by Tillie Cole
We walked the remaining mile in silence. But Tanner stayed close, and although he didn’t take my hand again, he kept looking back at me. His hands would ball into fists then relax, only to do it again. His shoulders were tense, and the wounded arm was dropped, as if the pain was getting worse. I couldn’t make out much of his injury in this darkness, but I knew it was bad. The gun was slung over his chest, ready to use at a moment’s notice.
I replayed how he’d killed the attacker. How the man had submitted so easily. It was no longer surprising to me that Tanner Ayers was the heir to the Ku Klux Klan. And I knew that in years to come, when he took over, anyone they deemed inferior was not going to be safe.
Tanner pushed through the thick foliage. He stopped dead, and I realized we’d reached the safe house. I followed him as he quietly searched for the door with his hands. It was pitch black, and the house was completely hidden from view of anyone in the forest, on the road. My father’s safe houses were always like that. Impenetrable. Fortresses hidden in plain sight.
The sound of the door clicking open echoed off the surrounding tall trees. I heard night birds scatter into the air. A cool breeze swept under my hair, causing goosebumps to break out all over my body. I rubbed my arms, trying to get warm.
A hand grabbed my arm. I jumped. But I wasn’t scared. I could tell by the rough palms that it was Tanner.
I wasn’t scared.
I knew I should have been . . . but the ability to feel that emotion had long gone from my soul.
I let him guide me into the safe house. The sound of the door closing behind us echoed off the stone walls. Then there was silence. Only silence, but for Tanner moving around. There were no windows. But there would be cameras to scout for anyone who dared approach. Tanner must have been familiar with this kind of setup. Maybe the Klan had these back in the US.
A dim lamp came on, illuminating the round room. My eyes adjusted to the light, and I looked around. Tanner sat behind a few monitors that I guessed were linked to the cameras outside. The blue tint from their screens shone on his face. There was blood. Tanner’s face and chest were covered in blood. And he was holding his arm that bore the bullet wound.
A few patches of non-bloodstained skin remained. I narrowed my eyes. He looked pale. Tanner Ayers was as much a fortress as the safe house that now protected us. But his clenched jaw showed his pain. And his wounded shoulder slumped as he worked to turn on the cameras.
I found the metal cabinet I was searching for on the far wall. After taking out what I’d need, I filled a bowl from the kitchenette with water. When I walked to Tanner, I saw the cameras were on. His eyes were locked on the screens, searching for any threat of enemies. I picked up the emergency cell and called my father.
“Adela?” he said, his voice as neutral as always. Alfonso Quintana could never be seen to be ruffled.
“Papa,” I said, keeping my voice strong. “We are in the safe house.”
“You and Ayers?”
“Yes.”
There was a heavy pause. “My men are handling it. You’ll be retrieved when it’s safe.”
I flicked my gaze up to Tanner. His blue eyes were on me. “And when will that be?”
“Sometime tomorrow,” my father said. I closed my eyes, but then pulled myself together. “There are guns in the usual places, princesa. If you need to use one, don’t hesitate. You’re a good shot. One of the best.”
My father hung up. The meaning of his words was not lost on me. If Tanner Ayers became a threat, I had his permission to kill him.
Tossing the cell to the table, I met Tanner’s eyes. His huge body looked too heavy for the seat he currently occupied. His white shirt was soiled with blood—I was sure it wasn’t the first time he’d had blood on his hands.
“Tomorrow,” I said as I kicked off my heels. “We’re stuck here tonight.” I saw the brief flash of anger cross Tanner’s face. But then his eyes were back on the screens. He only lasted two minutes before he glanced down at his shirt. He ripped it over his head with his good arm.
He tossed the shirt across the room. I didn’t let myself look at his torso. Instead, I took the bowl of water and rag from the desk. “Get up.” Tanner’s head snapped to me. “Get up,” I said again.
When he didn’t, I reached forward to take hold of his arm. He had hold of my wrist in less than a second. “If you think I’m letting you touch me you’re deluded,” he spat, before pushing me away.
I moved in front of him. Leaning forward, putting my hands on the arms of his seat, I lowered my face to just an inch before his. I glared into those eyes that watched me with such intensity I almost lost my breath. His nostrils were flaring and his wide tattooed chest was heaving with rage, or whatever emotion he felt when I, a lowly Mexican, was so close. “You’re covered.” I ran my finger down his face. My touch left a track mark on his skin. I wiped the blood across his chest. Then I moved my hand to the gunshot wound and pressed my finger, slowly and firmly, to the flesh.
Tanner hissed as I pressed harder. “You’re covered in the blood of my enemies.” I smiled. “It suits you, White Prince. Tell me . . .” I ran my fingertip up over his arm, slowly, gently . . . tenderly, until it reached the blood-covered pulse that was beating wildly in his neck. “How many times has it been Mexican blood on this skin?” I tipped my head to the side, watching the anger rise to redden his skin. “Blood like mine? Of my people?”
Tanner lurched forward, catching me off guard. My words and breath were cut off as he launched from the chair, hand around my neck, and drove me back into the nearest wall. My back hit the concrete, but all I could see was Tanner. See the dark tattoos of hate glaring at me, offending me. Then his face was in mine.
“Why do you keep getting in the way? Why are you always fucking in the way? Always here? Near me, with that fucking scent you always wear?” His teeth were gritted, and his mouth was so close to mine. His grip on my neck wasn’t tight, but it held me in place, showing me he could kill me if he wished it. The blue of his eyes looked like ice in the dim light, the pupils blown from anger.
And I smiled. I smiled with his fingers around my neck and his chest pinning me to the wall. His hands tightened.
“What the fuck do you find amusing—?”
“Why did you save me?” Tanner froze as I interrupted him. His blue eyes widened. I pushed my chest harder against him, my breasts scraping the bare skin of his chest. The hand around my neck started shaking, his face reddening. But I pushed harder. I kept speaking. Kept going. Kept pushing the White Prince. Because now I’d started I couldn’t stop. This man ignited the very blood that traveled through my veins. Made my heart race, not with fondness, but with anger and hate and something that gripped hold of my arteries and made me think of nothing but him and his tattoos and muscles and the unreasonable hatred he held for me in his heart. Tanner’s breathing was as heavy as mine. He shook. I shook. “Why did you kill the gunman before we had a chance to interrogate him?” I pressed my forehead to his. My breathing hitched as his warm flesh touched mine. “Because he insulted me? Because he hated me? Because he wanted me to die?”
“You piss me off,” Tanner snarled, pushing closer. So close that no air could pass between us. He could feel the heavy beating of my heart as much as I could feel the pounding of his. And I could feel the heat from the words he pushed out of his mouth. The lies that he so tragically wanted to believe were true. “I fucking hate this country. Everything about it.” His fast, anger-ridden breath splayed over my face. “But most of all, I hate you. You more than anyone I’ve ever met. You repulse me.” Tanner’s nose moved up my cheek, and I could barely breathe at the touch. “I hate your eyes, I hate your face, I hate your body.” My body, which heated so much I felt like I was on fire. I gripped his biceps, my nails stabbing into the already bloodied flesh. “I hate that motherfucking smile.” Squeezing my neck tighter, he hissed, “But most of all . . .” He took a deep breath. “Most of all . . . I fucking hate that I want you so much.”
Tanner’s lips smashed to mine. They were hard and punishing and searing. I moaned as his taste invaded my mouth—smoke and mint and leather. My hands moved up his arms until they were hooked around the back of his neck. I should have pushed him away, thrown him from me and found the gun my father gave me permission to use. I should have pressed the barrel over his heart and pulled the trigger, doing the world a favor by sending a bullet through this devil man’s black-blooded heart.
Instead, I pulled him closer. I felt his muscled body next to mine. Felt how hard he was under his jeans. “I fucking hate that I want these lips,” he growled in between kisses, never once moving his mouth away, his lips dragging across mine as he spoke. He kissed me again. “I hate that I want this body.” Tanner pushed his tongue into my mouth. My tongue battled against his as his thigh slid between my legs. I clawed at the bare skin of his back. I needed to be closer. I wanted to crawl into him. I wanted to get inside him until I possessed his very soul. “I hate that I want these tits.” His hand dropped from my neck to my breasts. My eyes rolled as fire traced through my body. “And I want this pussy.” Tanner’s hand moved between my thighs, and I cried out.
His fingers weren’t soft or gentle. Finding the edge of my panties, he ripped them from my body and tossed them to the floor. I had barely a moment’s reprieve before his fingers were rubbing against my clit. A surge of heat swept through my limbs until I felt like I was being burned alive. I sank my fingers into Tanner’s skin as his body pinned me against the wall. My eyes closed as his fingers worked me faster and faster. He thrust them up inside me, and a long moan slipped from my mouth. Tanner’s chest on mine kept me upright when my legs lost strength. But his fingers didn’t stop plunging into me. They were relentless, he was relentless. I bit my lip as I felt my orgasm build at the base of my spine. I flickered my eyes open to see Tanner’s ice-blue eyes watching me, an expression on his face I’d never seen before—hunger.
Insatiability.
Pure naked want.
I swallowed, just as his fingers pressed a spot inside me that had me breaking apart. Tanner growled low as I screamed, coming in waves, his fingers draining every ounce of pleasure from me. I was breathless as I came down from the high he’d sent me to. And I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take that he was still inside me, still pushing me and pushing me more than I could take.
“Tanner . . . I can’t . . . I can’t take anymore,” I said. I reached down and pushed his hand away. Tanner twisted his arm and in a second had my wrist in his hand. I tried to pull it away, the anger that I had momentarily lost igniting in my chest. “Let go,” I warned. My mouth tightened, then dropped open as Tanner pushed my hand between my legs. I whimpered as my hand touched my sensitive skin. My heart beat wildly. I didn’t know what he was doing. But that look in his eyes, pupils blown and focused all on me, made me want to keep going. Made me want to completely ruin the White Prince of Texas for anyone else.
Tanner guided my fingers inside me, I gasped at the action, at the way he was controlling me, making me touch myself. I moaned at the feel of my submission, of letting him overpower me. Then, with his chest still keeping me prisoner against the wall, he brought my fingers to his lips. My breathing stopped as he sucked each finger into his mouth—slowly, torturously, painstakingly—his fierce gaze never breaking from mine. My heart began beating too fast, a rapid rhythm it had never beat before. Tanner groaned, the husky sound echoing through my bones.
“Get off me,” I hissed through gritted teeth. I loathed the way he was watching me. I detested how he was making me feel—how my traitorous body responded to his touch. Then Tanner pressed against me, and I felt him. Felt how hard he was. I started shaking. My hands, my legs, my entire body. “I said get off me, Nazi.”
Tanner smiled. The first smile I had ever seen him give. If I had been breathing, the smile on his face would have robbed me of all air. But when he licked his lips, licked off the taste of me, I broke. Yanking back my hand, I struck Tanner across the face, slicing my palm across his stubbled cheek.
The sound of the slap ricocheted around the small room like thunder. Tanner’s head snapped to the side, his face covered in blood and stubble and fresh wounds. Slowly, so very slowly, he turned his head in my direction. His ice-blue eyes locked on mine. They were deathly dark and filled with something I couldn’t decipher—no, I could: it was hunger. A hunger so great it bordered on starvation. But hunger for what I didn’t know. Death, pain . . . or me. Every one of his muscles was pulled tight and bulged with veins.
His fast breathing became all I could hear. His eyes all I could see. I watched him, he watched me, the tension that was pulsing between us like a frayed rope ready to snap.
One minute I was staring into his eyes, wondering if I would ever see daylight again, the next Tanner’s hand moved to the back of my neck. His large hand swamped it; I knew it wouldn’t take any effort to snap it in two. My nails mirrored his and crawled up to his neck. I yanked his face closer to mine. Tanner’s minty breath smothered me. His face was venomous as he stared me down. His eyes offering pain and death and the promise that I wouldn’t be leaving this safe house alive.
So I smiled. I smiled and watched his skin burn with rage. Heart racing and pulse throbbing, I flicked out my tongue and softly licked along the seams of his lips. I dug my nails into his neck to steady my shaking hands. Tanner was stock still in front of me, his body like granite beneath my touch. “I can taste myself on your lips, White Prince.” I laughed and caught his nostrils flaring at the sound. Tanner’s tongue seemed to unconsciously trace the path my tongue had just made. I smiled wider, capturing his full attention. “Mmm, Señor Ayers . . . it appears you like the taste of Mexican pussy.” I moved my head forward until my face hovered just a fraction of an inch before his. “My Mexican pussy.”
Tanner froze. A tortured groan sailed from his lips as his grip tightened to a threatening hold on my neck.
I wasn’t sure whose breath flowed faster. I wasn’t sure whose heartbeat pounded faster. And I wasn’t sure who moved first, but one second we were locked in a battle of hate and tension, and the next our mouths were smashed together and our tongues met in a furious duel. All I could taste was Tanner. All I could see and feel and breathe was him.
I scratched at his skin, feeling his erection pressing against me. And I was on fire. My skin felt aflame, the room stifling, causing my dress to stick to my skin. But that didn’t matter for long. I ground against Tanner, my body taking control of my mind until I could no longer feel me, just us. Us touching and kissing, and hating each other so hard that it was all-consuming and suffocating and drawing out a need I had never felt in all my life.
Tanner’s hand dropped from my neck and yanked down the straps of my dress. The warm air kissed my skin as my breasts were bared to the room. Tanner moved back and looked down at my chest, and my nipples hardened. But a wave of insecurity wrapped around me as sure as the humidity wrapped around the room. My confidence dipped as a flicker of reality registered in my brain. I had never been in this situation before. I was a complete novice. But when Tanner growled low and insatiability shone in his eyes, reality fled, and I reached down and ripped open his jeans. A savage groan tore from Tanner’s throat, and he used his incredible strength to lift me higher against the wall until his mouth was in line with my chest. I didn’t get a single moment to prepare. Tanner’s mouth wrapped around my nipple and his tongue started flicking over the flesh. Fireworks exploded along my skin with every move of his tongue. My head fell back against the wall and I wrapped my hands around Tanner’s shaved head, holding him close so he couldn’t break away. His bare chest was scalding hot against my skin, pressing against me so I didn’t fall from the wall. He was brute strength and power all wrapped up in one offensively inked package. My clit throbbed as Tanner devoured my breasts. I shifted in his tight grip, needing to feel more. I didn’t care that I’d never been here before. Want and incredible need were driving me forward. The realizat
ion of who he was and the danger we were in only heightened the desperation of the moment. I dug my nails into his head, my pussy heating as he hissed, mouth full of my breast.
My dress slipped from my waist and fell to the floor. Tanner froze, then, keeping me pinned to the wall, gazed down at my naked body. His eyes flared and fire passed through them, so hot he could have been the devil himself. He lifted his head. Time suspended as our eyes locked. Something seemed to pass across his face. A new kind of fight . . . No, acceptance.
Caught off guard by thoughts of what that look could mean, I allowed Tanner to lower me to the floor. The world fell away until there was only me and him and this place. Even through the heat of the room, a chill broke out over my bare skin, making it bump. Tanner stepped closer and closer until his presence wrapped around me like a blanket. His forehead dropped to mine, and his breath was shaking. I caught my breath and closed my eyes. The pace of his breathing was in sync with my heart. The silence was so thick it stole the oxygen from the room . . . until Tanner rolled his head, cheek to my cheek, and whispered, “Adelita . . .”
I squeezed my eyes shut at the pain in his voice. Governed by this moment and this man who I should hate and despise yet let pin me and strip me and taste my skin, I dropped the barriers that had forever kept me safe, and whispered in return, “Tanner . . .”
Two names spoken. No pretense, no hate, no Nazis or cartel princesses . . . and it broke something in Tanner. Eyes slamming open, Tanner took my mouth. His hands were everywhere, feeling every inch of my flesh. His breathing was hard, as was his body as he pressed against me. Heart pounding and in full control, I let the final thought of protest flee my mind. And I attacked back. I dropped my hands to his jeans and pushed them down. Tanner groaned as the denim bunched at his ankles. I swallowed in trepidation as I looked down and saw his length. It was long and hard. My stomach rolled in nerves and I lost a few breaths. But when I wrapped my hand around it and watched as Tanner broke from ravishing my neck to throw back his head and hiss, a confidence I never knew I could feel settled inside me.
