Liquid popped and sizzled on the stove. Inhaling deeply, he approached and turned the heat down to low. Spaghetti sauce. Must be Kadall’s turn to cook; it was the only thing in his repertoire. Setting another pot, this one just water, to boil on the stove he entered the pantry in search of pasta. He finally located a box buried under a bag of dried beans.
Sighing, he returned to the stove. He really had to find a new cook. The last had left when she’d mated a human of all things. Rare, but it happened. The bond would keep the human alive and young as long as she lived.
That was when life was too boring, before he met Winter.
Suddenly, he felt her anger, her determination. He closed his eyes and let it wash through him, connecting to her to see what had her so riled up, and smiling at what he saw. Mitchell had just informed her that she couldn’t stay with the pack, that he wouldn’t interfere in what was between her and Marcus. The wolf was smarter than Marcus had originally given him credit for.
The water started to boil and he opened the box, dropping enough pasta for two in. She might be furious with him but she still had to eat. She wouldn’t make him wait long.
He felt her presence in the house as soon as she arrived. The air crackled with fury. He didn’t seek her out, was careful to mask his presence in the house. He wanted her to use the mental connection between them to find him. Every time she used it, the link was strengthened. She knew exactly what he was doing and he laughed out loud at the surge of irritation she sent down the path.
He didn’t turn around when she entered but he felt her watching him, an almost physical stroke over his back. He knew she didn’t do it on purpose, had done it unconsciously, but it cheered him anyway. She could fight what was between them, but she couldn’t win. It was only a matter of time before she accepted that.
He drained the pasta over the sink, reached for two plates and put a generous helping on each. “Hungry?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral so none of the irritation he felt over her leaving showed. He didn’t acknowledge her anger either.
He heard her move, her steps soft in the still room. “I could eat.”
She stepped up next to him and taking the plate he handed her added sauce to it. She got two forks from the drawer and handed one to him. She must have been in the kitchen before she’d left this afternoon.
Winter had come back intending to give him a piece of her mind. Then he’d offered to feed her and now look at her, all docile and accommodating and quiet. God, what was wrong with her? She would have screamed in frustration but she was suddenly starving, her stomach reminding her she’d abandoned the bacon and eggs earlier without taking a bite. She ate. She could yell to her heart’s content later.
Neither spoke other than her murmured “thank you” when he handed her a glass of wine and his just as quiet “you’re welcome.” When her plate was clean, she carried it to the sink and rinsed it off, adding it to the others waiting to be run in the dishwasher. Such mundane tasks. So homey. She couldn’t decide if she liked that feeling or not. Turning to face the table she saw he was also finished and leaning back in his chair studying her, a self-satisfied expression on his face. Yeah. Right. She didn’t like the congenial atmosphere. Didn’t like the smirk that seemed to say she was going to give her life over without a fight.
“You had no right,” she said.
He arched an eyebrow but didn’t try to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. “I had every right. You’re mine.”
How could he sit there so calmly and make such an outrageous statement? It was impossible. She simply refused to be with someone that much, that completely. She shook her head. No. No way.
“You aren’t going to win this fight, Winter.” So damned calm, so cool. Nothing like the hot temper that had been in her head for the last two months. She knew he was angry, she felt it, but he kept a firm lid on it. Of course, some of the sexual tension had been eased and he’d fed from her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. There was the obvious benefit, the lessening of the demon’s control. But it was one thing about the nightwalkers she’d always found kind of creepy. She snorted to herself. Like binding your soul to a demon’s wasn’t creepy? She wasn’t exactly in a position to throw stones.
And never mind any of that. She just wasn’t ready to tie herself to one man, to make the choice that felt like a betrayal of David’s memory. Maybe it would help if she explained. She doubted it, but it couldn’t hurt, right?
“I was married, you know. Before I joined the Order.”
“I know.” He said it softly, tenderness in his eyes.
It got her back up. She didn’t want his sympathy. She wanted space. She wanted to be left alone. She knew she was broadcasting the thought when his gaze hardened and his jaw clenched. He stood and stepped closer to her, taking her chin between his fingers and forcing her to look up at him.
I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.
His lips closed over hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. Stealing her over, digging deeper into her heart. Her body responded against her will, against her command for it to slow down. She pushed closer to him, rubbed her hard nipples against his chest, aching for relief. Her sex grew wet as he intensified the kiss, his tongue delving deep, mimicking the actions she wanted from his cock.
She slipped one hand up the back of his shirt, swallowing his groan when her skin contacted his. Then she reached a hand between them, outlining the bulge of his erection, rubbing it before trying to pop the snap at the top of his jeans. He stopped her with a low growl and secured both her hands at the base of her back. Need crawled through her and she choked on a sob. Would he fuck her already? Or was he going to torment her, going to deny her because she’d snuck out of his bed earlier?
He tugged on her hands, forcing her to arch her back so that her breasts thrust forward and up, the hard tips clearly outlined in the tight shirt she wore.
“Is that really what you want? You want me to fuck you like any other woman? Like someone who means nothing to me?”
Leaning forward, he scraped his teeth over her nipple. At the same time, he thrust into her mind, sending wicked image after wicked image of what he wanted to do to her, what he wanted to make her feel. She almost screamed at the overload of sensation, almost came at the feel of him at her breast and in her mind. Almost. He kept her just on the edge. She felt the purpose in him, the intent to prove he meant more to her than some casual sexual encounter. He moved his thigh between her legs and lifted her on it a little, rubbed it against her sex. She trembled with the need to come.
No. You haven’t earned it yet.
Her mind froze for a split-second, then rebelled at the command, the dominance in that voice. She struggled against him, tried to force him to release her even as her body yearned for him, yearned to be taken in every way he’d ever shown her. But the level of trust required was something she didn’t think she was capable of.
He released her abruptly and she stumbled back. Wrapping her arms around her middle she paced away and struggled to regain control, forced herself to remember all her responsibilities, all the reasons she couldn’t just give herself over to someone else’s care. She couldn’t be soft and weak. There was no time and no room in her life for it.
By sheer force of will, she didn’t jerk away when his hands settled on her shoulders. He leaned closer, his lips brushing the sensitive skin under her ear and her body did what it predictably did at his touch.
“It’s not a weakness to let your mate take care of your needs. And it’s my right. My privilege.”
He sucked her skin between his teeth, bit sharply and her womb convulsed. His hands moved under her shirt, sliding up her torso to cup her breasts, lightly pulling on her nipples. Oh the hell with it. She pushed her ass back against him. She’d give up control if it appeased this incredible need.
That’s it, baby. Give over to me. Let me take care of you.
She couldn’t respond, couldn’t think about anything b
ut the orgasm that was just out of reach, the tension spiraling tighter and tighter through her body. He spun her around, kissed her as he picked her up and left the kitchen. Up the stairs. Back to his room. Right where she’d started out the day.
She dropped her weapons in a chair and stripped out of the rest of her clothes as fast as she could while he did the same. He met her gaze, eyes an inferno of desire and demand. She felt fevered, impossibly hot as she backed up. He grabbed her when the backs of her knees hit the mattress, before she could sit and scoot back.
“Not this time. On your knees, Winter.”
She rolled over to her knees, upper body supported by her elbows. She knew he meant it as a kind of punishment, felt his need to prove to her once and for all she wanted more than just easy sex from him. But she also felt his excitement as he circled the bed, as he removed the rest of his clothes. He wanted her, needed her like this. Submissive. Presenting herself for him and only him. The only man who’d ever receive her surrender. She was surprised he saw it that way, would never have reached that conclusion on her own and wasn’t sure she was quite ready to go that far now. She would submit this time, right now, and leave the future to worry about later.
It seemed to be enough for him.
The bed dipped when he climbed on behind her and she held her breath as he moved into position. The head of his erection pushed against her entrance, but he waited, stroked her back and her ass with cool palms. She wanted to push back against him, wanted to demand he take her, but she knew this was a test, knew if she did what she wanted she’d fail and he’d deny her again.
He leaned forward over her back, whispered in her ear as he thrust into her. “See? You can submit.”
Straightening, he gripped her hips and started to move. There was no slow easy buildup. It was fast and hard and rough. And she loved every minute of it, coming almost immediately. He fucked her through it, kept her coming with mental fingers on her clit every time she started to cool down. She was sure she couldn’t take anymore, sure each new orgasm was the one that would kill her.
He pulled away from her and let her roll to her back, but her relief was short-lived when he covered her, his erection wringing a groan from her as he pushed home again. He kissed her, slowly, tenderly to match his strokes in her. Taking his time now, soothing her electrified senses. She relaxed into him, able to breathe again when he broke the kiss.
“One more time, baby,” he whispered in her ear.
She grabbed his shoulders as he picked up the pace, harder and deeper, in a fast even tempo. Her fingernails dug into his muscles as her sex clenched around him and she felt her mind splinter. He cried his release, warm jets of sperm filling her, and stilled above her, clinging to her. After several minutes, he rolled to her side. They were both panting, sweaty. The need was temporarily sated but nowhere near appeased.
“I’m not moving for at least a week.”
He chuckled and she groaned when her cell phone started chirping.
“Damn it,” she mumbled, trying to make her exhausted body roll out of bed to find the stupid thing. Her body refused to obey her. Marcus stood, rummaged around on the floor and handed it to her as he collapsed back at her side.
“Yeah?”
“Another one,” was Dupree’s clipped reply. She was suddenly wide-awake.
“Fuck! Where? Who?”
“One of the safe houses. On the north end. Four dead, everyone else accounted for.”
She closed her eyes wishing she could go back several days, wishing she knew what the hell was going on. Standing, she tucked the phone under her ear as she reached for her pants.
“I’ll meet you there,” she said to Dupree and closed the phone.
Marcus beat her to them and handed them over. He looked really pissed off. Shit. She added it to the long list of things she didn’t have time for.
“I’ve got to go.”
She pulled her bra and shirt back on, sat on the edge of the bed to zip up her boots, had her weapons strapped back on in record time. Guilt crawled through her, sped her up. Her people had been butchered while she indulged herself with a nightwalker.
“Don’t do that.”
She didn’t have to ask what, had sometime in the last several hours accepted she couldn’t kick him out of her head. She shrugged.
“Why not? It’s true.”
“You can’t be everywhere at once,” he snarled, getting into his own clothes. “And even if you’d been there, you’d probably be dead too and then what good would you be to anyone?”
He said the right words, but it wasn’t what he was thinking. He didn’t give a damn about them; he just didn’t want to lose her. He slammed up walls against her when he realized she’d picked up the stray thought. She narrowed her eyes.
“That’s hardly fair. I don’t get to have any private thoughts but you do?”
She explored the shield with mental fingers, pushed at a weaker spot and it crumbled like dust. Unfortunately, she didn’t know if he’d let it happen or if she’d really accomplished it on her own and now that her access was returned she wasn’t positive she wanted it.
He used fury to cover his fear. His fear he could have lost her in any of the three attacks, his fear he still could lose her. It was a side of him she didn’t want to see, a softer humanizing side. She shook her head. Later. She’d deal with this later.
She closed her eyes, picturing the house she needed to go to and felt Marcus move through her mind and also fix on the location. She knew he planned on following her and was not happy at the relief she felt because of it. She had Dupree and Gia as backup, but she couldn’t deny Marcus’s usefulness in a fight. On that thought, she focused, felt her molecules shift as she teleported to meet Dupree.
Chapter Twenty-One
Luke found a quiet, unused space in the sub-basement, collected an abandoned chair and settled in to wait. There were other things he should be doing—organizing patrols, checking up on the training of new recruits, trying to figure out who the hell inside the Order was betraying his, or her, own. It was pretty damned obvious someone was.
But no. Instead he was hiding out underground, waiting for the sun to set and Gia to arrive. It was all so…stalkerish. And completely ludicrous, that he, Luke Black, player extraordinaire, lover of all women and universally loved in return, was reduced to stalking his own damned mate. Absurd and infuriating. The walls bulged a moment as anger swept through him and he was careful to rein in his power, to let it release harmlessly.
He set the chair against the wall and brushed away a cobweb before sitting and leaning his head back. One day very soon he was going to spank her pretty ass for putting him in this position. She’d insisted on her own room last night, but he hadn’t believed she was really serious about keeping him out. So imagine his surprise when the door was locked. He could have easily gained entrance, picked the lock or just blasted the door open, but he thought it would be more satisfying to force her to come to him.
If he didn’t feed from her soon, thereby leaching off the excess energy from the demon, she would start to come apart. Wincing, he recalled his first meeting with her. She’d been barely walking the edge between sanity and madness then. He wouldn’t let her carry this defiance far enough to endanger herself.
But she hadn’t come to him today either, had in fact left the house as soon as she could. She wasn’t struggling, fighting her demon side for control yet, and he had no idea how long it would be before she needed to. Whatever the length of time, it was too much. He was not sleeping alone again.
The question was how to get her where she belonged and the obvious answer was sex. He couldn’t live without touching her, so how could she? He scowled and stood to pace the room. She’d managed just fine last night. He couldn’t demand her capitulation either. He’d tried that, insisted last night she drop her shields and give him access to her mind, but she’d refused.
Refused to accept she was his in the most irrevocable way, refused to grant hi
m access to what was his right as a mate. He stopped pacing and pictured her, then glared at the ceiling. It trembled a little, fine dust shaking free to fall on him as it did. Damn it, why couldn’t his mate be another nightwalker? Why did he get stuck with a stubborn, beautiful hybrid?
Returning to the chair, he reached out, hoping to catch her in a weak moment. No such luck though he wasn’t as cut off as he’d been. He couldn’t get into her head, but he felt her. Her turmoil. Her confusion and anger. Her sorrow. He shouldn’t have been able to sense her over such a long distance. He wouldn’t have with anyone else he didn’t already have a connection with like his brother or Kadall. He jumped up from the chair, excitement surging through him. He shouldn’t be able to sense her emotions so well. That he could was surely a sign in his favor. The bond was growing. Now to just reel her in, make it complete.
With all his concentration turned on her, he felt her teleport into the building, felt her realization that he was there somewhere, felt her trepidation. He was surprised when she didn’t leave right away, that she wasn’t running as fast as her feet would carry her from the confrontation. Of course, she realized she had time. The sun was still up and the windows on the top floor of the building, in her office, weren’t shuttered. He couldn’t go to her yet.
He waited impatiently for the sun to set, never hating it as much as he did in those moments. It wouldn’t kill him. Not right away at least. It would sap his energy, create little sparks of fire along his skin and nerve endings. Nightwalkers, naturally, avoided it like the plague it was. Finally, finally, it slid over the horizon and it was safe for him to go up.
The elevator was too slow, so he found the stairwell and jogged up. He could have teleported, he’d been in her office before and knew the layout, but he didn’t. He wanted her to feel him coming for her, wanted her to know there was no hiding, no place on earth and certainly not in Camden, that she could conceal herself.
Kiss of Darkness Page 12
