by Renea Mason
I drained myself drop by drop for him.
For us.
My forehead rested against his, my arm trapped between. He stirred. Sitting up, I watched his eyes flutter open. I hadn’t the strength to smile, and though we had plenty of issues to overcome, I had never glimpsed such a welcome sight.
“Hey…nice of you to join me.” I stroked my thumb along his cheek.
He squinted, blinking over and over again. “Where am I?”
“The Hilton. Ain’t what it used to be.” A tense chuckle escaped his lips.
His tongue snaked out from between his lips, gathering the residual drops of my blood. “Linden, what did you do?”
I huffed. “Of all the things you say to me, that is by far the question you ask the most.”
Moaning, he adjusted his positioning, trying to sit up straighter. “I wonder why?” He tried to roll his eyes in exasperation but instead closed them, wincing through the pain.
Even in the short period since waking, his coloring improved, and several of the bruises had disappeared. I, however, was worse for the wear. The lack of blood, head trauma, and deep ache in my bones and between my legs had not subsided. His need was the pinnacle of my focus, drowning out all other thoughts.
I gripped his shoulders, attempting to adjust him. “What did Vidius do to you? Did he say anything?”
Overton lifted his shoulders, stretching the muscles. “He found me in the storage room.” He grimaced as he lifted his arms to cup my face. His brow furrowed. “I need you to know something. Please understand…” The terrified look in his eyes made me uneasy.
“What? What is it?” The intensity of his expression was a cause for concern.
“I didn’t abandon you. I ran to the storage room to find the acid I had stored there for experiments. I figured it would slow him down until Cyril got here. I couldn’t get the damn door open. It was stuck. I could hear every whimper you made echo through the chamber. I yanked and tugged the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. I gave up and decided to run back to save you. My plan was to distract him, but by the time I got back, you were both gone. At that point, I wasn’t even sure who we were dealing with. I heard your warning, and that was it. Please know I didn’t abandon you. Please…” His lips pressed against mine. “Please forgive me.” He breathed against my mouth.
I had so much faith in Overton that it never occurred to me that he ran to save himself. As the next words raced through my mind, I realized, yet again, how my foolishness had almost cost me everything.
He loved me.
No matter what I tried to tell myself, or whatever misguided notion I followed into my abyss, there was nothing more absolute than his love. My fear of not being worthy or deserving of him, coupled with potentially losing him someday, created a lie that if dispelled, would force me to question everything.
Could I even split my love? My devotion? Was there enough of me left to give him half of who I was? If he didn’t love me, I’d never have to try. It was the easy way out. As his lips caressed mine, nothing but absolute truth remained—I needed him. More importantly, I loved him, and selfish or not, I was tired of denying it.
His lips were full, soft, and smooth, and as his body healed, a fervor took hold. My head swam from the already building lust and drowning lucidity. His outpouring of love mixed with regret and the aftermath of head trauma overwhelmed me.
I broke the kiss, needing to balance myself. “Please…I…” I clutched his shoulders, putting some distance between us. Squeezing my eyes shut, dizziness threatening to silence me.
“I’m sorry,” he uttered in a soft, remorseful tone.
“No…no…you don’t understand.” I opened my eyes, ignoring the blinding pain so I could stare into his. “I love you, Stanton. I had no doubts. I knew you didn’t abandon me.”
His eyes widened with my declaration. I drank in his handsome face, noticing that most of the bruising was gone.
I sighed with relief, but with each moment I grew less aware, focusing a chore. I needed to tell him before I couldn’t. “I hit my head a few times and…” In the corner of my vision, blackness appearing. I wanted to tell him my plan, but if I didn’t awaken from the impending void, he would at least know I loved him. That was all that mattered at that moment.
CHAPTER SIX
Fire
I woke with a gasp. Lying on the cold ground, I peered up at Overton, who had his hands splayed across my chest. A tender smile curved his lips as he lifted his hands. A surge of electricity reverberated through my nervous system. Sitting upright, I asked, “Did you heal me?”
He gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Yes, I suppose, I did.”
I closed my eyes, reveling in the steadiness of my mind. No more piercing headache, spinning room, or faltering focus. However, the memory of Cyril warning Overton against using his talent rang through my head in place of the pain. “I thought Cyril told you not to do that.”
He glanced over his shoulder, toward the hall leading to the chamber. “Well…he’s not here, is he, love? I’ve always been a fool when it comes to you. Why change now?” He cupped my cheek with his hand.
I stretched my arms at my sides and then turned my neck from side to side. I was good as new—no pain, no aches, no crushing numbness. I gazed back into his adoring eyes. It was not just love I saw, but rather, desire. The silence between us a dare. Stakes in a game we hadn’t yet declared. The moment of decision lingered as hunger within me built, but he was two steps ahead of me. His hand traversed the inseam on my pants. The connection, the intensity, would not be stifled.
“How long was I out?” I panted in a poor attempt to break our growing need for one another. Now was not the time. I had to focus. I needed to focus. Escape should be the only target, but with each touch, each breath, every second passing, my will failed.
He inhaled sharply. His voice, soft and soothing, comforted me. “A few minutes at most. I wasn’t about to risk you not waking.”
The building ache distracted me. I fought a war within myself. One part of me knew what was right, necessary even, and one couldn’t give a fuck about anything other than losing myself in him. I shifted my weight from one hip to the other on the cold, hard floor, causing Overton’s hand to slide further up my thigh. A soft whimper left my lips.
“I’m sorry about all that has happened before. For not acknowledging you, for my anger, but I won’t apologize for loving you. For wanting you, and for taking what’s mine.” With no further pretense, he grasped the button on my jeans.
My moment of shock made me slump against the stone wall, and the tiny grip I had on reality shattered. Nothing else mattered. Not the past few hours, not the reason I was here, not the cold stone floor. This was need, beyond need, and only he could quench it.
Lowering my zipper, he placed his lips to my ear, his hot breath sending a shiver through me. “Do you have any idea how hard this has been for me?” He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of my pants and tugged one side and then the next.
“Yeah…I sort of do.”
He laughed, though it was not amusement lacing his next words, but rather mockery. “I hardly think you do. While you were off fucking Cyril, I was here by myself trying to regain my discipline. Trying to forget I had ever met you.”
Pain—having nothing to do with physical wounds—cut through me as I remembered Cyril’s rebuke for trying to break the bond between us. Where would Overton be, being immortal? Human women would die and would never rival our connection. My inadvertent selfishness nearly cost him everything. In trying to force him into a life without me, one I thought would make him happy, I failed to realize I was what gave him joy all along. “I’ll never stop telling you I’m sorry. I just did what I thought was best for you.”
“That’s the thing; you always think you know what’s right. Making choices for everyone else. Perhaps it’s time I start making a few for you.” He yanked my pants down until they bunched just below my knees. “I have waited for you for many lifetimes,
and I almost let you take my choices away. No more.” He threaded the fingers of one hand through my hair, twisting his grip until the strand pulled taut, and then crushed his mouth to mine. The faint metallic taste of my blood still lingered on his tongue and the sweet remnants of Cyril’s… Fuck. I panicked with the realizing that none of what we were feeling may be real. Nothing more than lust fueled by the powder Vidius fed me, and the blood I fed him might transfer the false desire to him. Would he regret this moment tomorrow?
With each movement of his mouth against mine, and the feel of his fingers sliding between my legs, I surrendered, giving him exactly what he asked for—the choice. I refused to second-guess him again, to make presumptions, leading us to yet another crossroads where the paths pushed us further apart. I would not only surrender to him, but to myself, to what we had always been destined to be. Magically willed or not, I’d allow the choice to be his
His hand wrapped in my hair, yanked my head backward, and exposed my throat. With his other hand, he slid a finger between my folds. He trailed kisses along my hammering pulse point. “Tell me you want this.”
I wouldn’t deny him my permission. My submission. “I do.”
He released my hair, coaxing me to stand, and helped me out of my jeans, shoes, and socks. When he straightened, after tossing my garments aside, the feral look in his eyes—a warning of things to come. The slowness with which he lowered his zipper was a special torture.
“This is it, Linden. There’s no going back. You’re as much mine as you are Cyril’s, there is no willing me away this time.” His chest heaved with heavy breaths, and eyes darkened with the storm of lust raging behind them.
He stalked forward. On instinct, I retreated one step for every one he advanced, but it wasn’t out of fear. This was our dance, our prelude. My back thudded against the concrete wall. I bit my lip in anticipation. I needed him to take away the ache.
He reached inside his pants and pulled out his cock. The sight of his hardness made my mouth water. I wanted to taste him. Command him. But that was not what he needed now. This was about his possession, his confirmation.
In one swift motion, he hooked his hands under my arms and lifted, pressing me against the wall.
Chest to chest, I tilted my hips and wrapped my legs around him.
He slipped one hand down and guided his cock into me. The rush, the relief, the completion made my body hum with excitement.
His hands palmed my ass, supporting me, as he drove his cock farther into me. “I love you, Linden. From this moment on, I don’t care how you feel about that. I don’t care if you accept it or not, or if you try to explain it away. I won’t let you dictate how I feel anymore.” Along with his words, his body sealed his promise. Hard, brutal thrusts smashed my back against the frigid wall, but the pain was delightful. This moment had to happen for us to move on, for us to become who we were meant to be.
His ferocity brought out my playful side. “Oh…don’t you worry, you’re stuck with me now. You should be careful what you wish for.” I trailed kisses through his stubble along the underside of his jaw while inside a fire burned—a smoldering ache that would take more than a quick fuck to extinguish.
Overton squeezed my ass. His hips slapped against mine with each punishing thrust. “It’s you who should be worried.”
I gasped with his next thrust. “Why?”
He leaned in and nipped my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. “Between Cyril and me taking turns, you may never get out of bed again.”
The building heat nearly stole any coherent thoughts I had, but I managed a stammering response. “Promises, promises.” I shot him a coy smile, and it was as though he meant to capture it with his lips as his mouth crushed against mine.
Breathing against my lips, he demanded, “No more talking, just feel. Feel what you do to me. Feel me inside you. Feel all the passion you inspire in me—the lust, aggravation, desire, frustration, love. Feel me, Linden. Feel. Us.”
His forehead rested against mine, our connected gazes lighting a flame. Each pant, gasp, and moan fueled the fire threatening to consume us. That was what we needed, to combust and then fall back together, piece by piece.
I arched my back. The rhythm of his thrusts moved in time with our beating hearts. There was no doubt I was destined for him. Giving my worries to the fates, my mind to lust, and my heart to him, I fell.
He clutched me tighter as I surrendered to ecstasy, driving into me with deep, syncopated thrusts.
“I love you,” he murmured against my ear as he spilled inside me.
I dug my fingers into his back, clutching him through the quakes that gripped his body, allowing him to ride out his pleasure.
He peppered my face with kisses and slowed the pace of his hips until his thrusts were nothing more than a gentle caress. “Love, that was just a warm up. I’m not done with you.”
My eyes closed, and I savored the bliss and relief of our connection. The feel of his lips on my neck. So lost in the moment, I almost missed the sound of someone clearing their throat.
I dipped my head to the right to gaze around Overton, unlatching his mouth from my throat. Standing just beyond the bars was the most amazing sight. Cyril. The real Cyril.
But how awkward a greeting. Overton was still buried inside me. Well…Cyril was the one who brought me here. Even encouraged me to fuck Overton. He got exactly what he wanted.
I tapped on Overton’s back. “Ahh…”
Cyril chuckled. “Linden, what did you do? I was only gone a few hours.”
Overton’s eyebrows shot up at the sound of Cyril’s voice. He released me a little too fast, dropping me to the floor. Fumbling to get his cock back into his pants, he stammered, “I… I’m so sorry, love.”
Cyril yanked on the cell door, eliciting a whine from the iron hinges. “I see you two have buried the…hatchet? Or was it the sword?” Cyril’s playful tone eased my trepidation.
Overton extended his hand, helping me up.
Cyril rested his fists on his hips and waited for us to exit. I hopped on one foot to thread my right leg into my jeans, then repeated the action for the left side before exiting the cage. Cyril smirked at my clumsy delay without saying a word.
Overton left the cell, keeping his eyes down while Cyril watched him go with a glint of concern and knowledge in his gaze. The two had likely already shared the night’s events in their minds, saving Overton and me from having to rehash it. Sometimes Cyril’s mind reading ability came in handy. Even though Cyril could read the mind of all the men he created, he could only read mine during sex.
I grasped the bars of the cell to steady myself and worked my pants into place. Embarrassment, shame, and a myriad of other feelings overcame me. Even though I knew Cyril sanctioned my relationship with Overton, it was a different situation to have him witness it.
Walking through the doorway, I glanced up to meet his gaze, afraid of what I might see. Through all the uncertainty there remained one important note. “Vidius? Where is he?”
Cyril wrapped me in his arms and kissed the top of my head. “He’s gone. We can talk later, Light. There are many things to discuss.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Consequence
Cyril drove us back to the city. His eerie silence left my nerves unsettled. The events of the day compromised my resolve. He was right; there was much to discuss. Vidius was the focal point, but beyond that lingered those subtle curiosities that would cut away at me over time like drips of water on stone.
Overton sat in the back seat, silent in his contemplation. I’m not sure why it bothered me so much, but without the distraction of conversation, my mind drifted to places it had no business being. Like how just an hour or so ago Overton had my back against the cold cement wall. My thoughts should have been focused on strategies, plans, battles, and revenge.
I tried to drive Overton from my mind. I shifted in the seat, struggling to find a more comfortable position to ease the ache between my thighs. I had to get a
grip.
Cyril must have noticed because he glanced in my direction. “Light, something wrong?”
I didn’t want to tell him. He knew they had stolen his blood. It’s how they made the Marys, but I didn’t want to explain the powder.
Pulling my feet onto the seat, I gathered my knees to my chest and leaned against the door, the ache building with each passing moment. I took two deep inhales and then exhaled the second breath in a loud blow of frustration. I’d meant to contain my discontent, but I knew, with every minute that passed, it would only prove harder. “Nothing. I’m fine.” Another slow release of breath.
I pressed my body harder against the door. I knew what the problem was. It was the powder Vidius fed me. We had too many things to deal with for me to succumb to sex cravings commandeering my body. I was stronger than this. I could fight it. I wrapped my arms around my shins and closed my eyes. Magic, maybe that would help. I needed to will it away.
The sound of gravel under tires and the sudden decrease in speed made me open my eyes. Cyril had pulled off the road. I gritted my teeth.
“Light? Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or am I going to have to resort to other means of finding out, like reading your mind?”
Since he could only read my mind when we were intimate, his persuasion was the last thing I needed. Or was it exactly what I needed? Fuck.
Overton reached around the seat and stroked my hair. “Love, tell me what’s wrong. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
God, I needed fresh air, something to help me get ahold of myself. I pressed the seatbelt button, tugged on the door handle, and then tumbled from the car onto the gravel-covered berm. I kicked the door closed and ran into the forest. My grumbled name falling from Cyril’s lips was the last thing I heard.
Over rocks and fallen trees, through brush and stray branches, I sprinted until I came to an outcropping of rocks. Out of breath, I leaned against a large, flat boulder, gasping for air as the inferno between my legs fought to overcome my control.
