by Scott, Talyn
“I had nothing to do with it,” he said while shifting gears. Looking in the rearview mirror and all around, he acted as though hell was fast on their heels when they parked inside a darkened garage.
She recognized a restored corvette parked next to them. “You really brought me here. I didn’t know you still owned it.”
“How could I sell our home, angel?”
“Oh, God.” She looked around in the darkness, feeling her mouth gape. “I don’t want to be here.”
“You will after you relax,” he said while pulling her out of the car and scooping her in his arms. He kicked the car door shut, leaving a huge dent.
“You dented that on purpose?”
“Afraid so.” He gave her a crooked grin.
Obviously, it really wasn’t his car. “I don’t want to be here,” she repeated childishly. If she could just get down and walk, she would get away. Her thoughts bounced back to the guy that had forced her inside his car outside of the club. “What did you do to that man who took me? Wait, you called each other brother.”
“You do have a strong will, angel. I’m surprised you remember after that sweet nap you took.” He held her firmly. One arm under her thighs, a little too close to her bottom, and the other curved around her shoulders. “By the way,” he said, evading her question, “you still snore. I guess it’s a good thing I sleep like the dead.”
They were inside. A wrenching heartbeat stunned her. She was inadvertently going back in time, taking those steps she’d forgone years ago. He was carrying her over the threshold. The way he would have if they married. Blythe didn’t miss the determined edge to his jaw, understanding Sixten tallied this moment as a significant change in their mutual direction. “I’m not sleeping with you,” she claimed resolutely.
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m going back to my apartment.”
“As God as my witness,” he growled dramatically, carrying her like an angry Rhett Butler on steroids up a back staircase which led from the kitchen to the master suite, “if you even step foot near that building again, I will burn the entire thing down with Ryan and that fucker, Sven, inside.” He smiled tightly while negotiating the upper landing. “Have I made myself perfectly clear?”
“As clear as any asshole can be.” Two more rooms and they stopped. Where did the fangs disappear? She managed to lift a shaky hand and push her index finger inside his mouth to inspect it. He stopped her with his tongue, forcefully sucking until her finger touched the back of his throat. A languid pulsation rolled over her flesh, fast and sure, until she thought she was going to climax in his arms. What the hell? Her nap…she must’ve been dreaming about the fangs. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it.” Her legs wobbled when he lowered her to the bathroom tile. He released her finger with an audible pop.
“Why play coy? Step off your high horse. We’re adults with needs and wants. We both know that I’m not doing anything you don’t want.” He smiled like the devil and licked his lips.
He stared down at her with the same, mesmerizing ice-green eyes that had watched her thrash with her first orgasm. She may have given him her virginity, but she was fighting to keep her pride. “What’s really going on? Tell me.” The tile was cold under her feet and she realized, somewhere along the way, he had removed her shoes. “Six, seriously, you’ve got to give me some answers. It’s my life.” She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and she looked rough.
“Instead, we could talk about that rockin’ orgasm you had in the alley. By the way, that’s the slightest taste of what’s to come.” He curled his hand around her nape and lapped her throat like a cat. “Oh, the things we’re going to do together, Blythe. So many configurations and so little time,” he murmured against her collarbone, while herding her near the wall.
“Yeah, well, that bout of exhibitionism in the alley doesn’t mean squat. I was just horny, and you were there.” She tried to ease away. “I haven’t changed my mind in all these years, and I’m not giving in tonight, Sixten.” Nothing was right about this, and by his stance, he wasn’t anywhere close to backing down. He was weirder than usual. Violence mixed with heady sexuality.
“Unacceptable.”
“I’ve grown up.” He was a hottie, a hottie who wanted her. Why do I have to be unforgiving? Her eyes narrowed to his major swell calling her name from behind his fly. She said weakly, “I see things more clearly now.”
“Good. Then you’ll enjoy seeing me naked.” He pulled off his jacket and gradually eased his shirt over his head. Yeah, he was taking his time, a striptease to whet her appetite. But who said there was harm in looking?
More than that, who could turn away from perfection?
Sun bronzed skin and heaving muscles defined a too-good-to-be-true physique. His waist tensed and relaxed as he kicked off his boots. She followed the stark tendons in his forearm, the veins running under his skin, connecting bulging flesh to bulging flesh in a bodily roadmap she wanted to follow with her tongue. Had she ever been this horny? She knew what it was like to be under those arms, underneath that fearsome body.
And so did her matron of honor.
She snapped out of it and made a dash for the door, but he was leaning against it before she reached the knob. “How?” She felt peculiar, warm prickles touch her skin, flicking her entire body with flaming licks. Relaxing her. And she knew she should be leaving, or running…and someone else was after her. Wasn’t he? No, maybe not. Her stomach clenched, but not from fear.
“I’m faster than you are.” He loosened his belt, leisurely pulling it through, loop by loop. Without taking his eyes from hers, he slipped his hand inside his pants, giving himself a slow squeeze before deliberately sliding it out. “Get naked, or do you still prefer to be undressed with my teeth?”
She dropped the f bomb, but not in protest.
His lip curled. “You’re talking nasty to me? Delicious. What other changes are in store?” He flattened his palm on her sternum. “You’re definitely curvier than when you were eighteen. I can’t wait to sink into those.” His middle finger traced her cleavage.
She heard the Jacuzzi start up, and then he cleverly traded places with her. Sixten stretched her hands over her head, holding her wrists with one determined hand. A kiss hit her lips accompanied by a warm tongue pushing through her mouth until she opened wide. His rippling, oversized body thrust against hers. Rocking her pelvis with a primitive dance no normal woman could refuse and stay sane.
His kiss demanded everything, ruthlessly burrowing until it reached her soul, pulled it out by his teeth and devoured her humanity. His strong fingers caressed her curves, sinking into the flesh of her bottom. Releasing her wrists, he lifted her higher, sliding her up the wall until he had the back of her knees over his shoulders. His tawny hair tickled her thighs and his breath warmed her center.
“Ah, moja láska, I can’t wait to be inside you.” She heard a small ripping sound – her panties, right before his tongue struck. Hot, long, languid, strokes torched her then cooled her. Torched her then cooled her. Repeatedly. He didn’t tire and she spurred him on. One after the other, wicked laps brought her higher and higher until his incessant mouth, the one that just stole her soul, transformed her into a nascent, snarling animal. She fisted her hands in his hair and he speared her with his tongue, rousing her with the most intimate of kisses.
Maybe, at some point, she thought to pull him away, but she forgot why. “You taste like mine,” he spoke inside her, blowing heat deep within her body until trickling moisture turned into torrents. “Ah, Blythe” – he pulled his head back and his lips glistened with her response to him – “for so long, I’ve dreamed of tasting you again. And now that I have, I don’t know how I’ve made it without you.” Stubble abraded her plumped flesh when he spoke; his scratchy chin was her new sex toy. “I really don’t.”
While she trembled on the cusp of orgasm, he slid her down. As her breasts passed his mouth, he rent her shirt and bra, exposing and then skimming her nippl
es with his evil tongue. Her mounds grew heavier, hardening until they peaked with oversized pink berries. He feasted on her, stoking the fire low in her belly, bringing her back to the brink of relief before changing sides and giving her opposite breast even more attention. He stopped again, teasing, sparking her ire.
“Six.” She gritted her teeth.
“Not yet.”
The Jacuzzi was full and bubbling. He spun her against the wall, pushing her heated nipples against the cool surface while using his talented thumb to strum her swollen clitoris. Flick. Flick. Flick. “I’m going to crawl so far inside of you,” he panted nearly a foot over her head, enclosing her body with his, “that you’ll never be able to leave me again.”
Faster flicks, slower flicks, a random pattern coupled with an inherent rhythm. Drowning in the rhythm, she knew he was determined to torment her. Make her beg for his carnal mercy. Blythe sucked in a sharp breath, sensing his naked chest against her naked back. Somehow, he’d stripped her completely, leaving her entirely nude. She felt his zipper against her bare bottom, his long fingers moving around. An ominous unzipping interrupted their harsh exhalations. Metal teeth bit into her flesh and she reached around, grabbing his muscled ass as he undulated against her. “How’d you -”
“Shush,” he said with a thundering growl. “I’m raving mad for you. Starving for your body and now the hunger is inescapable.”
She shivered as his words hit her nape, making the silky hairs stand up. Logic was lost. Pieces moved on her internal chessboard. Not the king, not the queen, but a shiny, black knight with flaming, red eyes aimed straight at her libido. “I wanna come.”
“Say I can’t think, Six.”
He whirled her around, pushing her against the granite countertop. “Damn you,” she groaned. He tipped his dick inside her dripping lips, stroking in an inch, taking out an inch. Again. Going in an inch, then he left her empty. She watched him poised behind her, the mirror reflecting his bunched shoulders as he held back what she desperately wanted. Sweat beaded his forehead. White teeth clenched inside an open panting mouth. Nostrils flared and sharp tendons sculpted his neck, straining up to a jutting jaw.
“Say I’m not going to leave you, Six.”
“No. Sex. Only sex.”
“Oh, Blythe” – he pressed most of his weight against her back, molding his body to hers, and cupped his palm around the front of her throat - “you’re refusals only sweeten your capitulation.” In one deep thrust, he was all the way inside her. Her walls quivered around him, confused with his of his unyielding size, his possession. He always had something that no one else had and she couldn’t understand it. The sensation of him this way was insurmountable.
Sixten Kovac could consume anyone with his cock. Eat them alive with his animalistic eroticism. He moved her hair over her shoulder and sinuously ran his tongue up her spine, then pressed his face against hers - cheek to cheek. She stared at their reflection as he took her body. He was beautiful. A formidable man was moving behind her – all thickly male, maybe his possessiveness skated a little too close to his primitive ancestors. But who was she to complain when he could make her feel this way? She moaned when he reached the top and hissed when he withdrew, feeling suddenly empty and lost.
He pushed in again and she figured he touched her pelvic bones that time. “You are a voyeuristic fantasy, Blythe.”
She wiggled for him, enticing him to hurry. Release her ‘Six-imposed’ pent-up hell from dangling her over orgasm’s cliff one too many times. Then they could start all over again when she caught her breath. But his moves were precisely driven and his desire was methodically controlled, though his eyes told a different story. They were dangerously wild as his gaze flashed between her full ass and the mirror displaying her shallow, open-mouthed breathing and jiggling breasts.
“You’re not rushing me, Blythe. I’ve been too long without you and I’m enjoying it way too much to hurry. The feel of you…ah, just the feel of you again.”
In a blinding movement, they were in the Jacuzzi. He was riding her while she rode a powerful jet. Water hit her swollen bundle of nerves while Sixten swirled and tormented her g-spot. “Ooooh, Six, yeah…” She tossed her head. Black hair flew all over the place as she shuddered and groaned her way over that damn cliff. Finally. “Oh, shit!” Lights were blinking in and out. No, that was her vision.
“Do you love me?”
“Six.”
He withdrew and flipped her around. Water lapped her puckered nipples. Strong hands raised her over his lap, easing her down his shaft in torturous increments. “Answer me.”
“Please, it’s too sensitive.”
His smile was wicked as he slammed the last inch home. “Say it, baby, say it for me.”
“I have no reason to love you anymore.” She bit her lip. Stifling screams he longed to hear - screams to stroke his ego while he stroked her body – or if she was honest with herself, she was biting off the words saying ‘I love you’.
A warm, wet mouth sucked her neck as he pumped her. Then he pressed her ass to that same jet and spread her halves open. Her release was so immediate, so violent, she nearly blacked-out. But not before she got a load of Six. His head was back, his shoulders straining as he hissed between dark, erotic tremors. She slumped on his gorgeous body, placed a hand on his scratchy jaw and kissed away the pained expression on his face.
“You let me in your skin just now. You’re nowhere near over me,” he whispered, both still experiencing aftershocks. “The words didn’t come, but I felt them rolling off your amazing body.” He kissed a line across her collarbone, nipping here and there. “You do love me, and you’re home now, Blythe. You’re home with me.”
That’s when the lights really went out.
“Six?” He pulled her out of the water and wrapped her in a towel so quickly her head spun until she tasted bile. She heard a rustle and then his zipper. “How can you see anything?”
“Stay here,” he barked, pushing her to the floor and putting his shirt in her hands. “I mean it, Blythe. Stay in this bathroom.”
A strange sensation came over her, and she pressed her fingertips to her temples to push it away. She lost her warm prickles, her sense of comfort and relaxation. A cold, imaginary blade scraped her spine, replacing her serenity. “Something wants me.” Somehow, at that moment, Blythe felt it. All of tonight’s weirdness revolved around her not Sixten.
He wasn’t simply taking her, but possibly protecting her. From what?
An odd shiver crept across her skin. An inert rhythm vibrated her bones as if a languid current pulsed within her, connecting her soul to something far too powerful to comprehend. A calling card of something dark, and that ‘something’ was hunting her. “Don’t leave me here.” Blythe fumbled for Sixten, but he was long gone.
Chapter 14
“I’ll pretend you aren’t trespassing, werewolves. In return, all of you will pretend to be lost on your moonlight stroll.” Sixten crossed his arms over his bare chest, staring down from his beachside deck. “We’ll all go back to what we were doing as if nothing happened. Fair enough? In fact, I think that’s more than generous on my part.”
“Release her.” Bane stepped forward in mid-transformation – much larger, more dangerous; a voice filled with gravel, and mouth exposing strong canines. Werewolves didn’t grow fur and four legs as depicted by legends of long ago, or overactive human imaginations. They stood upright, walking as men. When in mid-transformation, they moved with otherworldly power. A mystic no one could follow. They were their human façade – though not human at all - only inherently charged and very, very lethal. Bigger and stronger than thousands of human males combined, and most were magically blessed with various powers through certain bloodlines. While in full-transformation, they walked the razor blade of sick nightmares.
And Sixten was staring down five of them.
“Release her from what?”
Bane took a step forward. “I’m sure you enthralled her.”
Sixten had never dealt with such disaccord in this area. Raised in a community controlled by immortals, the werewolves and the vampires were close neighbors between the two islands: Captiva and Sanibel. The Captiva community was becoming more crowded by the day, considering the Species Breed Vampires had to share their digs with the Habaline Shapeshifters and their mixed-bloods.
All had been well between the vamps and the wolves until Maestru had pulled some serious shit in Scotland, fracturing his relationship with the North American Alpha, Jayce Jordan. Simply put, he poisoned Rock, head of security for the entire North American Pack, took the Alpha Queen and fed from her repeatedly. Using Tatum Shirley as a shield and bargaining tool to get what he wanted. How stupid was that? Even deranged with bloodlust, Sixten wasn’t foolish enough to come between an immortal and his mate.
In his questionable efforts, Maestru rescued a small number of females from a Habaline breeding camp well hidden in Scotland but sacrificed any comfortable coexistence with the Weres in doing so. His means didn’t justify the end, at least, not according to Jayce Jordan. So now, something ruthless and fierce was brewing between the two species. As if two feuding crime families controlled the area to see who could get to the top first, and stay there.
Four werewolves flanked Bane in a v-formation. Something Sixten was more than familiar with, a fighting stance presented as an open threat, especially since all werewolves were in mid-transformation. Flawless killers who struck without mercy, werewolves loved a good bloodbath as much as the Species. And when they were at their worse, fully transformed, they lost respect for life or any laws that protected it. “You have no rights here.”
“You don’t have a say in territorial rights when you have shifters floating on your property, phasing in and out,” Bane breathed through his open mouth. “They are protecting you, and we are here to protect her. Give her up. Now.”
