“Just please promise me that you won’t shut me out again.”
“I promise,” she murmured, giving her sister another hug.
Before she left, Jillian warned her that their mother was going to flip when she found out she was back, but assured her that she would try to buy her a little time before Constance Murphy descended on the Alley like a force of nature. As Jillian headed back to her cabin, Sayre walked inside and locked the front door, hoping they were done with visitors for the night. She went in search of Cian, and instead found her things sitting on the foot of the bed in the master bedroom, which had been decorated as hideously as the living room. He must have gone out the back door and brought everything back from the Audi while she’d been talking to Jillian, and she hoped like hell that he hadn’t overheard any of their conversation.
Stepping back into the hallway, she saw that the cabin’s back door had been left slightly ajar, and she could smell cigarette smoke, which meant he was probably out on the back porch polluting his lungs. Deciding to get ready for bed while he enjoyed his vice, she changed into a small tank-and-short set, then went into the horrendously green bathroom to brush her teeth. When she came back into the bedroom, a magnificently bare-chested and barefoot Cian was sitting on the bed with his back resting against the gaudy headboard, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles.
“You look exhausted,” he said the moment she walked into the room.
She snuffled a soft snort under her breath. “Thanks. Lines like that must get you laid all the time.”
Instead of laughing, he gave her a hard, steady stare that brought a rush of heat to the sensitive surface of her skin. “You could look dead on your feet and you’d still be the most beautiful woman in the world, Sayre. I was just trying to say that I’m worried about you.”
“Oh. Um, thanks.”
“Come on,” he said, jerking his chin toward the empty side of the bed.
“Are we both sleeping in here?” she asked, unable to hide the surprise in her voice. After the way he’d pulled away from her today, she hadn’t thought he’d want to get near her again so soon.
She watched his strong throat work as he swallowed. “Yeah, we are. I...I don’t want to take any chances being away from you. Especially at night. And the bed is big.”
She didn’t say anything more as she put her toothbrush back in her bag, then made her way over to the bed. Trying like crazy not to drool at the mouthwatering sight of him sprawled on top of the far side of the mattress, his lean, muscular body the most mesmerizing thing she’d ever seen, she pulled back the blankets and climbed in. There was a hole in the left leg of the faded jeans he’d thrown on, and she could see a glimpse of the dark hair that was sprinkled over his strong, powerful thigh. Given how hot that little glimpse of his leg was making her, she knew better than to let her gaze drift higher, taking in his ripped abs, rugged chest and those broad, sink-your-nails-into-them shoulders. And then there were his big, round biceps, corded forearms and thick wrists that led to large, beautiful hands.
God. Her body temperature was rising, her heart pounding like a freaking jackhammer, and she knew her power was on the verge of breaking free in an embarrassing display of sparks any second now. Doing the only thing she could, she squeezed her eyes shut, praying he would turn off the bedside light as she started to roll over, giving him her back. But he stopped her with the touch of his big, warm hand on her arm.
“Don’t,” he groaned, pulling on her arm until she’d rolled onto her back and found herself staring up into his breathtaking face, his lips slightly parted for his uneven breaths. He lifted his hand and gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The look in his molten, heavy-lidded gaze made her shiver, and she licked her lips, so nervous and excited she thought she might come out of her skin.
Then he completely blew her mind as he said, “You forgot to let me kiss you good-night, lass.”
* * *
Cian didn’t know where those words had come from, but he couldn’t take them back. Didn’t want to take them back. He didn’t want anything but the feel of her mouth under his again, slick and hot and opened wide for the ravenous demands of his lips and tongue, and so that’s what he took. With his weight braced on his elbow, he leaned over her and ran his tongue over her juicy lower lip, then sank it deep inside that sweet-as-hell hollow of flesh. And, Christ, it was perfect. Soft and wet and impossibly addictive, making him crave even more of her—all of her—in a way that was even deeper than the visceral hunger for this woman he’d been carrying with him for years.
“I want more,” she moaned, curving her feminine hands around the back of his neck, his skin hot and damp beneath the softness of her palms.
With his right hand cupping the side of her face, he tilted her head back at a deeper angle with his thumb under the delicate edge of her jaw. “More of what, baby?”
“Of this. Of you.”
“Sayre,” he groaned, rubbing her name into those cushiony, kiss-swollen lips, fighting the instinctive urge to reach down and cup one of her perfect breasts in his hand, her nipples tight and thick as they pressed against the thin cotton of her top in a way that was guaranteed to drive him insane. “Damn it, you little witch,” he panted, his blood pounding in his ears. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
She broke away from the kiss and pulled on the back of his hair to get him to lift his head until she could see his face. “Don’t say that,” she whispered, stroking her fingertips across the stubble that covered the lower half of his face, reminding him that he still needed to shave. There were too many tender, intimate places on her body that he needed to put his mouth on, and he didn’t want to be worrying about scratching her when he explored every single one of them. “With everything that’s happening,” she added, “I don’t want to hear you talk that way.”
He ran his tongue over his lower lip, loving how he could taste her there. “And I can’t hear you say you want me without wanting to do things to you that should have me drawn and quartered.”
Her lips twisted with a rueful grin, some of the fiery heat in her gaze dimming. “I’m sure it’s nothing you haven’t heard a thousand times before.”
“It doesn’t matter, Sayre.” They were gruff, husky words that were thick with his need for her. “None of it matters, because you’re different.”
“Good,” she murmured, looking relieved, if not entirely convinced. “I should be different for you, considering what’s between us.”
“No,” he argued with a snarl, unable to soften the frustration scalding him from the inside out. “It’s not good. I’m not talking about the life-mate connection. I wanted you too much before I even realized it was between us.”
Surprise filtered through her smoldering look of need. “You did?”
“You’re damned right I did,” he growled, clawing on to his crumbling self-control with everything that he had. “As wrong as it was, I wanted you even when you were practically jailbait. I wanted to get you naked and under me, Sayre. I wanted to keep you trapped there, at my mercy, taking every inch of me until I was buried so far inside you there wasn’t any chance I was ever coming back out.”
“Cian,” she moaned, just as her power started to break free in a shower of tiny, golden sparks that glittered around them like fireflies. Pulling away from her, he forced himself to sit up, needing to give himself a moment to think, to get his head on straight, since he was about two seconds away from completely losing it. But she followed after him, bringing that breathtaking body of hers up right beside him. He opened his mouth, ready to tell her that he wasn’t leaving, that they just needed to be careful and take things slow—not because he wanted to, but because it was the only way he could keep his shit together—when she reached down, grabbed the hem of her tank top and ripped it over h
er crazy little head.
Holy mother of God, someone whispered inside his head, but he wasn’t sure if the choked words belonged to him or to his wolf. His head jerked back so quickly it was like she’d smacked him, his lips parting as his eyes narrowed to piercing, focused slits. Her nipples were very small, and very pink, the way they topped her firm breasts making his mouth water and his blood burn.
Somehow, she was even more perfect than he’d imagined, and now he was seriously in trouble, his hunger like a living thing inside his body, foaming at the mouth, champing at the bit to get closer to her. “What the fuck, Sayre?”
“I want this,” she said in a voice that was soft but steady, her long hair streaming over her freckled shoulders, framing her mouthwatering breasts so perfectly she looked like a centerfold. Only he’d never seen a centerfold who even came close to looking as devastatingly gorgeous as Sayre Murphy. She was...damn it, there weren’t even words, and he couldn’t have torn his gaze away from her to save his bloody life.
Blushing so hard she looked sunburned, that adorable mix of shy and bold the sexiest damn thing he’d ever encountered, she added, “They’re not as big as you usually went for, but—”
“Shut up,” he growled, quickly finding his voice so he could cut her off. He’d walk over jagged shards of glass before he sat there and listened to her say shit like that. “Your breasts are beautiful, Sayre. You’re beautiful. Every addictive little inch of you is perfect.”
And then he was done talking, because he couldn’t wait another goddamn minute to get his mouth on her. Gripping her upper arms, he pushed her back into the god-awful green pillows that had tiny pink shamrocks all over them, and came down over her. Everything else faded away, and he lost himself in the girl he wished like hell he could be the right man for. Holding her blistering gaze, he touched just the very tip of his tongue to one of those swollen nipples, the taste and texture so damn good he groaned. She was exquisite, and he shuddered with a hard jolt of lust as he lapped at her and rubbed the flat of his tongue over the pebbled, succulent pink flesh. She was exceptionally sensitive, her skin flushing with color, those tiny sparks of light still pinging around them. It was like being caught in the center of a star, surrounded by the surreal bursts of color and heat, while waves of sensation crashed into him again and again.
Keeping his heavy-lidded gaze locked tight with hers, he loved watching the emotions flash through those hazy blue-gray eyes. Excitement. Hunger. Want. Unable to stop himself, he scraped his teeth over the tender flesh of her nipple, a choked curse rumbling through his mind when she arched into the sharp caress. She might be the softest thing he’d ever gotten his hands on, but she liked a bit of bite with her pleasure, and his head went dizzy with the possibilities. It was like she’d been friggin’ made for him.
She was. Jackass.
“God, Cian.” She clutched handfuls of his hair as she held him to her, a husky cry slipping from her lips as he took the tip of her breast in his hot mouth and started to hungrily suck on her. “No wonder all the women made fools of themselves over you.”
He flinched as if she’d suddenly poked him with something sharp, letting her nipple pop free of his mouth as he pulled his head back. “Don’t,” he ordered, forcing the word through his gritted teeth.
“Don’t what?” she asked, as he put his face directly over hers, a scowl wedged deep between his brows.
“Don’t talk about other women. They don’t have any place in bed with us.”
She stared up at him, rosy and damp with desire, those tiny sparks of light still glittering around her. But she was being careful to keep her expression neutral, even as she pulled that succulent lower lip through her teeth. “If you don’t want me obsessing about your past and not being enough for you, then tell me what you want me to do. Tell me what you like, and I’ll do it.”
God...damn...it. Though he wanted her so badly it hurt, he knew he needed to stop. He was too close to losing control, and too irritated by the way she was coming at this thing between them to keep it together. He knew why she kept bringing up other women, using the reminder to help her keep things from getting too emotional, and it was bugging the hell out of him.
That was...bad, because he was too aware of how easily that frustration could get the upper hand on him, his need for possession overshadowing his common sense as what he wanted battled against what he could take without being a total asshole.
Closing his eyes, he rolled away from her and threw his legs over the far side of the bed as he sat up. “It’s been a long day, Sayre. You should go on and get some sleep.”
“Wait, what?” He could easily hear the disbelief in those breathless words. “Where are you going?”
“I need another smoke.” He sounded like he’d swallowed a mouthful of gravel, and got the hell out of there before she could say anything more. Once he was out on the back porch, he propped his shoulders against the cabin’s rough cedar planks and tilted his head back, pulling in deep breaths of the crisp mountain air, trying to make sense of what was happening to him.
Every time he touched her, he could feel his need for the little witch ramming against the defenses he’d built inside himself, stone by stone. Shields that made it possible for him to get through each day without her...and without doing something stupid.
There were things behind those walls in his head that he did his best to avoid. Pain lay there. As well as despair and disappointment. Failure and regret and guilt. So much that it made his insides feel like a festering wasteland. They’d driven him away from her before, and he honestly didn’t know what would happen this time around, now that Aedan had already learned the truth about her. Yeah, he knew what he wanted. But how badly did he want it? What was he willing to do for it? How much was he willing to reveal? To lay out on the line?
Before, he hadn’t been willing to dig any deeper for the answers, because he’d known he wasn’t right for her. And he still wasn’t. But that didn’t mean he had any of this shit figured out.
The only thing Cian knew with absolute, unchanging certainty was that he would never be what she needed.
Or even close to what she deserved.
Chapter 8
It was time to come clean.
Cian wasn’t looking forward to it, but he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. After a shitty night’s sleep on the green velvet love seat that sat beneath the window in his bedroom—since he hadn’t trusted himself to sleep beside Sayre in the bed—he’d awakened at dawn. Standing on his back porch with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, he’d watched the sun rise above the line of trees, struggling to find the right words for the explanations he would soon be making. He’d told Brody the night before that he wanted to talk to everyone today, and the Runner had told him to be at his cabin at nine.
Since he didn’t want Sayre around when he was admitting all his ugly secrets, they’d decided that Max and Elliot could keep her busy, and then the two youngest Runners could be brought up to speed later. It wasn’t an ideal solution, seeing as how she’d be spending time with the young men without him there, but he would deal with it because he had to. Anything was better than her sitting in Brody’s living room and listening to his confessions.
While the sun continued its steady rise into an azure blue sky, he was careful to be quiet so that he didn’t wake Sayre, who was damn near cocooned in the ugly shamrock sheets, only her glorious hair and the cute little tip of her nose visible. He grabbed a shower, then dressed in jeans, his black boots and one of his favorite old gray T-shirts that he’d filched off Brody years ago. It was sappy and sentimental, but it made him feel better to wear it, knowing damn well that the meeting could go one of two ways, and he wasn’t entirely certain of the outcome.
As he put his empty cup in the sink, he glanced out the kitchen window and spotted Jeremy working on a children’s swing set at the edge o
f the glade. In that moment, it really hit him, how drastically his friends’ lives had changed since he’d left, and he lifted his hand to rub at the center of his chest, where there was a sharp pang. He could see it so clearly it was like he was replaying a memory, all those big, badass warriors out there playing with their kids, making them laugh and squeal as they tossed them up into the air and blew raspberries on their little bellies, while the women looked on with heartwarming smiles.
You could have had that with Sayre, his wolf pointed out quietly, its tone more solemn than he’d ever heard it. We could have had it, if you hadn’t left.
That was true, but at what price? Five years ago, Cian could have convinced himself that the danger wasn’t as real as he’d feared—that Aedan would let go of their feud and never mark her as a target—just so he could have her. But it wouldn’t have been fair to her. Would have just been one more sin to add to his many, and she hadn’t deserved that.
So you left. And look where we are. Right here, dealing with the same things you were trying to avoid.
He grimaced, hating that the beast was right. And, yeah, if he’d known this would happen—that his past would find her anyway—he probably would have never found the strength to leave in the first place. He would have claimed her, despite knowing he wasn’t good enough for her...that he could never love her the way she deserved, and they would probably have at least three kids by now.
Did you honestly just say that? his wolf roared, seething with sharp-edged, visceral fury. The beast had been against leaving her from the moment the idea had first come to him, never wavering in its conviction. In its primal world, a male didn’t walk away from what belonged to him. He conquered and claimed and worshipped, devoting his entire life to ensuring the happiness and protection of his female, while doing everything in his power to plant his seed in her womb and create life.
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