by Anne Hope
“What’s going on with you, Regan?” He couldn’t help it; he had to ask. As much as he wanted to give her space, her withdrawal concerned him. “You’ve barely spoken a word to me in six hours.” He’d preserved the silence, mired in his own thoughts, unwilling to intrude on hers. But now the need to hear her voice sheared his insides.
Her throat muscles worked as she swallowed. Stillness spread to engulf them again. When she finally spoke, her voice was taut and brittle, laced with pain. “You made me ingest human souls.” The words resonated with accusation. “I feel them inside me. I feel these people’s fears, their hopes and their dreams. It’s like they’re speaking to me, and I can’t shut it off.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “They’re still alive within me, every last one of them. And I’m slowly killing them.”
She swiped at her tear, only to stare at her glittering fingers in awe. “I always wondered what it would feel like to cry. I thought it would hurt, but it feels good.” She inhaled a long shuddering breath, right before she broke down and openly wept.
In three long strides, Marcus bridged the distance between them and pulled her into the sheltering circle of his arms. He crushed her against him, losing himself in the feel of her as her heart drummed a frantic beat against his. Her warm tears dampened his shirt, seeping through the cotton fabric to brand his flesh.
“I had no choice,” he whispered, hoping she could forgive him. He hadn’t realized until this moment how much he valued her affection. “I had to save you.” His own voice cracked beneath the pressure of everything that was going on inside him.
“You should’ve let me die.”
“I couldn’t. Ask me for anything. Anything but that.”
She trembled in his arms. “Why?”
He pulled back far enough to gaze into her tear-stained face. Tenderness washed through him, filling him with weakness even as it infused him with strength. “Because I love you.” He’d expected the words to remain trapped in his throat, but they proved surprisingly easy to say. Now that the truth was out there, looming like a separate entity between them, he felt relieved.
He was prepared for anything—a slap, a laugh, a kiss—but the one thing he hadn’t anticipated from her was doubt.
She disengaged herself from his embrace and shook her head in denial. “That’s not you talking. We can’t trust anything we’re feeling right now. Not with all the souls buzzing inside us.”
He gripped her by the arms and gave her a light shake. “It’s not the souls. And it’s not Kyros. It took watching you die for me to clue in, but I finally get it. This thing between us, it’s real. You’ve known it all along. Don’t shut down on me now, Regan, not when I’ve finally come clean. I don’t think I could bear it.” He hated the weakness he caught in his voice, the unspoken plea. He’d existed for centuries, but never before had he needed anyone the way he needed Regan.
He could live with being an outcast, he could even live with being cut off from Cal and the Watchers, but if Regan were to cut him loose there would be nothing left to tether him. She was his anchor, his map and his compass.
Emotion flooded her eyes, and more tears spilled to soak her face. Then she raised her palm to his cheek and nothing more needed to be said. He saw his lost soul reflected in her gaze.
A groan exploded from his throat, and he captured her mouth with his, hungry for the taste of her, no longer able to deny himself what he craved so desperately. He could fight his baser instincts, prevent himself from succumbing to his dark nature, deprive himself of the things his very composition demanded, but he couldn’t fight a hunger of the soul. It transcended every part of him, rendered him powerless against the sheer intensity of it.
Her heat drew him in, welcomed him home. Willpower ceased to exist, and his body took over, taking what it needed. Every inch of him hardened, and the sharp, pulsing ache within him brought him as much pain as pleasure.
It had been ages since he’d found satisfaction in a woman’s body, ages since he’d even considered it. Now desire ran the show, and he couldn’t get her naked fast enough. He palmed her breasts, trying to be gentle, failing. His fingers fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, struggling for patience when all he wanted to do was tear the damn thing off. The buttons refused to cooperate, and he grunted in frustration.
Regan pushed his hands aside and performed the task herself, her breathing fast and choppy, her gaze clouded with the same desire that blazed through him. She faltered midway as the haze of doubt crept in again. “What about Cal, the vow—”
He cut her off with another hot, greedy kiss. “I don’t want to think about that right now. I don’t want think, period. All I want to do is feel.” Pinning her to the wall, he dug his hips into hers, grinding himself against her, nearly crying out from the stab of bliss it brought him.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, and the pressure became debilitating. He yanked her hard against him but couldn’t seem to get her close enough to satisfy the ravenous throb within him.
“I can’t stand it,” he growled between kisses. The heat, the pounding need was driving him mad. “Feels like I’m going to lose my mind. I need you to touch me. Now.”
Clothing rustled and sighed as it fell to the floor, then they stood naked in the fluttering moonlight. Her hands explored his body, shy and eager, hot and hesitant. When her fingers closed around him, the pleasure that shot through him was pure agony. He clenched his teeth to bite back a groan, and the sound morphed to a hiss.
“Changed my mind.” He yanked her hand away and pinned her wrists to the wall. “Your touch feels too damn good, and I want this to last.” If he could, he’d make it last a lifetime, or ten. He wanted to savor every kiss, every touch, every blissful sigh he pried from her lips, because there was no telling when he’d get to experience anything like this again.
They were trapped in a fantasy. Tonight was a break from reality, a moment out of time, no more sustainable than a dream. Tomorrow the world would crash down around them again. He knew that as surely as he lived and breathed. But on this starless night, they were free. Free to succumb. Free to savor and enjoy and fool themselves into believing they actually had some control over their fate.
His gaze traveled down the length of her body, drinking in the sight of her perfect breasts, the delicate ridges of her ribcage, the soft indentation of her belly, the sexy flare of her hips. In all his existence, he’d never seen anything as exquisite as Regan. “God, you’re beautiful.”
“As beautiful as your ice princess?”
He smiled at the bitter note of jealousy he caught in her voice, underscored by a confounding trace of insecurity. Didn’t she know the impact she had on him? The way she’d invaded every chamber of his mind? The way his soul came alive at her touch, even though it was nowhere to be found inside him?
“There’s no comparison.” If only he could make her understand how deeply he meant it. Behind the glaze of passion, uncertainty still flickered in her eyes. She didn’t believe he loved her. “You still think I’m drunk, don’t you?”
She didn’t bother denying it. “Those were pretty powerful souls we swallowed.”
“And you have no qualms taking advantage of me?”
“None whatsoever.”
A feral smile yanked at his mouth. “Good.”
He kissed her again, with all the hunger in his heart. He’d convince her his feelings for her were real, one way or another. But he needed to rein in his anticipation, to temper the flames before they consumed them both. Otherwise, he’d take her right here on the floor the way he’d nearly taken her in the cemetery.
Regan’s hot, silky mouth wasn’t helping. The way her lips fused to his, the way her tongue explored the inside of his mouth, the way she pulled him to her like her next breath depended on it, caused a voracious shudder to rock his body.
He broke the kiss, took a few steadying breaths. “Easy there. It’s been nearly two centuries.”
She rubbed herself against him, maki
ng every inch of him lurch painfully, and he cursed. “What’s the matter? Can’t take the heat?”
Marcus never could refuse a dare. If there was one weakness he’d carried over from his human years, it was that. “Don’t bet on it.”
He plundered her mouth again, his body moving in perfect rhythm with hers, their hips joined enticingly even though he refrained from entering her just yet. It was enough to feel her liquid heat against him, caressing him, her heartbeat pulsing to the tempo of his.
His mouth abandoned her lips to trace the curve of her chin, the graceful column of her throat, the valley between her breasts. He stopped, noticing the birthmark positioned over her heart. He ran the pad of his thumb over it, perplexed—not because the birthmark was ironically shaped like a heart, but because he had an identical one on his right shoulder blade.
“You’re infuriating, you know that?” Regan wrapped herself around him in the most seductive manner, probably thinking his fascination with her birthmark was nothing but a stalling tactic, an excuse to tease her. “But you’re not getting away with it this time.”
Before he could respond, the world crested over him. Then he was tumbling into bed with Regan’s delectable body poised over his, her hair falling in velvet folds to block out everything but the feel and scent of her.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Regan straddled Marcus, her heart hammering, her stomach muscles gathered in a tight clench. Her legs ensnared his thighs, and she leaned over him, her hair curtaining his face. Desire dueled with anger, igniting her blood, and she wasn’t sure which of the two drove her as she lowered her face to his.
She wanted him. There was no question about that. She’d always wanted him and probably always would. But regardless of the unquestionable thirst he elicited within her, no other man had the power to enrage her quite the way he did, and right now she was both painfully turned on and frigging pissed.
She was angry because he’d forced her to take not one but numerous souls, even if the act had saved her life. She was angry because he was still doing everything in his power to resist her, despite the fact that he’d finally given in to the sizzling attraction between them. But most of all, she was angry at him for telling her he loved her, when tomorrow the only thing he’d be able to feel was regret.
If this night was all they had, she would damn well make it count. She’d make sure she branded him as surely as Cal had. She’d imprint herself in his skin, leave her mark on the very soul he refused to admit he had.
“Why is it that when you teleport us, you always end up on top?” His warm breath brushed her lips, and a current of electricity trickled down her spine.
“Because deep down, you love it when I take charge.”
A low timbre of laughter rumbled in his throat. “Maybe you’re right.”
Their mouths met in an explosive dance, mating and exploring, tasting and caressing. His kiss was hot and sweet and so achingly familiar, her heart ballooned until her ribs could no longer contain it. It was as though she’d kissed him not once, not twice, but a million times before.
His hands stroked her body, tracing the curve of her hips, gliding over her spine, tickling the sensitive spot at the nape of her neck. Her skin came alive, her blood pumping fast, her abdominal muscles contracting from the force of the desire that gripped her. When he clutched her waist and pulled her to him, his mouth closing over her breast, she was lost.
His lips traced a fiery trail up her neck, over her chin, across her cheek, to nuzzle her ear. Shivers hopped along her skin, and she moaned. Her loneliness, the emptiness she’d lived with for so long, became a chasm so deep, it threatened to pull her down and never allow her to surface again. She needed to banish that loneliness, to fill that emptiness, to reconnect with the person she’d once been. She needed to connect with Marcus, to belong to him the way she felt he belonged to her.
She raised herself onto her elbows and found the strength to gaze into his eyes, all pretense stripped away. For once, she made no effort to hide the intensity of her feelings for him. The walls around her crumbled to dust, leaving her exposed, her heart open and defenseless.
“Make love to me, Marcus.” She heard the vulnerability in her voice and didn’t try to stifle it for once, even though it frightened her beyond words.
“I thought that’s what I was doing.” His tone was taut and gruff, his breath short and uneven.
“No. We’re still playing games, trying to get the upper hand, like we have something to prove.” She traced his sharp, angular jaw with her fingers in a gesture that was undeniably affectionate. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore. I just want to love you, even if it’s only for tonight.”
His features softened. His jaw slackened and a fervent glitter came into his eyes. He palmed her face, his thumbs stroking her cheek. He pulled her to him so gently, a cloying lump of emotion pooled in her throat. The kiss that followed was different, as scorching and passionate as the others but infused with a tenderness that made her eyes sting.
In one fluid move, he flipped her over, pinning her naked body beneath his, his lips never leaving her mouth. Regan didn’t think it was possible, but he deepened the kiss, drinking from her so thoroughly she found it difficult to inhale. With the help of his knee, he pried her legs open and settled between them. Her hips cradled him. Her thighs welcomed him home. A tremulous sigh vibrated from their joined lips as he slid inside her.
Her body arched to receive him, growing hot and molten, her legs a tight clasp around him. The strength of him, the delicious heat of him inside her, robbed her of the ability to form a coherent thought. She was lost, adrift, carried by an unrelenting tide toward a destination where intense pleasure walked hand in hand with heartache.
His body stiffened, and he broke the kiss with a harsh groan. He clenched his teeth, slowly rocked his hips against hers, sliding in and out of her, every glorious inch of him as smooth and rigid as a marble statue.
“What is it about you?” he rasped in her ear. “Why am I drawn to you so completely? Why do I have the feeling my world starts and ends with you?”
Even if she’d been capable of thought, she wouldn’t have been able to provide an answer. Not when she’d been asking herself the very same questions about him.
She matched the rhythmic pulse of his hips, her voice buried beneath thick layers of emotion, her mind drowning in a cloud of sensation. Her skin thrummed, her spine tingled, and a ravenous fire raged deep within her belly.
Then his movements grew more urgent, wild and desperate, only fueling the uncontrollable blaze inside her. His fists clenched the sheets next to her head. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. His feral expression mirrored hers, pinched with a pleasure that bordered on pain.
Then the world exploded around them, and time ceased to matter. Only the two of them existed in a universe that stood determined to tear them apart.
Moonlight streamed through the window, silvering everything in the room and making Marcus gleam like the marble statue she’d compared him to. Regan held him close, feeling his heart hammer against hers, and squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see the moon eventually surrender to the sun. Everything was so much simpler at night, when shadows ruled and reality lost its sharp edges. In the dark, she could pretend tomorrow would never come and this moment was all that mattered.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Cal called an emergency meeting several hours after news of the fire exploded across the media. He’d wanted to do some digging, get his facts straight before he briefed his troops. He’d phoned a few of his trusted contacts, who’d confirmed his suspicions. This was no random fire. It was arson, and he knew exactly who’d committed the deed.
The Watchers filed into the conference room and took their seats, their expressions blank and somber.
“I’m sure you’re all aware by now why I’ve called you here. In the middle of the night, no less.”
The Watchers exchanged knowing glances. Jace, who sat at th
e far end of the scuffed table, reached for Lia’s hand.
Cal stared at their joined palms, hoping to impart his disapproval. He wasn’t the only one who noticed the open display of affection. Every Watcher in the room was aware of Jace and Lia’s special affiliation and openly resented it. But Jace made no effort to withdraw his hand.
“A few hours ago someone set fire to the Rivershore Hospital,” Cal continued. “At first, I thought it was a random accident. The building has been abandoned for months. It only makes sense to assume a group of vagrants took up residence there. They could’ve left a fire burning, failed to properly extinguish a candle or cigarette. But then, I got my hands on this.”
He pulled out the photograph he’d received from one of his contacts a few minutes ago and passed it around the table. “This was taken from the street cam a block away.”
Surprised murmurs traveled through the room. Only Jace and Lia remained quiet, their expressions impassive, their palms still fused together.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Jace finally said, “but that could be anyone. Regan’s not the only redhead around.”
The photograph depicted a dark-haired man carrying a woman with long, flame-red locks. Marcus’s head was bent forward, so his features were indiscernible, but Regan’s fiery curls were a dead giveaway.
“I’ve known Marcus and Regan long enough to recognize them when I see them.” Cal directed a blistering glare Jace’s way. “They were there. They set that fire.” He scanned the faces of all those who surrounded him. “What I’d like to know is why. But more importantly, I’d like to know where they went after they left the hospital.”
The door suddenly burst open, and Thomas strutted into the conference room. “I think I may have the answer to that question.”
“Come join us, Thomas,” Cal invited. “Tell us what you’ve uncovered.”
Jace visibly tensed as the tracker took a seat across from him.
