by Kiersten Fay
Solemnly, he said, “Be careful.”
At the door, she gave him an impish smile. Then, in a faux-serious tone, said, “It’ll be hairy, what with the long three-foot trek, potential splitters, and razor-sharp snowflakes”—she placed the back of her hand on her forehead and sighed—“but somehow I’ll manage.”
He couldn’t keep his frown. He liked that her mood was improving with hints of playfulness in her personality. “Just stay aware of your surroundings. And be quick about it.”
She gave him a two fingered salute and disappeared.
Moments later, she had several small logs stuffed into the firebox. But then, with a halting look, she began a thorough examination of the stove’s exterior.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I don’t suppose you know how to start a flame on one of these things?”
Ah. She was searching for an ignition spark. “It doesn’t have one.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Guess we’re going caveman style. Any idea how to make fire?”
He hated sending her back outside, but he didn’t see another way. “We’ll need some tinder and kindling. Is there a flint anywhere by you?”
She glanced around and plucked up bent steel object from next to the stove.
“Good. We’ll also need a sharp-edged rock, specifically white or marbled in color. A darker, almost black stone might work as well. Grab several and I’ll look them over.”
When she dashed back outside, he swallowed an anxious lump that did not vanish until she pushed through the door with the requested items. She dumped them at the base of the stove before, in turn, holding up the rocks for his inspection. He nodded toward one that looked promising. “Smash it with one of the bigger rocks to break it apart. That will give you a sharp edge.”
After that, he instructed her how to place the kindling and tinder, then how to strike the flint against the rock to generate a spark.
It took several attempts, but eventually the scent of burning wood filled the room. Cora leaned back and swiped her hand along her forehead, smiling at him triumphantly.
She had a gorgeous smile, and for a moment he was completely arrested. Her grin turned to a curious glance before a bit of pink colored her cheeks, making him wonder if she sensed the way of his thoughts, how badly he wanted to kiss her again.
She shifted to arrange the remaining firewood into a neat little stack by the stove, avoiding eye contact with him.
Soon enough there was an orchestral of snapping and popping from the fire, and the temperature in the small space rose by degrees.
When he could finally stand, after having refused Cora’s help several more times, he shucked off his shirt and moved himself to the rutty mattress.
As he went, he felt Cora’s eyes on him. Intensely so. No more humor. No more smiles. Something else entirely had fallen over her.
——
Cora stood ramrod stiff.
In a matter of seconds, carnal desire roused within her.
She clasped her hands in a tight ball, mentally shaking away the images that invaded her mind. Oh, why had he gone and displayed all that rippling muscle? All that taut, smooth skin, not quite pale, but not fully tanned either. She shivered at the thought of running her fingers over every thick cord, every chiseled valley.
She never used to be so easily enticed, but it seemed a show of skin and a simple smile from him was doing the trick.
On the mattress, he settled on his side, facing her. Something in his expression said he’d swiftly deciphered the battle raging inside her.
Since they’d escaped, her emotions had been all over the place, from her mind being pinpoint focused on survival to reckless need. She wasn’t used to the sharp turnaround in her desires. Was all this blood and magic changing her? Making her into some sort of wanton creature. Or was the doctor’s vile elixir still screwing with her system?
“Cora?” Bray’s raspy plea skittered over her like a physical touch, invoking another delicious shiver. Heat poured down to the tips of her toes. She grasped for the control she’d had just moments ago. Where had it fled?
During the clambering night in Bray’s arms, Cora remembered being on the verge of a breakdown. Her emotions mayhem. All that they’d been through billowing like a foul cesspool that threatened to engulf her. Thanks to his calmness, his confident and reassuring words, she’d managed to suppress the rage, the sorrow, the tears, the urge to scream, the desire to lose herself in the very man before her. Managed to keep it together…
Until now.
It seemed with no more tasks to complete, nothing for her mind to focus on, those very same emotions threatened to redouble, the horror of her ordeal rearing up like a punch to the base of her skull.
Her mind was offering two options. Sink into a heap of puffy-eyed, floor-rocking, tears, or sink into Bray.
Just as before, and throughout these last few weeks, he was her only mark of stability. Her rock. It was as if the world around her was a blur, and Bray was the only thing in focus.
A fact that frightened the shit out of her.
Her mind grappled for purchase.
When she took a step back, rather than forward, Bray’s expression turned pained.
“I’m not thinking clearly,” she rushed out, swiping a trembling finger over her temple. Her heart shimmied in her chest. He had to sense how out of whack she was.
Together, they had gone through something intense, ghastly, and horrific. Something that had forced them into a quick friendship and shaky alliance—perhaps not all that shaky.
In such a short time, and mostly out of necessity, they had grown dearly close. She cared for him now almost as much as she cared for Mace.
That didn’t mean they could behave like animals.
By degrees, he nodded. “I don’t want you to feel pressure to do anything you don’t want to. Would you prefer I take the floor? Be assured, at this point, sleep in any horizontal position will do me well, and I’m not picky.”
Appalled, she said, “Like I would make you sleep on the floor after everything you’ve gone through.”
“Well, I’ll not allow you to take the floor,” he added. “Not when there’s plenty of room for the both of us here. We can just rest till it’s time to leave.” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “But Cora, when your decision is made, either way, I implore you to stick with it.”
He wasn’t talking about their sleeping arrangements. The muscles in his throat worked hard. A wave of fierce longing forced Cora back another step. Her subconscious tight walked the chasm of loneliness that, in a way, still bound Bray to that dark, cruddy cell where part of his soul was still trapped and tormented.
In an anguished tone, he added, “Do not show me heaven, just to turn me away at the gate.”
Reason scrambled from her and all she wanted to do—needed to do—was melt into this man’s arms, into his lonely messed up heart which mirrored her own.
The urge to ease him, to ease them both, was undeniable. And in the darkness of her soupy mind, she knew the choice she was about to make—had already made—would change everything.
Chapter 28
Bray let out a mental roar of triumph as Cora crawled onto the bed next to him with unconcealed lust in her gaze. He wasted no time in pulling her close and clutching her to him. The feel of her in his arms released a tension he hadn’t realized had built in his shoulders.
Her agile fingers found his chest, ardently exploring. His breath stunted at her caress and he couldn’t suppress a shudder.
She was so soft, gentle, feminine. Her scent invaded him, calling to the animal inside. But he couldn’t show her that part of himself. Not yet. She was still hesitant. Cautious. Ready to scramble away at the first offence. He should allow her to lead.
Yet he couldn’t keep his hands from wrapping around her possessively. His shaft pulsed, straining for her. He palmed the small of her back as if some part of him thought to keep her from escaping, though she m
ade no indication that she would.
He cupped her face and leaned in. When their lips met, he was served an irrefutable truth that would forever redefine him.
In the doctor’s bunker, the humans had attempted to brand him like cattle. It never took, but he recalled the pain, the temporary mark…
Cora’s kiss, so tender and sweet, was infinitely more permanent.
He would die for this woman.
Years of surviving on the brink, and he would sacrifice it all for but a single night of her attentions. Yet he instinctively knew he would always crave more.
He dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her under him. She gave a small cry that was part surprise, part approval. Her eyes were wide yet filled with the fire of her arousal, and her breaths had sped to shallow heaves, making the swells of her breasts rise and fall underneath the thin fabric of her shirt.
A bit more savagely than he’d intended, he claimed her mouth with his, pushing past the soft barrier of her lips with his tongue. She opened readily, kissing him back with equal ferocity. Her nails dug into his scalp as if to hold him in place. He took that as a hint that perhaps she wouldn’t mind a little animal.
Although she trembled slightly.
It was possible she didn’t know what she wanted.
Vaguely, he realized this whole interlude could be an attempt to divert her mind from the events of the past few weeks. But if that’s what she needed, he’d gladly oblige.
In all honesty, his own needs ran the same lines. After so many years of isolation, he was desperate for this. Desperate for the touch of another. Desperate for connection. The fact that he was sharing a bed with a beautiful witch-goddess…well, icing meet cake.
His hand sought the hem of her shirt and the heat of her skin hidden underneath. She jerked a little as he grazed the soft flesh of her belly. Shakily, she sucked in a small gasp as if he was affecting her just as much she was him.
That miniscule sound had his fangs lengthening. Their eyes locked. Her expression turned even more wonton.
That had him fighting to keep control.
He nearly drove his fangs directly into the beckoning vein at her neck, but he didn’t want to rush her. This wasn’t like those times when he was drugged, being force-fed, or like earlier, when Cora had offered him blood out of duty, to keep him alive. This was different. Precarious. Right now she seemed so frail, so ready to shatter. She was like a lamb in the grip of a lion. Or maybe that was just his perception. She’d been fierce enough back in the doctor’s lair, using that wicked power to take her revenge. Wrath and beauty coming together in perfect unison.
He trailed his hand up from the curve of her hip toward her rib cage, letting her get used to his touch without over extending his invitation. Her pulse hammered, succulent and strong. At the same time her hands were learning every inch of his torso, front to back, as if she couldn’t get enough of touching him. He couldn’t get enough of it either. His nerve endings nearly sizzled in her wake.
“Let’s get this off, yeah?” He tugged her shirt up, and she shimmied to help him remove it.
As it fluttered to the ground, he was riveted by the sight of her plump breasts. The dusky peaks straining for his attention. He ran his palm over one and they both shuddered. Then he leaned in to suck the beaded nipple between his lips.
Her back arched, indicating her approval, so he sucked a little harder till she lightly moaned.
As he continued working her with his tongue, his free hand maneuvered over her body, making her squirm with need.
As if she could take no more, she claimed his wrist and guided him where he most wanted to feel her. He breached the waistline of her scrubs and groaned at finding her damp.
So damn ready.
He swirled his finger over her clitoris, enthralled by her bliss-filled expression, her desperate cries as pleasure encroached. She bucked her hips, seeking a faster rhythm, but he didn’t want her coming just yet. At least not like this.
He lingered a moment longer, before reclaiming his hand. Before she could protest his absence, he trapped her gaze while slowly undoing the tie of her scrubs. She bit her lip, anticipation bursting through their bond. It flooded him, coaxing him to hurry. But there was no way he was going to rush this. He would savor every feverish sound, every tender touch, every luscious taste.
As he expertly caressed her scrubs past her delicate hips, something like apprehension took up residence behind her eyes, and guilt seeped into his subconscious. Damn, she was starting to mentally retreat. Probably thinking about Mace.
Jealousy surged.
It was possible Bray was taking this too slow.
Not wanting to relinquish his prize, he positioned himself between her legs and lowered his mouth to explore the folds of her exquisite sex. Guilt melted away, replaced by sharp pleasure. She let out a soft moaned for him as his tongue made ruthless swirls.
“Bray,” she whimpered. “Oh, goddess!” Her hips undulated, frenzied, demanding more from him. Without hesitation, he gave her what she needed, laving her with almost mindless relish. Her delectable taste coated his tongue, inundating him.
His shaft jerked painfully, screaming to be inside her. Instead, he delved with his tongue, making her head thrash with the onset of her orgasm. Heightening her pleasure, he twirled around her sex once more. Her spine arched as she cried out, panting and gasping.
Her release tore through him like a hot blade, and he had to steady himself from the wave of ecstasy that wasn’t his.
Holy hell!
He could quite possibly go mad if he didn’t feel that again.
He shoved his pants off and positioned his shaft at her entrance, urgency clouding his mind and making his movements jerky.
Blearily, she glanced up at him, half drugged from her powerful release, but her eyes sparkled with something he wasn’t willing to acknowledge in this moment.
He entered her on a groan, shoving to the hilt.
Unadulterated bliss swiped away thought, blanking his mind of everything but the carnal urge to thrust. Plunging deeper, his breath failed him as an astounding level of rapture made it impossible to suck in the proper amount of air. The pleasure of her soft flesh was so acute it bordered on agony—merciless, severe…and esoterically profound. Concentrated bliss, so physically overwhelming, he felt as though he’d been marked.
Was this the bond? Or was it her?
His mind tried to bend around the concept as his body began to move at a punishing pace.
She moaned again, taking everything he had to give her and funneling it back into him.
“Christ,” he rasped, as his muscles seized.
Ecstasy wrapped around him like the coils of a great boa, squeezing him until he didn’t think he could take any more, yet not wanting to it to end.
Too much!
Not enough!
She cried out a husky oath, running her nails along his back. She was feeling it too. The walls of her sex convulsed around him, milking him. His release blasted his vision into white-hot sparks, blinding him for several seconds.
When he came to, he hovered over her on shaky arms, gasping as though he’d run a triathlon and had barely crawled over the finish line.
Using the last of his strength, he rolled to the right and pulled her onto his chest. “If I’d have known you were to be my reward, I’d have gladly spent another five years in that dungeon with a winning smile on my face.”
——
Pleasure continued to crash over her in languid, yet insistent waves, even as she cringed.
His words were too sweet. By far sweeter than she deserved. Her eyes blurred. She sniffed against the tightening of her throat.
He tensed and glanced down at her in horror. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she mumbled. “You were perfect.”
He wiped away a stray tear on her cheek, growing more concerned. “Don’t cry, my angel.”
“I’m no angel,” she choked out in disgust. “I’m awful. I j
ust betrayed Mace.”
Bray went silent for a time. He seemed to be contemplating the correct words to alleviate her guilt, as if that were even possible. And even if such words existed, she didn’t deserve them.
He tucked her back to his side. “After what we’ve been through, anyone would crave a little…distraction. If Mace loves you as you say, he will understand. And if he doesn’t, it’s his loss. I don’t mind having you all to myself.”
Her stomach did a wuh-oh flip.
She tilted her head to gauge his expression. He looked loose, content, not surprising after that mind-blowing sex, but there was also a new arrogance there, among other palpable emotions. Protectiveness and adoration—the latter entirely misplaced, of course—and a familiar possessiveness.
For the love of the goddess, what had she done?
Guilt situated itself firmly in her gut. She had no illusions that her rash actions this day would spark several new conflicts in her life. Would Mace be able to forgive her transgression? She imagined Knox’s righteous grin as he received undeniable confirmation of her wickedness, and not just because she’d bonded yet another vampire, which would surely come as no surprise to him, but because she was an unfaithful hussy who couldn’t control her desires.
“You shouldn’t be too hard on yourself,” Bray said as if reading her thoughts. He nuzzled the top of her head with his chin.
“Shouldn’t I?” Her stomach twisted again. “How could I not? I’m a terrible person.”
“Right now, you’re my favorite person in the whole world.”
She made a caustic sound. “That’s only because you just got laid. You’d feel the same of anyone else in my place.”
“Maybe.”
She reared back, surprised by his capitulation.
“But no one else is in your place. No one else was brought to me, bound to me, saved me from a fate worse than death.”
