And Marc was gone.
But Jace was right there, and kissing him felt good, when I really needed something to. That kiss was the only thing in my life that didn’t hurt, at that moment. Though if I’d thought it through, I would have known that in the end, it could hurt as badly as any of those other life-wounds.
But I wasn’t thinking. I was feeling. I was feeling Jace’s mouth on mine. His scent surrounding me. His hand in my hair. I was feeling how badly he wanted this. How badly he wanted me, and needed to know that someone still loved him. Especially now that Ethan was gone, leaving a huge wound in both of our hearts. A wound begging to be healed…
We couldn’t heal it. Ever. A small part of each of us had died along with Ethan, and we could never get those parts back. The best we could do was bandage the wounds.
He kissed me again, and I was no more prepared the second time around. But he was. That second kiss started out gentle, but built quickly when I didn’t pull away. I should have pulled away. But I didn’t, and the next thing I knew, I was pressed between the front of the couch and the front of Jace, his hand on my waist, his tongue in my mouth. His grief feeding my own.
His mouth sucked at mine desperately, his lips soft but insistent. His left hand tilted my head gently, giving him a deeper angle, and when my fingers found the curve of his good arm, his pulse spiked. He inhaled sharply, but his mouth never left mine.
I pulled away, confused as a wave of dizziness washed over me. “Wait…”
“I’ve always loved you,” he murmured against my ear, his words slurred but earnest. He kissed me again, and whatever resistance I’d felt before melted away like sugar on my tongue. My hand trailed from his arm to his chest, lingering on the smooth, hard lines, and I found myself deepening our kiss, sucking on his lower lip as he moaned into my mouth.
His fingers traced my hair down my back, then followed my lowest rib around to my stomach, where he lifted my shirt slowly, trailing his fingers along my skin.
I groaned when his hand found my right breast through my bra, and his tongue dipped deeper into my mouth. Then, suddenly impatient, he pulled the material from my skin and lifted my breast, squeezing gently.
My heart sped up until I thought it would break free from my chest, and I closed my eyes as a surge of vertigo crashed over me, liberally laced with an intoxicating dose of need.
Jace pulled away from me just long enough to tug my shirt over my head, careful with his injured arm, then his mouth found mine again quickly, as if to cut off any protest I might utter. His hands went around my back, and an instant later my bra gave way, leaving my breasts bare and heavy. I let the material fall to the floor, as his good arm slipped around me again, angling us both sideways as he gently lowered me to the floor, propped on his right elbow, as if he felt no pain from his injured limb.
The hardwood was cold against my back, but I only had a moment to notice that, because in the next, he’d tugged the button at my waist free from its hole, and was pulling my pants down, one-handed. My jeans landed in a heap on the floor near my head.
Jace was undressed in less than a heartbeat, and his warm, firm weight settled onto me as his mouth found mine again. He throbbed against my stomach, hot and hard. His hand roamed slowly down my side. He gripped my hip tightly and groaned against my jaw as his lips trailed toward my throat. I curled my hand in his hair and he shifted carefully to one side, pushing my underwear down, gripping my backside as the material slid over my skin.
He sat up on his knees then and fumbled for his pants with both hands, flinching when his bandaged arm brushed the couch. Plastic ripped, and I had a moment to wonder if he always carried a condom in his pocket. Then he was back.
Pleasantly dizzy, I let my fingers wander his back as the muscles bunched and shifted with each movement. My spine arched as his tongue wet a path from my throat to trail between my breasts. He lifted my left leg, then settled himself between my thighs.
My pulse spiked, and I felt my legs wrap around his waist. They tightened around him involuntarily when his hand moved between us. His mouth closed around my nipple, sucking gently as one finger slid inside me, testing. I clenched around him, and he groaned again, withdrawing his finger slowly.
My head swam, and I tried to close my eyes. But he took my chin in hand until I looked at him. Then he entered me gradually, as if each centimeter should be treasured individually. I couldn’t breathe until he was all the way in, filling me with an unfamiliar thickness. For a moment, neither of us moved.
His eyes burned into me, blue flames of pain and longing, blazing in spite of the tears threatening to douse them. Then he moved within me, and I arched up to meet him with each stroke, my fingers trailing over the familiar planes of his body—lines and muscles I’d seen a million times but never truly experienced.
His eyes never closed. Not even at the end, when everything tightened around an intense spiral of pleasure, uncoiling within me. Within us both. My hips arched to meet his, seeking more friction, faster contact. And finally he shuddered from head to toe as my legs clenched around his hips, holding us tightly together.
I let my eyes close, and my body relaxed onto the floor, allowing the cold surface of the wood to leach some of the heat from our union, mercifully cooling my overheated body.
“Faythe…” he said, running one finger down the damp line of my chin, angling my face toward him. I opened my eyes to find the cobalt in his sparkling brighter than I’d ever seen it.
But that blue wasn’t right. I should have been looking into brown eyes, sparkling with tiny flecks of gold. This is all wrong!
“No. Oh, no. Jace, I…” I planted both hands on his chest and pushed him away, guilt and confusion shredding my heart like claws through cotton. What the hell had I done?
Tears filled my eyes, mercifully blurring first his bewilderment, then heartbreak. Then horror. He scrambled off me, banging his bad arm on the sofa cushion and leaving me cold and empty. And miserable.
“Faythe…?” The tremor in his voice broke my heart. Then understanding surfaced, and his tear-filled eyes searched mine desperately. “No. No,” he whispered through clenched teeth. “This was not wrong. It’s the only thing I’ve done right in months. Don’t you dare regret this.”
“Jace, I’m sorry….”
“Damn you, Faythe.” He choked on the words, holding back his own sob. He grabbed my arm, holding me in place when I tried to stand. “I’m not going to let you do this to yourself. Or to me. No matter what happens next, we’ve done nothing wrong. We were there for each other. That’s it.”
I nodded, but I knew better, and my heart felt so heavy each beat actually hurt. “I know. But this…” I gestured back and forth between us. “We can’t do this. I’m with Marc. I love Marc.” And the real bitch was that I’d still love him even if he never forgave me for what I’d just done. Which was a virtual guarantee…
Fresh tears trailed down my cheeks, scalding me as I looked at Jace. Hating myself. Weren’t things bad enough already? How did I always manage to make everything worse?
Determination glinted in his eyes, and was set in the firm line of his mouth. “This isn’t about Marc. I know you love him, and he’d move the earth to be with you. We all know that. But I love you, too, and we could be missing out on something great.” His sudden fortitude shocked me. Scared me. “Faythe, don’t push me away. You’re all I have left.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and took several deep breaths, trying not to smell Jace in front of me, not to taste him on my lips. But it was useless. In that moment, Jace was everywhere. He was in my mind, he was in my heart, and he was in my memory. He smelled good. He tasted good. And the blissful aftershock still throbbing in my most sensitive places felt wonderful, when everything else in my life was an obstacle to be overcome.
No! That’s not fair. I shouldn’t feel pleasure and comfort from someone else while Marc was out there suffering somewhere, trying to get back to me.
“Don’t do this, Jace,�
�� I begged, because the truth was that I wasn’t sure I could put this behind me, if he wasn’t willing to do the same thing. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me in heartrending vulnerability backed by resolve the likes of which I’d never seen in him. “We can’t do this to Marc.”
Jace shook his head, and a fine, hard edge of irritation peeked through his expression, as if he were tired of having to explain such simple concepts. “I’m not asking you to leave him. I’m just asking you not to leave me. Don’t count me out.”
What? My heart tripped, and my stomach pitched in anticipation. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I can wait. For now. But when things get back to normal—assuming that ever happens—I want my shot. We can make each other happy, Faythe. I know it. And I’m done walking away from things I want just because they don’t come easily. You’re worth the work.”
Oh, now, he decides he’s Alpha material…
The front door opened on my left, and cold air swirled inside to douse the heat we’d built. Jace whirled around and swiped the back of one hand across his mouth, as if that would hide what we’d done.
It wouldn’t, and neither would covering myself, yet I pulled my shirt from the pile of discarded clothing and clutched it to my chest, as if it could also cover my guilt.
Dr. Danny Carver stood frozen in the entry, one hand still on the doorknob. His face was carefully devoid of judgment, but in the werecat world, that only meant he was thinking things he didn’t want us to see. “Um…Greg wants everyone in his office.”
“Sure.” Jace stood and scooped up his pants in a single, graceful movement no human could have managed. Though in that moment, I probably couldn’t have managed it, either. “Let me get a clean shirt.” His eyes were still red, and the doc’s gaze softened when he saw that. He thought he knew what had happened; I could see that in his face. He thought we were comforting each other the best way we knew how. And he was right. But he had no idea it went beyond that. Maybe way, way beyond that.
Jace was gone in seconds, his heavy steps echoing up the stairs, and a moment later, water ran from the shower. But his eyes burned into mine from my own memory, long after he was gone.
I pulled my shirt over my head and stood to step into my underwear, gripping the arm of the couch for balance. I was dizzy, and I didn’t know whether I had Jace or the tequila to thank for that.
“You okay?” Carver closed the door and reached for my arm to steady me, but I waved him off as I pulled my pants back on. “I’m fine. Well, as fine as everyone else, anyway.”
He nodded and lifted the mostly empty bottle of tequila from the end table, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Faythe, this is only to be used under the supervision of a responsible adult. And for the record, Jace Hammond doesn’t qualify.”
But he had no idea how much growing up Jace had just done.
I sighed, dreading what I had to say next, but knowing it had to be said. “Dr. Carver, Danny, please don’t tell anyone….” I let my eyes plead for me and, to my horror, they began to water, and suddenly the doc swam in a swirling pool of my own regret and confusion.
“About you and Jace?”
“There is no me and Jace,” I insisted, wiping away tears with the heels of my hands. There can’t be….
“That’s not what it looked like.”
“Doc—”
But he held up one hand to cut me off. “It’s none of my business.” That was an attitude no one else seemed to share and part of me thought it would be easier if he’d just start yelling. I knew how to handle yelling.
The doctor shrugged and tequila sloshed in the bottle. “You’re both upset, and when people aren’t thinking straight, shit happens.” Bending, he picked up the lid and screwed it on before setting the bottle down. “And we all know Cuervo’s good at making shit happen. Just tell me you know what you’re doing and promise you won’t have any more of this, and I’ll forget I saw anything.”
I sighed and sank onto the couch, my head buried in both hands. “I’ve got that second one covered. No more tequila. But the truth is that I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.”
Carver smiled sympathetically. “Well, until you figure it out, I suggest you take a shower. You smell like Jace.”
Twenty
“Put your father on the phone this instant,” my dad shouted, stomping the length of the Oriental rug, then several feet onto the hardwood before turning. “You do not want to get mixed up in this, Brett. I don’t care where he is or what he’s doing. Find him. Now!”
I flinched when he shouted, and my hand clenched around the arm of the leather couch.
“I’m sorry, Councilman Sanders,” Brett Malone said over the phone, but judging from the rage on my father’s face, he could never be sorry enough to make any difference. And he got no bonus points for referring to my father as a councilman in spite of his tenuous position on the council. “But my dad’s not here right now. I don’t know where he went, and I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
My father blinked in blatant disbelief. “It’s nine-thirty in the morning, and he works from home.”
“Yes, sir.” Brett sounded truly miserable—and scared shitless—and I almost felt sorry for him. He hadn’t chosen to be born to Calvin Malone, and what little contact I’d had with him in the past had convinced me he did not see eye to eye with his father. It was thanks to Brett that we’d had a heads-up about my dad’s impeachment a couple of days in advance.
But my father was beyond logic, and I couldn’t really blame him.
“You can’t tell me he doesn’t have a cell phone!” Our Alpha stomped back across the rug toward his desk this time. The floor shook with each step, and I ran both hands through my shower-damp hair to keep from fidgeting.
I’d thought I would enjoy this—seeing him jerk a much-anticipated knot in Malone’s figurative tail. But instead, I dreaded every moment of it, because each word my dad spoke reinforced my certainty that he was losing control.
He wasn’t acting like an Alpha. He was acting like a father. A devastated, enraged father.
“Yes, sir, my dad has a cell phone,” Brett mumbled miserably. “Unfortunately, I’m standing here looking at it. He, uh, must have forgotten it.”
My father stopped pacing long enough to slam one palm flat on his desk. The entire surface bounced, overturning a stapler, a paperweight shaped like a cat, and a paper-clip holder, which rolled to the floor and spilled its contents all over the floor.
Owen was there in an instant, scooping paper clips up by the handful, but our Alpha didn’t notice.
“Give me the number,” he demanded, whirling in a precise about-face to head for the wet bar on the other side of the room. “I’ll leave him a message.” But we all knew he would do no such thing. He’d keep calling until he got an answer, even if it took all day.
“I’m sorry, Councilman, but I’m not authorized to give out his personal phone number. He uses the one you called for Pride business, and it’s the best way to reach him.”
“Yet he’s not there.”
“No, sir. Not at the moment.”
“Aaaaggghhhh.” My father’s fist clenched, and the wireless phone exploded, showering him with electronic shrapnel. “Get me another phone!” our Alpha roared, and I flinched as Dr. Carver dashed into the hall.
My dad sank into his desk chair and leaned forward with his head in his hands, elbows resting on the blotter. It was a closed posture and strongly suggested that he did not want to be bothered, but with Jace watching me from the love seat across the rug and Owen still on the floor picking up paper clips, I felt I had to say something.
“Dad?”
“Hmm?” He lifted his head to glance at me, but there was no real interest in his eyes.
“Do we have a plan?”
“Yes. We make them pay.” The cold determination in his voice chilled me worse than the January wind, and deep in my gut I knew I should try to talk him out of immediate action. He wa
s obviously not thinking clearly, and rash decisions were rarely well thought out. He’d taught me that himself—that whole thing about revenge being best served cold.
But I couldn’t do it. I wanted Malone to pay as badly as my dad did, and frankly I was glad we were finally on the same page.
I took a deep breath and nodded. “How?”
“Immediate retaliation. The numbers are to our advantage—” because our Pride had the largest population of any in the country “—and I meant what I told Paul Blackwell. If Malone wants a war, he’s damn well going to get one. I’ll call in every tom in the territory.”
Oh, hell.
I stood, trying to keep my hands from shaking as I crossed the room toward his desk. “Um, nearly a quarter of our toms are still out looking for Marc.”
“I know.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “The men who are already out can keep looking, but I can’t spare anyone else.”
“Daddy…I have to go back.” I righted the overturned stapler on his desk, then picked up the cat-shaped paperweight and turned it over in my hands. “There’s nothing I can do for Ethan, but Marc needs me.”
From the corner of my eye, I caught the glance Owen and Dr. Carver exchanged—part pity, part resignation. They didn’t believe Marc was alive.
My father stared at me for a moment, as if trying to concentrate on what I’d said. What I was trying to say. Then he nodded, and bowed his head for a moment in thought. “Of course he does.” I saw my own confliction reflected on his face. He took the stone cat from me and set the paperweight on a stack of papers. “After Kaci Shifts, Jace can drive you and Dan back to Mississippi. He’ll have to come back, though,” he said, gaze shifting briefly to Jace. “We can’t afford to have our resources spread so thin right now.”
I nodded, numb. How the hell could we handle all of it at once? There weren’t enough of us to find Marc before the strays did, avenge Ethan against Malone’s Pride, and protect Kaci from the council’s scheming. Not even if we called in every tom we had.
Prey Page 24
