by Larissa Ione
So when Shade took her to his place for dinner and a few hours of sex, and then promptly brought her home, or when he’d meet her at a hotel, screw her hard and fast, and take off afterward, she’d been okay with it, for the most part.
And actually, hard and fast sounded really good right now. Just thinking about it brought a low growl into her chest and wetness between her legs. The wolf-beast in her wanted to get down and dirty. Wanted to submit to a powerful male, but only after a stimulating, hardcore battle.
She had never believed she would want to have sex with someone she hated, but maybe hating him would make it easier. It was just sex, right? No emotional attachments, no falling for him again. Just. Sex.
Except, could their relationship remain that way, now that they were bonded? He’d made it sound so … permanent. But maybe the R-XR could find a way to get her out of it. And if not, well, they had a few things to work out, because they couldn’t spend decades—or even centuries—hating each other.
She shook her head, because she refused to believe this was permanent. There had to be a way out, and she’d do whatever she had to in order to find it.
Where was he?
The sound of footsteps vibrated in her ears, still sensitive from her shift. Yes. Heart pounding, she stood and swept up the blanket to cover herself. She’d stripped last night before she’d morphed into beast form, and now she wished she’d dressed this morning.
When Shade rounded the corner, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved to see him or not. He filled the doorway, both massive shoulders brushing the sides of the stone frame, his broad chest expanding with each forceful breath. The scent of his arousal and anger came to her on a hot draft of air.
Excitement shot through her. Uncontrollable, shivery excitement.
“Damn you,” he said, in a voice that had been scraped over sandpaper. “Damn you for making me burn like this. For you.”
Even dressed in scrubs, he stole her breath. He was carrying a bag of fast food, and his eyes were gold lasers that burned everywhere his gaze lit on her skin. He said nothing as he tossed the food to the floor and closed the distance between them.
She sighed his name, hating that she’d done it but unable to take it back. Not when she was already on fire for him. She closed her eyes, waited for him to kiss her, but he spun her, pushed her against the wall so his chest pressed against her back. His erection prodded her backside through the fabric of his scrub bottoms, and she couldn’t help but rub herself against him like some sort of feline in heat.
“I hate how you do that to me,” she whispered.
He popped her hips back with one hand splayed on her belly. “Do what?” He roughly kicked her feet apart.
“Make me forget how much I dislike you.”
“Welcome to my world.” He slapped his palms on the stone on either side of her head and covered her body with his. “I don’t want this, but here I am.”
For a moment she thought he’d take her like that, against the wall. But he remained motionless, dominating her in a primitive, animal message. The male animal was larger, stronger, and he would have his way with his female.
She began to tremble with forbidden, naughty anticipation. One of his hands tore away the blanket she still held uselessly to her breasts as the other clamped down on her hipbone and turned her to bring her hard against him. His erection ground into her belly, an immense, unyielding presence.
“Touch me.” His fingers dug into her hip while the other hand came up to tangle in her hair. “Do it now.” His pelvis arched into her, a not-so-subtle command.
Oh, yes. She wanted—needed—to touch him. But the beast still raged inside, desperate for more than a merely pleasant release. It wanted wild and erotic, with an edge of danger.
Her core went molten at that thought.
Feeling frisky and aggressive and more than a little stubborn, she nipped his collarbone hard enough to make him suck air. “Make me.”
His body went steel-rod stiff. “What did you just say?”
She boldly met his gaze. “I said, make me.”
He looked so floored, so utterly shocked that she almost laughed. Almost, because instantly, his shock veered sharply to anger. The hand that had been in her hair grabbed her wrist. She snarled, struggled against him, but he didn’t give an inch. He brought her hand inside his pants and forced her to palm his cock.
“Now,” he said, in a deep, guttural rasp, “stroke me.”
Their gazes were still locked. The predator in her got all hackles-raised at the challenge in his eyes. The female in her got all shivery. The woman who had done a lot of growing up in the last eleven months decided that it didn’t like being ordered around. It was time to show this male that she wasn’t going to roll over and play the submissive.
Smiling, she closed her fingers around his thick length. It pulsed in her grip, the hot blood pounding in a raging tide against her palm. The head pushed up through the ring of her fist, which she couldn’t close fully. He felt good, so good … she waited until the glint of triumph sparked in his eyes—and then she shoved him as hard as she could. He stumbled back. She sank into a crouch, ready to spring.
“You—”
She struck him in the gut with her shoulder, putting her entire body into the hit. He grunted and fell backward, coming down on the bed more gracefully than she’d have liked.
Her victory was short-lived. He came at her like a tank, spun her and slammed her face-first to the floor hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs. He pinned her with his weight, his long body stretched out on top of hers.
Hot breath fanned across her cheek as he growled into her ear, “What happened to my timid little Runa?”
Timid. The reminder of the power he’d had over her, the power to break her heart, really ticked her off.
“She died in the jaws of a werewolf, you son of a bitch.”
Beneath him, she writhed, trying to break free of his grip but feeling her arousal grow with every motion. His cock ground against her ass, a hot brand between her cheeks. She could feel every ridge, every bump through the thin cotton of his pants, and now as she struggled, it was to push her hips up. To get him where she needed him to be.
“Would a son of a bitch make you moan?” His tongue swept along her jaw, a warm, wet stroke that forced a moan from her throat, just as he’d said.
“Yes,” she panted. God, she was going to come like this.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
In an instant, his weight was gone, but his palm came down on the back of her neck to hold her cheek to the floor. His other hand slid beneath her hips to lift her so she was on her knees. She heard the rustle of fabric as he pushed down his scrub bottoms.
“I’ve wanted to do this to you since yesterday, when I dragged you down to chain you here.” He inhaled a great breath and let out an appreciative purr, and she knew he’d scented her desire. “I had you positioned like this, open to me. Vulnerable.”
Vulnerable. In this position, she couldn’t move, was completely dominated. It chafed, made her want to strike back, and yet, she quivered with excitement and her arousal ran down the inside of her thigh. She knew Shade saw, because he groaned.
“I want to lick you,” he said roughly. “I want to start low on your thigh and drag my tongue up through that sweet juice until I hit the spot that makes you scream.”
Oh, God. She whimpered, pumped her hips as his words triggered the beginnings of an orgasm.
“But I can’t trust you not to fight me, can I?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “Trust me.” She wanted his tongue buried between her legs, wanted him to lap at her, to take her with his mouth until she collapsed.
His finger slid up the inside of her thigh instead, catching her slick juice. “Too bad I’m such a son of a bitch.”
Straining, she jerked her head around enough to watch him suck his finger as he locked his gaze with hers.
The erotic sight tackled her, and she detonated
.
“Oh, yeah.” Shade released his grip on her neck and entered her with a swift thrust of his hips. Her core grabbed him, the spasms that rocked her body clenching and milking with such strength that he hissed, pushed deep, and just held on. “Fuck,” he groaned. “Oh … fuck.”
She felt him swell inside her, and then he was pumping so hard she was scooting forward on the floor. The front of his thighs slapped the backs of hers and his fingers gripped her hips with bruising force.
This was what she’d wanted since she woke up. She rejoiced in the furious pace, the brutal pounding, the wet sounds of erotic play … his shout as he released inside her.
Another climax took her by surprise, ripped through her body like a strike of lightning. Shade kept pounding into her, his hips jerking as his second release wracked his body. Another came for her, and another, until she was sobbing with pleasure and exhaustion.
She welcomed both, because all too soon, she’d be wide awake in a strange world with a demon who didn’t want her, and another demon who wanted her … but wanted her dead.
Shade collapsed, slid bonelessly to the floor, taking Runa with him so they were on their sides, spooning.
Hell’s freakin’ rings. Was that the kind of mind-blowing sex that happened between mates? If so, he now understood why E got that stars-in-his-eyes look whenever he talked about Tayla.
The conversation with his brothers regarding Runa’s fate came roaring back, along with scenarios that put a damper on the postorgasmic bliss. He could picture Tayla attacking Runa with silver-tipped weapons, beating her into a pulp before delivering the death blow.
Then there was Wraith, who could be brutally efficient or play with his prey like a cat with a mouse. He might take Runa down quickly, but would he feed on her? The image of his brother at Runa’s throat, getting turned on and draining her of the last of her life as she lay limp in his arms, made Shade tense up and pull Runa closer. No fucking way was Wraith going to touch her.
Eidolon could do it with compassion, could inject a killing sedative while pretending to be taking blood or something … but no, if Runa had to die, Shade would drum up the courage to do it himself. She deserved that, at least.
She stirred, and he ran his hand up and down her arm. Her smooth skin, still curiously devoid of his dermoire, prickled with gooseflesh beneath his palm. Why hadn’t the mate-markings appeared? Was it possible that he was bonded to her … but that she wasn’t bonded to him? If so, he was looking at an eyeful of disaster. He required sex like humans required water. To live. Sex for a bonded male could come only from his mate. If the bond wasn’t reciprocated, she could take off, have sex with whomever she wanted. If he couldn’t get to her, he’d die.
He’d have to attempt her part of the bonding ritual again. He couldn’t afford for her to be a free agent while he was tied to her.
“Runa?”
“Mmm.”
He nuzzled her hair, inhaled her natural, earthy fragrance. “Come on. Let’s clean up.”
She didn’t answer or move, so he unlocked the morphestus manacles with a command and carried her into the shower. Gently, he set her down. She smiled at him in a slightly dazed way, swaying on legs so shaky he worried she’d drop. Without thinking, he folded her into his arms and held her upright. When the spray from the double heads jutting from opposite rock walls hit her, she moaned, threw back her head, and damn she was beautiful.
Keeping one arm around her, he poured a stream of liquid soap over her shoulders, covered her in the pearly syrup until it dripped down her arched back and between her breasts. Carefully, tenderly, he washed her, all the while thinking what a moron he was for letting himself enjoy this.
She made an erotic sound, something between a gasp and a moan, and he pulled her closer, used his body as a buffer against her orgasmic spasms. Her noises, the feel of her slick, wet skin against his … it was enough to get him hard again. Not that it ever took much, but after the sex they’d just had, he should be sated for hours.
Hell’s gates, he was in trouble.
He should never have brought her into the shower, should have cleaned himself up after the sex and left her to fend for herself. And she could. Of that he had no doubt.
Appreciation for her strength swelled in him, made him smile as he combed his hand through her hair. This new Runa threatened his world as no female ever had. Even if he couldn’t sense her physical and emotional needs and moods, he’d find himself attracted to her. Sure, she was gorgeous, more so now that she had an edge about her, but it was more than that. Beneath the stronger, more aggressive personality she’d developed over the last year was the soft femininity and nurturing disposition he’d been raised to appreciate. He’d always told himself that he’d taken care of his sisters and mother, but truly, it had been the other way around.
Gods, why couldn’t Roag have bonded him to anyone else? No other female tugged at his heart like Runa. No other female drew out his protective instincts the way she did.
No other female stood a chance of making him fall in love.
She was still only half-responsive as he rinsed and dried her, but as he tucked her into bed, she managed a yawn and a mumbled, “Food?”
“Yeah, I brought food. It’s cold now, but I’ve never met a cold burger I didn’t like.” He fetched the bag he’d tossed to the floor earlier. She sat up, her gaze both groggy and dreamy as she dug into the fries and quarter-pounders.
“Thank you,” she said between bites. “I’m starving.”
“I can see that.” He smiled when she stopped shoveling food into her mouth to glare at him, but it was a mock glare, because she chomped down on a fry and gave him a playful grin. Overtaken by a sudden urge to caress her pouty bottom lip with his thumb, he reached for her. With a curse, he checked himself at the last second and thrust a napkin at her to cover his actions. “You have ketchup on your mouth,” he lied. “And ah, sorry about last night. I kinda got tied up at the hospital.” He stretched out on top of the covers next to her. “That was a pun.”
She froze midchew. Swallowed. “Tied up? Seriously?”
She looked so cute that this time when the urge to touch her made him itch, he gave in to it, trailing a finger along her exposed hip. “Funny thing. Seems that when you bit me in Roag’s dungeon, you transmitted your lycanthropy to me. So last night when I stepped out of the Harrowgate into the hospital, I grew fur and fangs, and then tried to eat half the staff.”
“But …” The color drained from Runa’s face. “You said you’re immune to it.”
“Under normal circumstances, yeah. Eidolon thinks whatever allows you to shift at will affected your disease, and therefore—”
“Your resistance to it.” She closed her eyes and fell back against the studded-leather headboard. “I’m sorry, Shade. I’m so sorry.”
Emotion clogged his throat, a knotted mix of pleasure that she cared enough to be sorry, guilt that he’d gotten her turned into a werewolf, and anger that he’d let himself feel anything for her at all.
“Don’t be,” he said roughly. “If you hadn’t bitten me, I could have died from the pain I was in.”
“Still—”
“Don’t,” he barked. “Eat your food and get some rest. We’re heading to the hospital in a couple of hours.”
“Okay, Mr. Grumpy. Will we be coming back here?”
“We’ll have to.” He measured her response as he leaned in, some sick perversion wanting to get a rise out of her as he said, “We need to chain ourselves up.”
And wouldn’t that be interesting. They’d either tear each other apart or screw each other to death.
“Together?” The French fry in her hand began to tremble. “So we can touch?”
Touch, taste … Shade’s body hardened as his mind filled with images of what it would be like to spend a night with both of them in beast form and nothing but pure animal instinct to guide them. Even now, his instinct was to put her flat on her back and drill her into the mattress.
Gem had just showered, stepped into a fresh pair of scrub pants, and fastened her bra when the unisex locker room door opened.
“Ah, sorry …”
“Kynan.” She’d been trying to get him alone all day, but the man was a master of evasion, so she wasn’t going to waste this opportunity. “Hey. Look, we need to talk about the other day …”
He held up his hands and made a point of not looking at her boobs. He looked everywhere but there. “It’s fine. We’re cool.”
He turned away, but she grabbed his wrist. “No. Wait. Please.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” His already low voice dropped even lower, scraping gravel. “Let go. I don’t like to be touched.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said softly. “Tay told me how you and Lori couldn’t keep your hands off each other.”
Kynan went taut, but the pulse in his wrist bounded against her fingers. “Don’t go there.”
“I can see your scars, Ky. It’s what I am. I can exploit them, reopen them, make them worse.” She bit her lip, wondering if she’d just done more damage. “Or I can help you heal them.”
“There’s nothing here to heal, doctor.”
“What happened to the Kynan I used to know? The one who laughed, the one who was gentle and caring and laid-back?”
He laughed then, but it was a bitter, cold sound. “He’s dead, Gem. He died right alongside Lori.”
His wife, whom he’d discovered in the arms of two different males in one night—one a trusted Guardian, and the other a demon with no moral compass.
