He’d never seen her hands before, he realized. They should have been soft, but they were bruised and scarred. Despite the barrier she always wore, calluses littered her palm and her nails were chipped.
Again she tried to tug away.
Again he held firm.
“Stop staring,” she said, shifting uncomfortably.
“Why? I like what I’m looking at.”
“Right, because they’re so beautiful.”
“They are. Actually, they’re beyond beautiful.” And that was the truth. Her hands spoke of hard work and a strength of character possessed by few. He placed a kiss on each of her knuckles, realized he should have waited until he knew whether or not she’d drain him, then released her.
She watched him through widening eyes.
“Touch me,” he commanded.
“You...you trust me not to purposely take from you, just to escape your room?”
“I do.”
“But why? I just tried to bash your skull with a vase. And what if I take from you accidentally, huh? What then?”
He shrugged. “What happens will happen. We have to know what we’re dealing with.”
Even more adamant, she shook her head. “No. I’m not going to risk you.”
Did she have any idea how telling those words were? “Either touch me, or I’ll leave you in this room and go find Synda. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind—”
With a shriek of anger, Tink jumped to her knees and slapped her hands against his cheeks. “You are such a jerk, and you deserve whatever happens.”
He wanted to laugh. But he couldn’t. They were skin-to-skin, heat-to-heat, and all he had to do to get her underneath him was lean forward. She’d fall back, unable to maintain her balance, and he’d stretch out. It would take him two seconds to strip her. Two more to strip himself.
One more to get inside her.
The painting hanging over the headboard shook, fell. Its frame broke.
“Are you good?” Tink asked, too intent to notice the destruction.
Disaster spewed a stream of hateful curses, as loud as ever.
“I am.”
“You’re sure?”
“I am,” he repeated. “You can stop now.”
Relieved, she lowered her arms—but the relief didn’t last long. He tore his shirt over his head. “What are you doing?” she demanded, her eyes instantly riveted to his chest.
“Now let’s see what happens when you’re distracted.”
“What? No! Put your shirt back on. You’re...you’re...so sexy.” The last ended with a dreamy sigh. “Uh, I mean...uh...”
“No take-backs.” He smirked as he took her hands and placed them on his pecs. The sensation was almost too much. He groaned. She moaned. “Ready for stage two?”
“There’s more?” she breathed.
“Oh, yes.” So much more.
He should resist, but he wasn’t going to. Every second in her presence was a torture with only one cure. Here, now, with her scent in his nose, an obvious hunger for him in her eyes, she could give it to him.
Mine. He lowered his head slowly, taking his time, savoring every moment, before pressing his lips into hers. Her mouth opened immediately, welcoming him, and he swept his tongue inside. Her intoxicating taste invaded his senses, and all thoughts of leisure were abandoned. Need he’d denied far too long roared to the surface. He was a starving man, desperate to devour.
Driven by instinct, he leaned and she fell back on the mattress, just as he’d imagined. He pressed his weight into the softness of her sweet little body, and pinned her down. In this position, no part of them remained disconnected from the other.
“Kane,” she gasped out.
“Tinker Bell.”
He forced her head to tilt, taking more. Giving more. This time, bad memories were kept at bay. And there was no pain in the action—no pain at all, he realized, not that he would have cared. This woman...she chased the darkness away, showed him pleasure and light. Beauty.
Mine. She’s mine. I keep what’s mine.
They’d started this for a reason—why had they started this?
Her fingertips glided down the length of his spine; her nails scraped back up, sending waves of pleasure through—wait, yes, her hands. “You must have instinctively built mental barriers. You’re not draining me.”
“Keep checking. Just to be sure.” Distracted words. She opened her legs to him, providing a cradle for his aching shaft—want her, want her so bad—and he fell into it, pressing intimately against her. Hissing at the utter pleasure. So perfect. He couldn’t stay still, was already moving against her, rubbing, seeking.
She moaned with breathless excitement and clutched at him. Innocent, he reminded himself. She’d never had this. He had to be careful with her.
But he wasn’t careful as he kneaded her breasts, or when he reached between their bodies to cup her between the legs and rub, hard, harder, because she didn’t seem to want careful. The more demanding his touch, the louder her cries of abandon. He lost his finesse, was nothing more than an animal nipping and pawing at her.
He bit the cord at her neck, and she shuddered.
“Yes! Again,” she demanded.
He obeyed. Every nerve in his body cried for satisfaction—to give her satisfaction. This woman...oh, this woman. She’d been made for him, only him.
She arched against him. She scratched at his back all over again. She squeezed his hips with her knees. Then...she palmed his length.
Going to lose something else...
“This all right?” she asked.
“Better than.”
This should stop, before he pushed them both past the point of no return.
Stop.
No, he still couldn’t stop.
He’d wanted this for so long...too long. To walk away now...no, he would rather die.
“Please,” she rasped. “Do more to me.”
“Yes.” His fingers trembled as he jerked at the hem of her shirt. He had to strip her. Had to taste every inch of her. Had to prove she belonged to him, that they belonged together, and no one and nothing could ever tear them apart.
The hollow of her stomach...perfection. Her breasts...exquisite, just as he remembered. He was utterly snared, couldn’t tear his gaze away.
Then she moved her legs, planting her feet at his sides and bending her knees.
The panties had to go.
Disaster shook the walls of the bedroom, maybe the entire palace. Suddenly furniture was rattling, and a chair was toppling over. Kane was too lost to care. Such a lush, ripe female. Perfect in every way.
And if you take her, then marry her sister?
The thought swept through his mind, springing from a conscience he’d thought had been murdered. He brushed it aside. He would make sure she liked everything that happened, that she never had any regrets, that she—
Suffers with shame and guilt.
That thought was too shattering to ignore. He couldn’t take her, he realized like a harsh slap in the face. Not here. Not now. Not like this, with things left unsaid and unplanned.
Frustrated, he smoothed down her shirt and jolted upright. His body screamed a protest, his every cell rejecting the separation from her. He punched the headboard. Wood shards rained.
Tink gasped with surprise. “K-Kane? What’s wrong?”
His shame rose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
At least the shaking had stopped, Disaster calming.
“Did I drain you and not realize?” she asked.
“No.” Remaining on his side, facing her, he lay down. “The demon was acting up.” Despite the pain of unsatisfied lust, there was no underlying ache—but there was a surprising underlying wave of contentment.
“I want to go to my room now,” she said hollowly.
Or maybe not. “You’re staying here. You’re sleeping here. That’s not up for discussion.”
“You don’t get to decide what’s up for discussion and what’s n
ot.” Her voice had a bite to it.
“I do get to tie you to the bed if you even think about leaving.”
She closed her eyes, hiding the anguish he’d just glimpsed inside their depths. “You are so confusing! One second you’re all over me, the next you’re pulling away. I shouldn’t have kissed you, I admit that. Ultimately, your circumstances haven’t changed. In fact, they’re worse. I asked if you planned to marry Synda and you refused to answer.”
If the situation had been different—if he planned to marry Synda for any reason other than to save Tink—he would have agreed. “I thought it might prove necessary.” Yes, he’d entertained the notion of going through with the marriage to Synda, and yes, it was still an option, but just then, with Tink’s taste in his mouth and her warmth enveloping him, he knew it wasn’t an option he would ever be able to take. “I was wrong.”
He would think of something else. He would.
One of the wood shards had caught on the bed railing and now fell into his eye. He hissed.
Kane tilted back his head and poked around until he found and removed the tiny sliver.
Hatred for Disaster burned that much deeper.
“Is there anything you’re sure of?” Tink asked quietly.
He was sure he was tired of pretending. Tired of thoughts and memories and fears and indecision and...everything but this girl. “I’m sure we both need some rest.” Before Disaster caused her harm. “We’ll talk about this later.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“GUESS WHAT? IT’S LATER.”
Kane looked around. Josephina stood at the side of the bed, surrounded by the same glittering white mist he’d seen in the dark alley beside the club. “Did you project yourself into my mind again? Even though you’re right next to me?”
Wait. She was next to him, wasn’t she?
He patted the space beside him, and sure enough, the heat of her caressed his hands.
She raised her chin, probably trying for haughty but only managing adorable. “Would you be angry if I pleaded guilty?”
“You’d already be over my knee if I were angry.”
An amused gleam danced in her eyes. “You would not spank me.”
“Are you sure you want to challenge me on this topic?”
She held up her palms and backed away from him. “No, no. Not me. I’d never do something like that.”
He laughed and waved her back, the sense of being carefree astonishing him. “Why not just talk to me in person?”
“Three reasons. I’m impatient. Our real bodies are clearly exhausted right now. And Disaster can’t hurt me here.”
“Way to bury the lead,” he said with a smile. “Who else have you invaded like this?”
“My mother.” She offered him a sad little smile. “Before she gave me the ability forever, I accidentally took it a few times.”
Curious, he said, “Why not use it with others?”
“There’s no one in this realm I want to talk to, and no one who wants to talk to me.”
Always breaking my heart. “Well, don’t invade anyone else.” He didn’t like the idea of her being this intimately involved with another.
She stuck out her tongue. “Whatever you say, Dad.”
He tsked, sitting up. “Careful. That’s an invitation to a guy like me.”
“What is? The action or the insult?”
“Both.”
She opened her mouth, and he suspected—hoped—she meant to issue a verbal invitation. But all she said was “Kane?”
The muscles in his stomach jumped as if she’d caressed him. “Yes.” He threw his legs over the side of the bed.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.” She paced in front of him. “It’s kind of personal.”
Dread rolled through him. “I told you, you can ask me anything.”
She stopped, motioned to his hip. “Why a butterfly?”
Okay, that one was easy. He stood—but somehow left his body behind.
He frowned. “What just happened?”
“Uh, I think you just projected your image. Like I’m doing.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
Were they bonded on some deep, primal level? Her abilities becoming his? Or, had she left a piece of herself behind when she’d taken Disaster from him?
She reached out, tracing her fingers along the curve of the wing stretching above the waist of his pants. “Like this, I can feeeel you.”
Instant. Hard-on. “And I can feel you,” he croaked.
“The butterfly...” she prompted with a shiver.
Right. “My friends and I have our theories, and none are the same.”
“I want to hear yours.” Her knuckles brushed against his navel, and he had to fight the urge to grab her hand...to force it to go lower.
“Inside a chrysalis, a caterpillar breaks down into imaginal cells. Those cells put themselves back together in a new shape and the creature emerges as a butterfly. Once, I was a warrior. Then the demon came, and I was broken down and reshaped into something else. Something dark and twisted.”
Her gaze found his. “But you and the demon aren’t one being. You’re separate.”
“Not yet, but we will be,” he said, unable to hide his determination. Before she could question him further, he offered his hand to her.
“What?” she asked, confused.
“Take it.”
A moment passed before she twined their fingers.
He remained quiet, easing forward into a slow walk around the room. She kept pace beside him, the mist constantly swirling and dancing with their motions. He enjoyed the peace and tranquility. “How does this ability of yours work? You projected your image into my mind, but do you control everything I see?”
“For the most part, yes.”
“Show me.”
“What would you like to see?”
“The best you’ve got.”
She cut him a look of determined delight. “Prepare to be amazed by my amazingness.” Rubbing her hands together, she closed her eyes. A moment later, a forest of lush green trees took the place of the room. A mutant dog-monkey hybrid materialized on one of the branches, swinging toward him and throwing an apple at his head.
He dodged, but not quickly enough. The red fruit hit his shoulder, causing Tink to chuckle.
“You’re in trouble now,” he said.
“Oh, dear, oh, no. Are you going to give me that spanking?” she gasped out with mock fear—and another apple slammed into his shoulder. “Or is the mean warrior going to give me a very stern lecture?”
Kane released a low snarl, as fake as her fear. “I’ll give you a lecture all right.”
She giggled as she raced forward, throwing over her shoulder, “You’ll have to catch me first.”
That giggle...as much as he wanted to kiss and touch her again, he wanted to hear that giggle more. He darted after her, chasing her around thick trunks and other mutant animals she’d thought up. The cat-deer. The squirrel-wasp. The elephant-zebra. He almost caught her, and she giggled again; he laughed.
He wasn’t sure whether or not they were ghosting through walls, or still inside his bedroom, and he didn’t care. He’d never acted like a child. He’d never been a child. He’d come into this world fully formed, a vessel meant for war and vengeance. Then, after the Pandora’s box debacle, he’d become a container for evil—and his weeks in hell had only increased the darkness inside him. Until Tink, he’d never been anything more; he’d never known light.
“You can’t catch me I’m the muffin man,” she called.
“Gingerbread.”
“Are we saying random foods now? Cupcakes.”
He was shaking with laughter when next he caught her, and she managed to slip away.
“Poor Kane,” she called, and he could tell she was struggling not to pant from exertion. “Too old to keep up with such a young Fae?”
Pumping his arms and legs faster, he increased his pace until
he was practically breathing down her neck. She released a laughing scream when he grabbed her by the waist and spun her around.
“Think I’m too old now?” he asked.
“You’re thousands of years old. Of course you’re too old.”
“Yeah, but am I too old for you?”
“I have daddy issues. No one’s too old for me.”
He choked on another laugh. “You are the oddest mix of innocence and modern sass.”
A pause as insecurity filled her eyes, then, “Too odd for you?” she asked hesitantly.
“Absolutely perfect for me,” he admitted. A man could get used to this. A man could get addicted to this.
Too bad it wouldn’t last. Not for Kane.
He settled her on the ground and stretched out beside her, wondering if the pain would make another appearance. He knew Disaster hadn’t given up, so why the lack?
“Thank you, Tinker Bell,” he said.
“For what?”
“For...being you.”
* * *
KANE WOKE UP gradually, his mind coming to the slow realization that there was something soft and warm intertwined with his limbs—and he hadn’t been plagued by nightmares, but had actually slept. The scent of rosemary enveloped him. He blinked open his eyes, disrupting the haze, and spied the culprit. His mouth lifted in a leisurely grin.
This was the life he craved for himself. A beautiful woman he admired, respected—hungered for—wrapped around him, her head resting on his arm, her bare hands on his chest, and one of her legs propped on his hip.
Tink’s features were stunningly relaxed, and there was a soft, pink color in her cheeks. He wasn’t sure how she kept ending up in his arms, but he would have loved to know.
He smoothed the hair from her face. She leaned into the touch and smacked her lips. Lips he’d tasted last night.
Lips he wanted to taste again...
He leaned into her, preparing to do just that. The moment he realized where this was headed, he froze. Yesterday he’d stopped, knowing Tink would hate herself if she had sex with a man currently engaged to another woman.
But he’d since realized the truth. He couldn’t marry Synda. Not for any reason.
He was going to have Tink.
He might regret it. She would definitely regret it. A sweet man would walk away now.
Gena Showalter - [Lords of the Underworld 13] Page 22
