by Bonnie Vanak
No matter what this girl had done, she deserved a chance. He’d seen inside her, seen what the director had told him. She was capable of good. Capable of love.
Shuttering his own emotions, he stripped her and tucked her naked into his warm bed. He waved a hand, lighting the dying fire. In the bathroom, he did a quick wash of his face, grimacing at the crusted blood. Then he joined her in bed, pulling her into his arms.
“Body heat is the best way of warming you,” he said roughly, wrapping himself around her like a snake.
Samantha buried her face into the crook of his shoulder. Her skin felt like frozen silk as he rubbed her body.
Flames in the stone hearth crackled as her cool breath feathered against his collarbone. His strokes became slow caresses as he relished her softness. She moaned and cuddled closer, her hands hooking around his neck.
She lay quietly in his arms, her shivers gradually lessening. Delicate bones felt frail beneath his big hands as he stroked the arch of her spine, the jut of a collarbone. Grayson buried his head in her hair, smelling violets and rain.
Mindful of his erection, he eased partly away. Samantha nestled closer.
“May not be a good idea. Certain parts of me aren’t exactly cold right now.”
“You said you wouldn’t force me and I believe it.”
The simple trust shattered him. He held her tight; his need for her suddenly overwhelming. The scent of her, the feel of her curves pressed against him made his cock throb and his balls tighten. He hadn’t held a woman like this in a long time. Sex consisted of him bending a woman over, and taking her quickly from behind so she couldn’t see his face. But Samantha raised her head, her gaze lingering on his disfigurement. Grayson tensed, but instead of pity, he saw curiosity and respect.
“It must have hurt like hell to scar like this.”
The tenderness in her voice made his chest ache. Needing emotional distance, he shrugged. “I deserved it. I was a bad wolf.”
“I have a hard time believing that. You have too much goodness in you.” She inched closer, pressed her mouth against the silver line hooking down his chin.
Shuddering beneath the satin texture of her lips, he stared down at her. “I’m no angel, Samantha.”
“Neither am I.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m a demon and an angel.” She gave a sour laugh. “I’m confused.”
“You’re strong, sweetheart. You’ll get through this. You have courage enough to face whatever comes next and fight your way through it.”
“I wish I had faith I could,” she whispered.
“I do.”
She took his face into her hands.
Her kiss was urgent and demanding. Grayson let her lead as she nibbled and kissed his lips. Her innocence charmed him; her desire equaled his own. As her mouth parted, he took the initiative, plunging his tongue into the moist cavern of her mouth. She tasted of sweetness and sin, and he grew heady with her scent swirling around him. Delight raced through him as she boldly stroked his tongue with her own.
When he nibbled and kissed his way down her slender throat, she explored with her hands. The crisp hairs on his chest, the pads of muscle on his stomach, and then she tunneled through the thicker hair lower and found his erect penis.
Beneath her playful grip, a strangled moan escaped him. Grayson delved his fingers between her legs, found her heat. He slid a finger across her wet cleft, making her groan in turn. She was slippery and the musky scent of arousal went straight to his groin. When he pushed a finger inside her, her hips pumped upward instinctively. She squeezed his cock.
He stopped, looked down at her passion-dazed face.
“I want you, Samantha. Now. If this isn’t what you want, then get out of my bed because there will be no going back.”
A fine tremor shook her body. The shifter holding her was rock steady. She was teetering toward a cliff, her breathing ragged, her excitement painful.
Many had called her demon, some angel. Her father playfully named her “poppet” and her sisters called her “mouse” because she hid from danger.
But none had ever called her strong or brave.
This Ancient, who guarded himself, had seen inside her, and wanted to save her. Not that she could be saved. All she’d wanted was revenge. Not now. All she craved now was closeness and the warm intimacy of this big male, his arms unyielding as iron.
Chasing away doubts, making her feel special and cherished.
Grayson was a Hunter, she was prey. His kind killed. She shouldn’t touch him, but she wanted to. The tiny bristles shadowing his jaw, the sexy indent on his chin, the hard curve of his shoulder. Samantha rubbed her thawing foot along the muscled contour of his calf, the silky hairs tickling her toes.
She wanted to mold herself to him, chase away the confusion, pain and aloneness that had been her only companions for six years. For once she wanted what everyone else knew, the physical closeness.
“I never go back,” she finally told him. “Only forward.”
Chapter Five
The kiss he gave her was tender, gentle, but the heat of his body seared hers. She’d been cold before, but now delicious warmth raced through her veins. Samantha gave in to his kisses as they became more urgent.
Her pulse jumped as he caressed her body. Electricity crackled between them with every stroke. She did not want his touch, but craved it. A harsh intake of breath came from him, as if he fought to control himself.
His eyes were dark as a cold winter day, and she could smell the sex coming off him. Her fingertips grazed the hard biceps, strayed over a puckered scar.
Dark bristles shadowing his jaw abraded her tender flesh as he kissed her neck. He took her earlobe between his teeth and softly bit, then chased away the tiny pain with a soothing kiss.
When he palmed her breasts and flicked thumbs over the cresting nipples, she whimpered with pleasure.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said hoarsely. “So lovely.”
Grayson tore back the covers, his expression fierce with intent. He slid down her body, kissing her belly, laving his tongue inside the indent of her navel. The sweep of his tongue felt like wet, rough velvet. Then he pressed her thighs apart and settled between them.
“Grayson…”
“Lie back,” he commanded. “Just relax and enjoy. I’m going to take real good care of you, sweetheart.”
She felt her soaked folds parted, felt the warmth of his tongue dive between them. The first long, slow stroke wrung a startled gasp from her.
The second had her writhing.
When he swept his tongue over her clit, she moaned. The small bud became engorged as he suckled and licked. She could smell her own arousal, taste the musk in the air.
Then he penetrated her with a long finger. Combined with the sweep of his tongue, the friction made her buck and writhe. Pressure built in her loins, sweet, hot and good. His rich, earthy scent of leather and forest wrapped around her like rope holding her captive.
Her body belonged only to each gentle thrust of his hand, each warm scrape of his tongue. Against her inner thighs, his satin hair rubbed. She needed, she wanted… Fisting her hands in the tangled sheets, she groaned. Primal instinct urged her hips up, pumping harder and harder, her pussy aching to be filled.
Pressure built in her loins, coiling in tension. So close, almost there, this thing her sisters had done, that sealed her parents together, that others had known. It felt so good. Every thought centered on the man wickedly sliding his tongue between her soaked cleft, the exquisite sensation inside her.
She felt herself opening like a flower, a tiny bud exposed to the sunlight. Her very being rushed to her loins, every single thought scrambled as primal instinct urged her forward.
And then he moved, a deft flick, and the tension released. Samantha felt a gush between her legs, a burst of light exploding. Her body quivered and spasmed, a hoarse scream of his name wringing from her throat.
He kept delivering soothing strokes until
the last of the spasms quieted. Utterly spent, sweat drenched her body, and she felt her fingers gradually loosen their grip on the damp sheets.
Grayson sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. Tenderness shone in his gaze, the pupils darkening the blue until it was nearly black. He placed a single, sweet kiss on her belly.
Then he parted her legs and settled between them. As he did, he surged forward, that hard, impatient length of him nudging at her folds. Samantha wriggled, equally impatient.
He pushed in a little, stretching her.
She twisted upward and he thrust hard. The pain caught her unexpectedly. She cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
Grayson held still, looking down at her. Gradually she moved, the stretching feeling now uncomfortable, not burning.
He pulled back a little. Pushed forward. The feeling surprised her.
“Like that?” he asked with a small smile.
“Do it again.”
“As you wish.”
A delicious friction began, eliminating the discomfort. Samantha wriggled experimentally. He moved, surging forward, slamming against her, their flesh slapping together, the scent of sex and lust salting each motion.
Thick inside her, his cock scraped against her quivering tissues. Filling her, stretching her completely, sealing them together. Grayson raised himself up as he deepened the thrusts.
“Fuck,” he said, groaning. “Ah, fuck, you feel so damn good, so sweet.”
The sweet pleasure built again, growing tight. Samantha gripped his biceps, feeling something deeper and darker build with each stroke.
“Come on, sweetheart, come for me again,” he urged. “Come for me, Samantha.”
The motion of his hips shifted as he rubbed against her clit. The push-pull combination began building the pleasure all over. Tension coiled inside her, sharp and sweet. She moved her hips upward, moving with him in unison, exquisitely tuned to this man who possessed her with such pleasure. The pressure built in her loins once more and she arched, crying out.
He murmured something to her, whispering encouragement and her body became taut as a bowstring. With his next thrust, she dug her nails into his arms, screaming his name as something dark and sinful burst from her.
Grayson tensed and then his big body bucked. With a hoarse shout of her name, he shook, his warm seed jetting inside her. His penis grew harder and thicker.
Collapsing atop her, he pillowed his head on her shoulder. Hot breaths feathered against the damp coolness of her neck. After a while, he lifted his head with a smile of pure masculine satisfaction. The conqueror who’d captured his prize.
When he’d parted their bodies, she expected distance and emotional space. But instead, he kissed her temple, tasting the salt of her body. He licked the dampness from her skin, his tongue wonderfully warm and soothing. His tongue lapped away the moisture.
Samantha curled into his arms when he finished, the cold air stealing over her body. She lay in his arms, sleepy and sated. Sore in some places, tender in others, her body felt well-loved. There wasn’t an inch Grayson had ignored. He rested his chin atop her head.
Love. Wrong word. Sex wasn’t love and she had no heart left. The demon had filled it with blackness, chinked up the shattered remnants with the quest to kill. Love died the day her mother gasped her last breath.
The thought sent a chill chasing back into her body. She shivered. Grayson tugged the covers over them, and stroked her hair as her eyes closed.
As she fell into a dreamless sleep, she felt slightly empty inside, as if something had been yanked from her very soul.
Must be my imagination, she thought.
Chapter Six
Cold air brushed over Samantha’s bare skin as she stirred, trying to gauge her surroundings. Dying coals lay in a stone hearth. She felt wonderfully alive and rested and free for the first time in weeks. Lighter, as if a heavy burden had lifted. The soft morning light peeped through a crack in the curtains.
Wriggling her toes, she glanced down and realized she was naked. Strange. She’d always slept with her clothes on, just in case she had to make a quick exit.
A warm, hairy thigh tangled with hers. Panic shot through her. Raising herself up on an elbow, she stared down.
And remembered.
A muscled backside and the tautness of firm buttocks faced her. Grayson lay amid the covers, fast asleep. Light spilled onto the curve of his unmarked cheek, glinted in the tousled locks of his black hair. He radiated heat like a furnace, keeping her feeling warm and safe.
Her body felt wonderfully sore and alive. A soft smile creased her face. It had been paradise. Something amazing had happened between them. A bond forged, like that between a wolf and his mate. They’d made love…no, had sex.
Sex. Purely physical. No mate. No bond. Couldn’t be.
Samantha jammed a hand through her tousled hair. Well, Grayson warned that they had to be lovers for the Society to drop the hunt against her. It was done. Now she must seize the advantage, get out while he was asleep. No wind raged against the windows. The storm had stopped.
Samantha gently tugged her leg, but Grayson had hooked his muscled limb around it. She lay down, wriggling free, but then he rolled over, snagging an arm around her waist, anchoring her to the mattress. Frustrated, she yanked away.
His eyes flew open. No heat flared there, not even the amusement she’d come to expect. Instead they were watchful and hard as gray steel.
“Going somewhere? And here I thought you’d stay a while, seeing we have a connection now.”
“There’s no connection. It was just sex, nothing else.”
The lie sounded false even to her. He’d been her first, and she could never forget him, or this night.
A warm male palm skimmed down the arch of her back, coaxing a shudder of pleasure. He cupped her hip, then slid over the curve of her ass. He squeezed lightly, pressed a finger between her legs. Samantha couldn’t help her groan of pleasure. Even now, in the cold dawn light, he made fire come into her body.
“Just sex?” He leaned over, his expression intent. “Maybe we should make sure.”
She expected a quick, hard coupling. Instead, he took his time, savoring her body. Tasting her, his tongue lapping over her reddened nipples. She explored as well, testing the hard muscles of his arms, the sinew and tendons, running her fingers through the dark, springy hairs of his chest.
Delighting in his moan of pleasure as she pinched his nipples. Samantha squeezed his ass, slid a finger between his cheeks. Toyed with the pucker of his anus, grinning as he shuddered with pleasure.
He’d claimed her body and she’d been too dazed with the newness, the sensations. Now with the confidence of a well-pleasured woman, she explored her lover. He harbored the fierce, single-minded intensity of a Hunter, coupled with a tender consideration. Samantha hummed as her palms slid down the flatness of his belly, molded to his narrow hips, testing the jut of bone and flesh. His body was so different from hers, strong and muscled and powerful.
Beneath her interested gaze, his penis twitched. The nest of thick, dark hair surrounding it was damp with heat. She leaned down, grasped him with her hands. Veins roped the thick shaft and she traced one with her finger.
The head was round, seeping a single droplet. She licked it off, enjoying the salty taste, and his gasp of pleasure. Carefully she cupped the spongy testicles, and squeezed lightly. Then she took him into her mouth.
His strangled moans echoed in the stillness of the room to the movement of her mouth. Arousal and anticipation made up for her lack of expertise. Samantha grazed her teeth along the shaft as his hands curled on her shoulders.
With a strangled moan, he pulled himself free. “Enough,” he said thickly.
He rolled over, pinning her beneath him. Moisture surged between her thighs as he nudged himself between them. Grayson entered her slowly, his gaze luminous as he took her. His body was hard and straining as she wrapped her legs around his hips, locking th
em together. Rocking slowly, he created a delicious rhythm. In less than six strokes, she came, bucking wildly as he shuddered and cried out as well.
For a while they lay together, spent, the cool air washing over the sweat on their bodies. Then he stirred and looked at the hearth with amusement. “Time to light a different fire. It’s getting cold in here.”
“I’ll do it. I am expert at starting fires.” She sat up, stretched out her hands.
Nothing happened.
A little alarmed, she tried again. Nothing. Not even a glimmer of flame. Panic surged through her. She reached for the darkness, the strength that helped her endure.
It was gone.
“What did you do to me?” she whispered.
Grayson’s expression tightened. The scar on his face went taut and white. He held out a hand, clenched it into a fist.
When he opened it, a small ball of black mist danced on his palm.
“When we were together, I removed your dark powers.”
He blew at it and the mist vanished. “They’re inside me now. It’s why the Society wanted us to mate. I’m strong enough to absorb evil and eradicate it.”
Samantha groped for her dark powers. Nothing. The demon rage that fueled her strength had vanished. Don’t panic. He’s lying. Maybe it’s dormant for now, just needs a wake-up call, like you need a strong cup of coffee in the A.M.
His gaze remained sharp, watchful.
Cold rage filled her. She welcomed the fury. “You took away my demon, my strength, you bastard. It enabled me to come this far without collapsing.” She drew in a breath, trembling with emotion. “You stole my power when I was most vulnerable.”
“I had no choice,” he said quietly. “If I didn’t, you’d be dead.”
He picked up her wrist, ran a thumb over it. “When I brought you into the Society, they implanted a thermal detonator. It was timed to go off this morning at the first surge of demon power. It sends an electrical pulse straight to your heart. Not enough to kill, but weaken so you can’t fight back. The Hunters they’d send would finish you off. Slowly, ripping you to shreds.”
