by P. Jameson
A world without Bastian. She was going to make it so.
Then she would be truly liberated. Living or dead, it didn’t matter, she’d be free. And maybe she’d never felt that kind of freedom. Not even as a child, when she was innocent.
The sound of pages rustling didn’t make her eyes open. She ignored it all, wanting to hold onto the feeling as long as she could.
Skittles’s dark voice broke the sanctity, but the way it rippled along nerves… she didn’t mind it. She shivered as his words filled the space between them.
“You’re a ghost in my heart, not yet manifested. Or perhaps already come and gone. Only the wind knows. Only the wind blows into my lungs when I dream of you, filling me with nothing and everything… and then nothing again. I am wounded with just this thought: where are you, ghost love? Where are you?”
Nyla’s breath came faster as his words mixed sweetly with the silence to make a new kind of magic. Had she ever heard anything more beautiful than his voice reading about a lost love? No. Not that she could remember.
“You’re a villain in my mind, not altogether despised. Or perhaps not at all. Only the future knows. Only the future which lies before me, wavering in a breath as I wonder how I’ll love you, hate you… love you. And then I know: I’ll love you as a stalker loves its prey, as the heart loves sin. Where are you, villain love? Where are you?”
Villain love. Was there a better way to describe what was happening between them? That’s what he felt like to her. Someone stealing into her heart without her permission, making her feel things she didn’t want to feel. He’d asked her to believe in better things. What if she couldn’t?
She forced her eyes open to watch him read the rest. He wore his glasses and he was still shirtless. His colorful chest, muted in the dimmer light, flexed with each heavy breath as he recited the next verse.
“You’re found in my soul, not fully known. Or perhaps I’ve understood you all along. Only the heart knows. Only my heart knows the truth that I hold strong to within, that I will find you. I will find you in the dark and hold you close until all our demons are united as one… and we are together free. I will find you, darkest love. I will find you.”
His gaze flicked to her, and not even the dim candlelight could keep her from noticing the flames dancing in his irises. Evidence of his Firecat, she realized with a gasp.
“You picked my favorite book, Nyla,” he said darkly. He looked wicked, but she wasn’t afraid.
She didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Didn’t dare.
He looked away, turning the page, read the next poem. “How will I prove myself to you, you asked me in the dark. My answer is this: I will take you when I’m angry, when I need to, when I don’t. I will take you when we’re happy, when you smile, when you won’t. I will take you in the night, away from your bad dreams. I will take you in the morning, as you wake from your sleep.”
This new poem was turning his tone into that sexy rumble she’d experienced upon waking. The one that made her squirm with desire, and she could feel it happening all over again. It didn’t help that the verse was so obviously talking about making love.
Making love.
She’d never made love, she wouldn’t start now. No matter how many sweetly worded poems he read her while sitting shirtless and sexy and just out of reach.
Nyla pressed her lips together to hold back the moan that wanted to escape. And damn if her hands didn’t begin to roam beneath the bubbles. Why did he do this to her? Bring out this buried sexuality that mixed so well with her anger. And how did he?
“I will take you hard, and then soft. Take you long and quick. Make it hurt, then ease the sting. I will take you however you come… and come, you will. On my fingers. On my tongue. On my…”
Her hand seemed to have a mind of its own. One that was connected to every word the Firecat uttered, sliding up one thigh until it settled low on her belly, fingers just inches from the part of her she’d closed off for so long.
“I’ll taste you everywhere, and anywhere…”
Lower, until she was at the cleft of her sex, clit throbbing for a touch.
“…because you’re mine to taste.”
Finger circling, circling but never making contact.
“My name will be your prayer.”
She pressed her lips tightly, circling closer to her aching center. How she wanted to say his name right now.
“Your body will be my temple.”
His. Temple. Goddamn it.
“And the stained-glass window will tell our story.”
Her touch finally landed where she needed it most and she sucked in a hard breath at the pleasure.
The sound of the book slamming shut didn’t distract her, and she didn’t stop moving over her clit as she met Skittles’s hot gaze across the room.
“Are you touching yourself?” he growled.
Was it any of his business?
Yes. God, yes it was. Because he was doing this to her. Twisting her fury into something sexual. Taming her like a wounded animal until she lost sense. And she… she didn’t hate him for it.
“Yes,” she gasped, her own answer shocking her.
He tossed the book away and yanked his glasses from his face in one move. Then he was beside the tub so fast she let off a surprised squeak. His expression was fierce and determined as he stared into the water. As if he could see what was below it just from sheer will. His fingers turned white where he gripped the edge, and his breath chuffed like an angry bull’s.
Was she scared? No.
She wanted him angry. She wanted him just like the poem said. She wanted him owning her, and that realization was frightening considering she’d been a captive for so long.
But with him, it was different.
He was different.
“Let me touch,” he demanded.
She couldn’t answer. What if she did? What if she let him, and it fucked up everything?
He swallowed, the tattoo below his throat bobbing with the action, and made a different request. “Let me see.”
But still, she couldn’t agree. She couldn’t do anything except cup her sex below the water, grinding the heel of her palm over her clit for relief.
A strange sound rumbled form his throat, like a purr. God, was the Firecat purring at her? The idea ramped up her need to nuclear levels.
“I can make you feel so fucking good,” he promised, his eyes flickering with desire so powerful it felt like a finger brushing along her skin.
“I know,” she finally admitted, the words tearing from her throat. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
This pulled his eyes away from the water to meet her gaze, and his expression softened.
“Never be afraid of what’s happening between us, mate. I won’t let anything hurt you.” He lifted his hand to tenderly touch her face. “Do you understand how long I’ve waited for you?”
She recalled the calendar on the wall. “Ninety-one days.”
Skittles shook his head, his gaze roaming all over her face before meeting her eyes again. “My whole life, Nyla. Been waiting my whole fucked-up life for you. I’ll never let anything hurt you again. Not even myself.”
The mere idea that what he said could be true drove shivers down her spine. She prided herself in not needing anyone to protect her, but she had needed him. There was no denying it. She’d be dead if not for this man. And maybe that made her angry. But some small part of her that she hadn’t let out in too long loved the idea of being cared for. Being taken care of. Being important to someone, not for what she could do for them, but just because.
Had anyone really done that for her ever? Not even Gran had done a good job of it, though she’d tried her best.
Nyla closed her eyes to him, pushing her head back against the tub, shaking with need, even if she wished she wasn’t. “Why do you even care?” she whispered, knowing there wasn’t an answer he could give her that would be good enough.
His patient thumb brushed another t
rail over her cheek, stopping to press at the corner of her mouth.
“Because,” he said. “You’re the only beautiful piece in my life. Everything else is broken and empty, and I want to keep you.” His voice went weak at the end, and she squeezed her eyes to keep from opening them and seeing his expression. “I desperately want to keep you. I hope that one day you will care for me too because that would be… it would be...” He didn’t finish his thought. Clearing his throat hard, he continued, “But even if you can’t, or won’t, it will be enough to know that I made you safe and eased you when you needed it most. So I will keep trying. And I will keep caring, even if you don’t understand it.”
There were tears behind her eyelids that he could never see. She couldn’t let him know how his small, unwavering declarations made her want to melt away until she was no longer herself. No longer hard and calculating. Until she was just… part of him. Something new, mingled with something great.
“Let. Me. Touch,” he whispered, and this time, she could feel his breath skate along the curve of her neck and shoulder. His voice… his silky sexy voice… zinged sensation to her core and she moaned, forgetting to strangle it back. She squeezed her thighs together, aching for something more when his soft kiss landed on her temple.
So gentle.
But he was a beast. He was ferocious. How was it possible for him to be so fucking tender with her?
And why the hell did she keep letting him?
Tenderness was a falsity. It wasn’t logical.
Love is pain. The book itself, his favorite book, said so.
Don’t let him touch you like this.
But she didn’t listen to the warning.
When his fingers grazed across her jaw and down her neck, she didn’t stop him. Featherlight, his touch dipped below the water, following her sternum and making her very aware of how heavy she was breathing. His big palm cupped one breast, caressing the already hard and aching nipple.
And she still didn’t stop him.
“Your skin is beautiful,” he murmured roughly. “So beautiful to me. I’ve wanted it beneath my fingertips for so long. I want—” He cut off the rest with a snap of his jaw, leaving her curious. With a hard exhale he pressed his forehead to her temple. “Slow down, slow down…” he barely breathed, and somehow, she knew those words weren’t for her.
With a soft growl, he pinched the bud lightly before moving to the other breast.
And she still didn’t stop him.
She wasn’t going to.
She was going to regret it later, but she was definitely…
His touch eased down her belly, slow as melting chocolate.
… most definitely not stopping him.
Chapter Sixteen
Slow down. Don’t say too much. Don’t scare her with your fucking feelings.
Shit.
Nyla had him all messed up. Aching below the belt, harder than he’d ever been. Aching in the center of his chest. Aching behind his ears and in his throat from holding back all the things he wanted to say. All the promises he wanted to make.
If his words could be taken as absolute truth, he would give her all of them and make her believe that she was his only priority from here on out. No one mattered more. Not the clan, not the past. She was his queen, to have and keep forever. To guard with his life. To pleasure and make happy.
He’d tell her all that… and it would make a difference. It would mean something to her.
But she was like a brand new kitten. Easily spooked. But only when it came to this, intimacy. Otherwise she was a fireball.
She didn’t yet want anything from him, not even physical relief. He’d had to ply his way in. And it made everything feel off kilter. He was ready to give her every fucking thing. His broken heart on a platter, as is, in the hopes that she’d know what to do with it. And he was willing to take hers, carefully, into his hands and try to mend it the best he could.
But she wasn’t ready.
She wasn’t ready.
So he had to slow down. Or he’d ruin it all.
Enjoy this, he chided. Explore your mate. Make her purr. The feelings can wait.
Skittles swallowed down his emotions again. Like he’d done from his youngest days. Like he had when the Dolls were freed, leaving Nyla behind. Like he did when he lost his shit and shifted into the burning werecat.
Shove it all down.
Way the fuck down, because he wasn’t going to risk the beginnings of their bond by telling her before she was ready.
Let it come as it is, his animal purred, and again, he wondered if he could trust it.
But there were no warning bells going off. Nothing to make him doubt the beast. And he was becoming more familiar with the way it reacted. The beast was harsh, reminding him of his panther. But it was also good. Its intentions were good, and that made all the difference.
Skittles watched his girl.
The hard bud of her nipple against his palm made his mouth water for a taste and his dick throb for the squeeze of her slit. But there’d be none of that right now. He was on a mission to make her come. She was already so close. He could tell by the way she writhed and moaned. The bathwater masked the scent of her arousal, and for that, he was grateful. Otherwise he would’ve already lost his damn mind wanting inside her.
Skittles watched her carefully as he slid his hand lower and lower, easing his way toward her pussy. Her eyes stayed closed, her throat humming with sounds she was trying to restrain.
He wound his other hand behind her head, taking her by the nape of the neck and applying pressure. Mine. He couldn’t say it yet, at least not the way he wanted to, but he would ease his claiming instinct like this, holding her steady for what he was about to do to her below.
His hand met Nyla’s where she touched herself and he curled his fingers through hers, desperate to touch the treasure beneath. But with a strangled gasp, she linked her fingers with his, preventing him from moving forward. He could sense her fear, but there was more.
Excitement.
And that was all he needed to push her farther.
Lowering his mouth to her ear, he snarled, “Let me in, female.”
“I… I don’t need you,” she hissed, but it was tinged with uncertainty. She didn’t want to need him, but she did.
“Maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe I need you.”
She went still, eyes still closed. “H-how?”
“It’s a male’s purpose to pleasure his mate. I need to satisfy you. And you need to let me before we both lose our minds.”
He applied pressure to her neck, just enough to soften her, and felt the tension bleed away.
“What will it mean?” Her grip on his fingers was already loosening.
“It will mean you feel good. And it’ll mean I did something right.”
With a helpless groan, she let go of his fingers and slipped loose of his hand. Skittles eased between her legs, settling his palm over the juncture of her thighs and sliding one finger between her folds. Nyla arched her back in response, her mouth coming open on a silent gasp. She was slick with arousal, and the feel of her made him groan.
He wanted to taste. Wanted it bad.
But this wasn’t about him.
Soon, his animal soothed. Soon mate will be yours to taste and sate.
He had to trust the beast, because anything else wasn’t acceptable.
Nyla’s hand came out of the water, frantically wrapping around the back of his neck to pull him down to her. But she didn’t kiss him again. She didn’t open her eyes. She just pressed her forehead to his, panting through the pleasure.
Perfect mate. Responding to his efforts so sweetly. More proof they were made for each other.
“Feel me,” he whispered. “The way I touch you. It’s good.”
“Yes,” she shook out.
“It will always be good. It will never feel wrong between us, understand?”
She nodded against his forehead, sucking in a hard breath.
/> Below the water, he circled her clit, over and over, driving her pleasure and ignoring the way his cock pounded behind his zipper with every heartbeat. Her nails bit into his neck, reminding him that one day soon, he would make her so crazy with lust that she’d drag them down his back to mark him up.
He looked forward to that day.
“Come for me, Nyla. Let go, and come.”
Nyla whimpered, opening her legs wider beneath the water. Thumb on her clit, he pushed one finger inside her tight opening, going weak when he felt the way she enveloped him.
“Fuck.” The word left his lips on a snarl. His animal was close. Too close. But he knew it wouldn’t hurt Nyla. Maybe it needed to burn, but it would never burn her.
The reassurance was everything.
“Female,” he ground out. “Give me this.”
He thrusted harder, thumb still working her nub while she arched her back, tits coming out of the water with her carelessness. God, she was beautiful. Broken as she still was, he’d never seen a more beautiful female.
Thank you.
He didn’t know who to thank, so he just let it fly into the universe.
With a shattering cry that he’d savor for the rest of his life, her orgasm rattled through her body, sloshing water everywhere. And the way she clung to him… like he was her lifeline. It would only last moments, he knew. Instinct told him his mate wouldn’t accept this the way he wished she would. But that didn’t keep him from soaking up every second of her submission to him.
Eventually, she settled, closing her legs around his hand, breaths and whimpers slowing. Her hand left his neck and joined the other one to cover her face as she slid further under the water.
Skittles pulled his fingers free, bringing them to his lips and licking off the hints of her. She tasted fucking heavenly, even mixed with the soapy water. Next time, he would get his taste straight from the source.
Next time.
He’d kill for there to be a next time, he realized.
Kill?
Yes. She was that big, that much a part of him. She was his…
Obsession, the beast inside him whispered.
