Pure Desire

by Denise Tompkins

  Shoving out of the chair, he returned to the bed. One corner of his mouth curled in a self-deprecating smile as he considered his handiwork. She was a pretty picture of extreme bondage. Or she would be, if he could get past the fact she had been sent to seduce him. Had she been drawn to him as he was to her, or had the entire encounter been an elaborate ruse? The truth hovered around the fringes of his consciousness, a mysterious manifestation waiting for the moment of clarity that would result in a revelation. He waited, trying to hold his mind open to possibility. Nothing happened.

  Frustration ripped through his chest like a heated blade. What the hell was he supposed to do with her? He’d spent centuries struggling to keep women at arm’s length. If he let himself care, the woman would become a potential target for the Caste, a bargaining chip he’d do anything to protect. She would become a pawn in the ultimate chess game, constantly looking over her shoulder. He couldn’t subject anyone to the kind of life he’d been forced into. No way.

  His heart ached as he looked down at Rhyan. If she’d only left when he’d told her to....

  He reached out and stroked her forehead, feeding fingers through her hair and cupping her skull. His inner warrior rebelled, shouting and declaring him a fool. For all his confusion, she was still the enemy. He pulled back.

  She turned her cheek into his hand and sighed.

  His fingers stilled.

  Green eyes fluttered open. Focus eluded dilated pupils, and her lids drifted shut.

  Uncertainty paralyzed him. What the hell did he do with that?

  “Dom.” Her breath slid over his wrist.

  He leaned forward. “Yeah?”

  “You hit—”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “—like a girl.”

  Surprised laughter exploded in a gust. “A girl, huh?”

  “Yep.” She cracked one eye open. “Why?”

  “Why do I hit like a girl?”

  “No, smart-ass.”

  No doubt she wanted to know why he’d taken her down. She deserved an honest answer. He just didn’t know if he could give her what she wanted. Instead, he cupped her face and leaned forward, kissing her with undisguised tenderness.

  “New motto or new tactical approach to torture?” She squinted at him. “Kisses for ass-kickings.”

  Ignoring the question, he said, “How else am I going to get you to kiss me without inciting a two-person riot?” The mattress dipped as he sat. “I had to put a stop to things because my homeowner’s insurance won’t repair damage caused by immortal smackdowns.”

  She blinked, guileless. “You should look into an underwriter.”

  He grinned so wide his cheeks ached.

  “So. Chains, huh? I had no idea this was your secret kink.” Her lips feathered up slightly.

  Heat flooded his face and his groin. “I didn’t want to have to...” Why was this so hard? He’d not faltered this much when his own men had been sent for his head. “I didn’t want to be forced to take your head.”

  “I wasn’t sent to kill you.”

  The swift topic change stole his smile and knotted his stomach. “Then why are you here, Rhyan?”

  Faint color streaked her cheeks. “I told you already. I was supposed to gather information on you, try to determine how you do what you do. The assignment was my penance. It was that or be cast out.”

  “They’re using me to punish you?” He couldn’t disguise his shock. Or his confusion. “For what?”

  The fullness of her lips thinned. Eyes drifting closed, she turned her head on a small shake.

  He traced his thumb over her soft skin. “I’m nephilim. Fallen. You can’t shock me.”

  “I give in to temptation.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “A lot.”

  “You’re telling me you have a pie addiction and can’t stop with one slice? A need to dance ’til the music quits? An inability to pass the puppy in the window? The overwhelming urge to—”

  “Yes,” she said, interrupting. “To all of it.”

  “Hmm.” He didn’t know what else to say.

  “It seemed like approaching you directly would prove I could do what they’d demanded—talk to you while resisting the variety of temptations inside. But the biggest temptation of all met me before I made it to the door.” A deep breath made her wince before she looked turned toward him, eyes serious. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

  He fought the urge to make her say he was that temptation. No doubt she meant it that way, but to hear it... Despite his efforts to remain removed, one question burned through his mind like wind-fueled wildfire. Ironically, he didn’t want to know the answer. Hell, he really didn’t want to know, didn’t want to hear he was one of a million faceless lovers she’d taken over uncountable years. There were some questions that had to have answers before he could even begin to know what to do, though. “Are men a temptation for you?” He hated the way his voice squeezed through his closed throat.

  She continued to stare, clearly weighing her answer.

  His lungs stopped working. His pulsed stalled out. His brain flatlined. He opened his mouth to tell her to forget it, not to answer, but wasn’t fast enough.

  “You, Dominic. Only you.”

  Chapter Eight

  Rhyan hadn’t meant to tell Dominic the truth. Not that she’d intended to lie to him, but telling a portion of the truth would have been smarter than dumping the whole mess on him at once. Yet there it was, in all its screwed-up glory. And his response wasn’t reassuring. Not the part where he didn’t say anything. No, it was the shell-shocked look on his face that told her she’d said too much too soon. She’d been emotionally slutty. Excellent. Time to redress her emotions. A straitjacket and ball gag ought to do the job. Maybe a blindfold. Her poker face sucked at the moment. Nothing about this situation worked in her favor.

  “So, what do I have to do to get you to let me up?” She could break free but didn’t want to put Dominic on the defensive. Again. She cleared her throat. “I mean, if this is your version of bedroom games, I’m sure we can negotiate, maybe find a reasonable compromise?” The last was meant to be assertive, a solid statement, not a tentative question. Closing her eyes and drawing a deep breath, she tried not to think about the fact she was bound. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

  “I need to know you’re not gunning for me, Rhyan. And right now? I’m not convinced.”

  Chains bruised her breasts as she tried to slow her breathing down. She couldn’t get enough air. “Please. You have to let me up.”

  Dominic’s lips moved, but she didn’t hear a word he said as panic swarmed her, a deafening buzz filling her ears. Long muscles in her arms and thighs began to twitch first. Her abs tightened and wouldn’t release. Neck muscles corded. Metal groaned as she began to thrash, straining against the links. Something popped. Pain exploded in her right thigh and hip, leaving a charcoal-colored burn on her aura. She screamed.

  “Rhyan!”

  She knew Dominic had yelled her name, but it didn’t matter. No way could she stop thrashing. Memories washed over her, a deluge of fear that dried her mouth and coated her tongue with a taste as bitter as quinine. Sweat pooled under her breasts and trickled down her temples in runnels. Hands fisted. Nostrils flared, searched for air. Her chin whipped from side to side. Skin twitched. She itched all over and couldn’t scratch. “Up. Let me up. Please. Up. Up,” she chanted mindlessly as she struggled to free herself.

  “Easy.” Dominic’s soothing voice registered.

  “Can’t.” Head thrashing, she repeated the one-word answer over and over.

  Pressure on her thighs increased. Black memories herded her toward an inky mental abyss. A shout escaped, a loud plea for mercy. Memories billowed up, roiling with uncontrollable violence. Some belonged to her. Most belonged to the angels who had tortured her. Still, the memories were hers. They were the one possession that was hers and hers alone, and she’d give them away without hesitation. Hell, she’d pay someone to take them.

>   The pain in her damaged thigh demanded her attention. She tried to lift the leg. Bad, bad idea. Not only did it not work but the injury blazed anew, blistering the skin and muscle. Another scream escaped. This one cut off abruptly as panic choked her.

  The physical cruelty of the chains dissolved with loud clanks as they pooled on the floor. Tow straps chafed as they slid over abused skin. Buckles clanked as they hit the floor.

  Full-body shakes took over. She wanted to cover her face, sob into her hands, make sure her leg was still there, get up and run away. None of it happened. Instead, strong arms scooped her up and held her—light but tight—against a solid chest. Dominic. The source of her temptation, terror and deliverance. She didn’t know whether she wanted to hug him or shiv him. In the kidney. Oh, he’d live, but it would hurt like a bitch. The Caste had made every effort to ensure she knew firsthand what it would take to immobilize him. Asshats.

  Her eyes flared. Could they read minds? Would they punish her for criticizing their methods? Chances were moderately probable on the former and definitely probable on the latter. Remiel didn’t tolerate insubordination, willful or no. She shivered, only to moan aloud when her right leg moved.

  “Hey.” Dominic adjusted his grip. “Take it easy. I’ve got you.”

  Undeniable tenderness wound through his words, softening Rhyan’s anger, muting her panic. Or at least making the conflicting feelings less pervasive. Whatever. She’d take what she could get at the moment.

  She buried her nose in his bare chest and breathed. The compelling musk that coated his skin filled in the chinks in her composure, steadying her. Warmth suffused her limbs. Without thinking, she asked, “Why are you being so kind to me now? I haven’t told you what you want to hear.” The belligerence in her tone was unmistakable. She knew it. Heard it. Still didn’t give a damn.

  What in the name of the Divine is wrong with you?

  For once, her conscience didn’t dive in and assault her perceptions of want and need. That it stayed completely silent made her a bit crazy, though. It was never so quiet—

  Dominic interrupted her rambling thoughts to answer her question. “I’m being kind to you because I...need to.”

  “And that explains why you chained me down like I was Godzilla and you were the Tokyo Port Authority. Not wise to anger the monster,” she mumbled.

  Dominic chuffed out a laugh. “I’ve never been called a civil servant.” He adjusted his grip. “Your disdain is epic. History there I need to know about? I can see if there are monster rehab centers in the area. Maybe find you a nice day spa to work out your issues?”

  Issues. She definitely had them. There was the matter of the impending recall of her body to the Realm of Angels, the interview—interrogation—with the Caste, the need to preserve her soul and her desire to stay here, with this fallen creature.

  “We should probably get you the answers you need.” Dominic’s voice rumbled through her ear, soft and seductive.

  Comprehension made her eyes flare and her head hurt. Could he, would he, give her the information battle angels had been trying to glean from him for centuries? If he did, what would she do with it? Nothing good could come of it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dom.”

  “Dom,” he repeated, not bothering to hide the smile in his voice.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s just...well, my friends call me Dom. Surprised me to hear you say it. That’s all.”

  Friends. She wanted to throw up. Hit him. Pummel him. Through all of this, she’d wanted him. She’d made no secret of her wants and needs, had left herself more vulnerable than ever, to ensure he understood. Yet he’d relegated her to the “Friend” column in his life. No way could she exist as his friend, watching him take different women as she’d done before this. This. Needing him left her hurting. That seemed to be the norm between them. Friends, she thought again. Throat tight, she pulled her head away from his chest, away from the subtle scent of sex and the unidentifiable spice that was simply his smell. “I need to lie down.” She cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the dense mass of regrets lodged there. Such an uncomfortable feeling. How did humans survive it? “Is there not another bed close?” she asked as they passed door after closed door.

  Dominic’s body went rigid and it took him a moment to answer. “I’m returning you to my bed.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  She peered up at him through downcast lashes. He stared straight ahead. Luscious lips had thinned dangerously, blue eyes shielding the emotions hidden in their depths. Sighing, she lifted a shaking hand to her forehead. “I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Now who’s answering every question with a question?” she snapped.

  He jerked as if she’d slapped him. “What’s going on, Rhyan?”

  “Another question. You should have abandoned your career in security and tried out for that television show. What’s it called?” She tapped her chin and looked up at him with feigned innocence. “I think it’s Whose Line Is It Anyway. They play this game where contestants have to keep asking questions—”

  His fingers curled into her skin hard enough to bruise. “I know the game.”

  That growled response rumbled through her, its heavy weight settling in her pelvis to play with her heartbeat. Her core ached, felt miserably empty. She craved him, wanted him to take her one more time before they did what they had to do.

  Dominic looked down at her, pupils blown. Licking his lips, he drew in a deep breath.

  He knew.

  * * *

  “You’re killing me,” Dominic said as he pulled Rhyan in closer—the scent of her arousal was strong enough to make him stumble.

  She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Probably not the best turn of phrase at this point.”

  “Fair enough. Apologies.” The muscles in his jaw were sore from grinding his teeth tonight. That’s a first. It had been ages since anyone invaded his personal space and pushed him to this point. Personal space, indeed, he thought as he carried Rhyan back to his bed one final time.

  Reality plowed into him like a hockey player intent on causing as much damage as possible before the ref interfered. Only grace got him to the bed. The same failed him as he essentially dropped Rhyan. Someone blow the damn whistle already, he silently pleaded. He couldn’t think of this being her final time in his bedroom. Not now. He needed...needed... Fuck. He snorted. That would do just fine. For now. Slipping his pants off, he stood bare before her.

  Hungry eyes roved over his body. Her lips parted. The pink tip of her tongue traced darker lips. A sheen of moisture remained. She rolled her lips together, eyeing his raging erection with undisguised need.

  Or want? Dominic’s hands balled into fists.

  Rhyan froze.

  He forced himself to relax. No need to frighten her. If he did, he wouldn’t get what he so desperately wanted. His subconscious poked into his conscious mind to voice its opinion. Her. Want her. “Yeah.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “Pardon?”

  A swift shake of his head before he started toward the bed.

  “I don’t think I can do this, Dom...inic.”

  Muscles in his shoulders tightened so hard he was scared bones would break if they didn’t ease up pretty quickly. “I’m fine with you calling me Dom.”

  “I’m not.” She reached for the comforter, pulling it up with a wince. “My hip and thigh are throbbing. Any chance you have some Tylenol or Advil? Or, even better, both?”

  He started for the bathroom. “You regularly take human drugs?”

  “Not as regularly as you take humans.”

  That stopped him so fast he rocked in place. When he turned, he didn’t try to disguise the heat of his anger. It boiled his blood, turned his organs to ash, incinerated any chivalry he might have had. He started for her, steps long and strong. “You’ll do without the drugs.”

  She scooted toward the edge of the bed farthest from him. Every move
of her right hip made her bite her lip, her hand hovering over the bruised area but never touching it.

  “Don’t think acting like a little wounded bird is going to save you.”

  “Save me from what?” she demanded.

  He waited, silent, until he saw understanding break the horizon of her understanding, that internal blaze of awareness staining her cheeks pink.

  “No. Oh, no you don’t. We’re done.” She tried to scoot faster.

  Catching her good ankle, he pulled her across the sheets. Bare skin hissed. Both her long hair and fiery green eyes crackled with electricity. She was going to fight him. Hell. Yes. The idea sent a second surge of blood to his groin, his cock fully erect and ready to rumble. He grinned.

  She gave him a feral smile that promised pain. “Don’t touch me.”

  If she really didn’t want this, he’d leave it alone. But until she could tell him to fuck off without looking like she’d like to ride him into the sunset, he wasn’t letting this go. Leaning forward, he got in her face and, with only his fingertips on her breastbone, gently pushed.

  She fell onto her elbows, breasts thrust forward. Dusky nipples had pearled in the room’s cool. A rush of goose flesh raced over sun-kissed skin.

  His mouth watered. “Don’t touch, huh? You shouldn’t throw down the gauntlet if you’re not willing to fight for the right to pick it back up.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she slowly pushed herself up so she rested on the heels of her hands, chin jutting out and eyes sparkling. “Says who?” she demanded.

  “Me.”

  “And why should I do what you say? Because you’re the king of...” She lifted both brows, waiting.

  “You, Rhyan. I rule you.” He knew he was going to hell for this but couldn’t bring himself to care. Some things were worth the consequence. This was one of them. And from the way her eyes widened, pupils expanded and breath hitched, she wasn’t about to argue with him. “Do you want me to rule you?”