building and close the door quickly behind me. Instantly, I’m swallowed by silence. I pause in the doorway, looking at row after row of silent shelves, breathing in the musty scent of old books, and trying not to find the dim, flickering lights eerie. A part of me wants to turn around and go right outside. Had I thought the library would seem safer? Somehow, without the sounds of natural life outside, I felt even more uneasy.
Still, I walk slowly across the tiled floor, my boots sounding unnervingly loud in the silence. I come to a staircase. One way leads down. One way leads up. Which way is the librarian?
“Kiera?”
I spin around, instantly in a half-crouch, a hand on the hilt of one of my axes.
Behind me, a male nephilim stands. His golden hair has been cut short. His skin is a shocking milk-white, and his eyes are a deep brown. “Kiera, I’ve been waiting for you.”
It’s strange how fast I feel my body relax. I’d heard tales of how they could convince people to do what they wanted, how people felt compelled to obey them, but I’d never actually experienced it myself. Thoughts of the librarian and the cat’s warning fade away, and there’s only him and I.
“It’s okay,” he says, “you’re safe with me. I’m the librarian’s assistant. She sent me to find you.”
My hand drops to my side and I rise. I try to speak, but I can’t seem to think of anything to say.
“This way,” he tells me, flashing his dimples.
I follow the glowing being down one set of stairs and then another. Somewhere in the back of my mind I’m aware that the temperature drops around me. A part of me knows that the lighting seems to grow even darker, and that that deep sense of silence seems to only grow deeper.
But I don’t care. I follow him. This angel. Because I would follow him anywhere.
“This way,” he calls behind him, but his long legs leave me behind.
I sprint to keep up, but he disappears from view behind a row of shelves.
Rushing to the row, I turn and stop short. Four male angels stand at the back of the dead end, the man who led me here among them. There’s a sense of alarm ringing somewhere in my mind, but I remain where I am, staring at their brilliance.
“Kiera, King Maxen has grown impatient with you.”
I stare, still somehow unable to speak.
“He asked us to bring you to him. To lead his wife to freedom. His men wait for you just beyond the gates. When they see us, they’ll attack the guards, and you’ll be free.”
I try to push past the cloud that seems to hang over my mind. “I don’t…I don’t want…”
“You want freedom, right?” the blond asks me, drawing closer.
For the first time, I see the hilt of the sword at his back, and then I see the others. It means something to me, but I’m not sure what.
I stare at the angels. Had they asked me a question?
One of the angels lifts a grate in the floor, then they all look at me. The blond smiles again. “Come on, Kiera, we’ll bring you to freedom.”
I move forward.
Someone leaps out in front of me.
It takes too long for me to realize it’s Emory. Breathing hard. His sword held out before him.
“Get out of here, Kiera,” he orders.
The anger is his voice bothers me, although I can’t quite be sure why.
I hear the blond angel laugh. “Berserker, this is a fool’s errand. There are four of us and only one of you. This fight will be over before it starts.”
“Kiera, run!”
I don’t move. Instead, I shake my head. I close my eyes. In my thoughts, a calming melody seems to play, but Emory is disturbing the melody. Emory is making the world’s colors brighter.
“Come on,” the nephilim says, and now there’s a purr in his words. “Put down your sword.”
“Fuck off!” Emory shouts.
Another angel whispers, “Why isn’t it working on him?”
“You aren’t the first winged assholes I’ve fought,” Emory hisses.
Fought? He’s fighting them? Why?
“Come on, Kiera. Shake it off! It’s just the damn angel spell!”
I swear I come crashing out of their spell, gasping for breath and shaking. They bespelled me? They were going to take me to Maxen? Oh, fuck no…
Reaching for the axes at my back, I slowly draw them from their sheaths. Moving closer, I come to stand at Emory’s side.
“That was a mistake, flying rats,” I growl.
The blond lifts an arrogant brow, and then they draw their swords from their sheaths.
We leap into battle like we’ve fought together a thousand times. Swords connect with my axes. Swords meet Emory’s. But the primpy angels don’t have a clue how to fight with our kind. They don’t expect it when I kick one of them in the junk and knock his sword out of his hand. They don’t expect it when I catch one sword with my axe and use the other one to lightly cut the back of a knee.
They might say our kind doesn’t fight with honor. I say, we fight to win.
Within minutes, the angels are on their knees.
I hold an axe beneath the throat of two angels. Emory has his hovering in front of the blond, while the fourth lies out cold on the ground.
“Mercy,” the blond begs.
I see fire in Emory’s eyes as he draws his blade back to strike.
“Stop,” I say.
Emory hesitates.
“They asked for mercy,” I tell him, frowning.
We might fight to win, but we weren’t the brutes that the other races thought. Honor was built into us from a young age. And I couldn’t see anything honorable about killing people who have already surrendered.
He doesn’t look at me as he answers. “They can’t have mercy, Kiera. If they’re working with my brother, this doesn’t end until they’re dead.”
“No,” the blond begs, no longer bothering with his lulling voice. “You let us walk away, and you have our word that we won’t attack again. Please, there…there are so few of our kind.”
“As there should be,” Emory growls.
Part of me understands that what Emory says makes sense. Leaving potential enemies alive, especially ones as dangerous as the Nephilim, isn’t logical. But I couldn’t live with myself if I killed them in cold blood, and I needed to see exactly what Emory was capable of.
“I want your word,” I snap.
“You have it,” the angels all murmur at once.
I lower my axes.
“Kiera, no. You don’t understand my brother! You don’t understand the people who work for him!”
“It’s over,” I say, my gaze locking with his, daring him to defy me.
“No.”
I sheath one of my axes and touch Emory’s arm. “It’s over.”
For a minute, he seems to swell. And for the first time, I realize just how close he is to losing control. His muscles ripple beneath his skin.
Berserkers aren’t exactly subtle when they’re about to lose control during a fight. It surprises me that Emory can hide his bloodlust beneath an expressionless mask so easily. It’s impressive… and worrisome.
Is he really just Maxen’s brainwashed soldier? I couldn’t believe that.
“Emory. For me…”
I’m surprised how quickly his blade moves from the angel’s throat. “If I see any of you again, you’re dead.”
They scramble away, taking the unconscious body of the fourth angel with them, as if Emory might change his mind at any second and kill them right there. Which given the way he watches them, isn’t out of the realm of possibili
ties.
I sheath my other axe and Emory slides his sword back onto his back. When he whirls toward me, complicated emotions flash across his face so fast that I can’t follow them. “That was a mistake. They’re not going to stop.”
“I’m not killing men on their knees.”
He swears and runs the back of his fingers along his beard, his jaw tense. “If you want to survive against Maxen, every fucking moral code, every fucking line you’ve learned not to cross, it all needs to be forgotten.”
“Is that what you did?” I ask, half an accusation, half curious.
He lowers his gaze. “I did whatever I had to. And you need to learn to do the same, or you’ll be his.”
For some reason, anger rises inside of me. “You’re not that guy, Emory!”
No, he wasn’t. He wasn’t some beaten-down man who served a master like a broken dog.
He draws back from me. “I am who I am.”
I grab him by the shirt and drag him closer. His deep blue eyes meet mine, and there’s surprise and longing in his gaze.
“You are Emory of the Winter Berserkers.” He tries to draw back from me, shaking his head, but I yank him closer. “You’re Emory of the Winter Berserkers. You’re stronger than every man there. You’re taller than any man there. But even as a boy, you liked the sunrise. You liked cold nights, and you thought bear tracks meant our ancestors were still watching over us.”
His head falls. “Kiera. That side of myself…it’s not there anymore. I’m not Emory, the boy you knew. I’m not Emory, a man who’s grown into anyone of worth. I’m just…nothing anymore.”
“Fuck that!”
I slam him back against the books, and he nearly loses his footing. “Kiera!”
And then I’m on him. I crush those soft lips of his under mine, and he returns my kiss with vigor. I press against him, and the second I do, I feel him harden.
He breaks our kiss, his gaze burning into mine. “We can’t.”
“Stop me,” I say, then grab him by his hair, hard, and kiss him again.
His hands slide up and down the sides of my body, like he doesn’t have a clue what to do, and I press my tongue into his mouth. His tongue tangles with my own, and something changes about our kiss.
I didn’t know what I was doing. Punishing him for not being the man I thought he was? Proving that he wasn’t the man he thought he was? Hell, maybe this had started out that way, but all of that had faded away. Now it was just Emory and I, wanting to ease the tension that’s been building between us from the first moment we saw each other.
I know the moment he snaps. He shudders and turns us, pressing me against the bookshelf. My hand drops from his hair, and he continues to kiss me as if his life depends on it. One of his hands begins to work the button on my pants.
We’re desperate as we tear off each other’s pants, and my legs wrap around his back as he grabs my ass. Our kiss deepens. I rub against his length, begging him to plunge inside of me. But for a second he just kisses me, just presses against me, and my thoughts spin into nothingness. There’s just a deep sense of pleasure, of getting what I need.
And then his hands tighten on my hips, and he adjusts me.
The head of his cock presses into my channel, and I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders as he slides his massive length inside of me. For a minute, I can’t seem to breathe. I almost tell him to stop. That he’s too damned big for my body.
But then he reaches his hilt, and I break our kiss, holding myself still. And that tight feeling… it fades away until it feels so damn good. Not just having him inside of me. But knowing it’s Emory inside of me.
He looks at me, and I catch his gaze. And for the first time, I realize just how messed up things were between us. Because even though he’s looked at me a thousand times since he got here, I don’t think he really saw me…or let me see him the way he does now.
He holds my gaze as he draws out of me and then plunges back in. We both cry out, and then he begins to fuck me. Slowly at first. Then faster and faster.
And all along, we look at each. Our eyes see into each other in a way that feels more intimate than fucking. It’s a game of chicken. A game that neither of us wants to lose.
I can hear the sounds of my body. I can hear how wet I am. And Emory’s unique scent seems to wrap all around me, that vanilla and caramel richness that I want to rub all over my skin. And even though he thinks he’s so different from when we were little, I’m pretty damned sure he smells the way he did when we were young.
I want to tell him, but the words catch in my throat.
He takes me harder and harder, and I use my leverage against the shelf to meet each of his thrusts with my own. He makes a strangled sound and goes wild. I feel the moment his inner beast rises to the surface because that big dick of his gets bigger. My body stretches around him, and he locks into me, unable to leave until we’re both done.
And god damn it, I love the way berserkers fuck. But with Emory? It’s even better.
My eyes roll back in my head. I’m barely clinging onto him as he pounds into me harder and harder, his strength humming all around me. Suddenly, my inner muscles squeeze him, and my nerves scream, and then I’m orgasming.
Emory comes as I orgasm, his hot seed spilling into me as he shouts in pleasure.
For several long minutes, we keep going. A berserker moment of frenzy. A moment that can only happen between two of our kind. His cock spills his seed twice. More orgasms roll through me, over and over again, until every muscle in my body is little more than jello.
And then he crumbles to his knees, taking me with him.
He stays that way for a long time, capturing me between the books and his huge body.
At last, he starts to speak, his voice low and confused. “Kiera…we shouldn’t…we shouldn’t have…”
I bite his ear, still trying to catch my breath. “I think you meant…we should have done this sooner.”
He looks at me, and his eyes gentle.
I stiffen. Something in his gaze is overwhelming. Like he’s about to say something neither of us can take back. And as much as I want to hear it, I’m not sure I’m ready. But I’m also not sure I can stop him.
Behind us, someone clears her throat.
We both jerk toward the sound.
A woman stands at the end of the shelves, her arms crossed over her chest. She’s petite, probably shorter than me, and that’s saying something. Her hair is long and dark, silky smooth as it flows over her shoulders, and her expression is harsh.
“Why are two students fucking in the ancient magic section of the library? Don’t you know fucking is for the psychology section? And why the hell is their blood on my floor?”
“Uh…” I have no idea what to tell her.
She lifts a brow and glances at the berserker brand on my arm. “I’m guessing you’re Kiera, the female berserker?”
I nod.
“Get dressed and meet me in my office upstairs. Now!” Spinning on her heels, she marches away.
Emory draws slowly back from me, and we dress quickly. When we’re done, I swear Emory plans to just walk away. And for some reason, that pisses me off.
“Were you following me before?”
He stops.
“You were. Why?”
“I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”
“I’d be safer with you at my side, not hiding in the shadows behind me.”
Emory slowly looks back at me, and a coolness has come over his face. “That’s all I can give you. Now, come on, I’ll show you her office.”
He doesn’t look back to see if I follow. He just walks away.
The tiny office is just a desk with a computer on it, a phone, and bookshelves squeezed in around us. When we enter, the librarian gives Emory a dirty look, but then directs her attention to me.
“You may call your family.”
I stiffen. “I thought phone calls weren’t allowed?”
She raises a brow.
“You really want to question this?”
I shake my head, my pulse racing.
To my surprise, she leaves the room, closing the door behind us. Going around her desk, I sit in her seat and draw the phone closer. Staring at the handle, I don’t know why I hesitate. I guess part of me fears that the second I hear my parent’s voices, I might just lose it.
Still, they deserve to know I’m safe.
They deserve more than that.
“Careful,” Emory says. “Maxen will have tried to get to your family. You might not like what you hear from them.”
My eyes narrow. “You might have forgotten, Emory, but no one can break a Winter Berserker.”
He looks like he might argue, but I start to dial.
The phone rings. Once. Twice. Three times. And with each ring, my heart beats faster. What if they don’t pick up? What if--?
“Hello?” Mother’s voice comes over the line, and I swear it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
“Mom?”
“Kiera.” There’s shock in her voice.
“I’m here.”
I hear her shouting for my father and brothers, then, “You don’t know how worried we’ve been. You don’t know how scared we were when we heard—“
“Kiera!” Suddenly, my father and brothers are talking at once, launching questions at me, telling me how much they’ve missed me. I press my knuckles to my mouth and try to quiet my sobs as tears run down my face.
Emory shifts closer, but he doesn’t touch me.
“Quiet! Quiet, everyone!” my mom says. “Let her talk.”
And then they’re silent.
I rub the tears from my face and take a deep breath, not wanting my family to know just how hard it’s been to be away from them. “The vampires killed Lucy, and I went berserk. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know I could. And then Emory—“
“Emory? Emory?” I hear my oldest brother ask, in shock.
I look at the big berserker, but his face gives nothing away. “Yeah, he was there. He tried to get me out of the club before they could get me, but they caught us both. And then we were at the reform school, and now Maxen is sending his thugs to try to get to me.”
My words suddenly stop. What else should I say?
“Listen.” This time it’s my father’s voice. “Maxen is dangerous. More dangerous than you can ever imagine. He’s already…called us. But don’t worry about us, there’s nothing that bastard can do to us. But you have to stay safe. You can’t marry him.”
Untamed- House of Berserkers Page 15
