“Oh…” Daisy ran her hand over his belly and he squirmed, his abs tightening under her tickling fingers, which only made her want to tickle him more.
He smirked, all cocky and handsome. “My seventy-two-year-old grandpa still has a six pack.”
“Nice.”
Gavin laughed and looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t bulk up no matter how I lift.” He scooped his hands under her butt and set her on the counter. “But I’m pretty strong.” He buried his face in her chest and curled his arms around her waist.
He didn’t need to compare himself to Ladon. “I don’t like big muscles.” He was perfect the way he was.
Gavin yanked up her shirt and she pulled it off, revealing her utilitarian and comfortable bra. Nothing special about it. Nothing sexy. Gavin didn’t seem to notice.
He unhooked it as fast as he’d pulled off her shirt and it flew across the kitchen, landing on Radar’s ears. Her dog lifted his head off his bed and sniffed the material, his big puppy eyes wide and attentive.
Daisy laughed. “You hit Radar.”
Gavin didn’t look. He didn’t seem to care. Her nipples took all his attention.
Pleasure fired from her breasts into her body in tight, pulsing waves that rode her bones all the way to the tips of her fingers and the ends of her toes. She felt them crest through her skull to the top of her head, and they made her nails dig into his shoulders.
“Jesus,” he groaned. His fingers worked the zipper on her pants.
But she still wore her boots. “Laces,” she growled and pointed at her foot. She couldn’t reach her boot around his body.
Gavin grinned against her breastbone. “I hear your animal side surfacing,” he growled too, mimicking the roughness of her voice. “It’s sexy.”
His fingers danced over the laces and her boots dropped off her feet. He tossed her jeans across the kitchen the way he’d tossed her bra, and this time her clothes landed on Ragnar. Her poor dog woofed and sighed and set his head back on his bed without bothering to shake off the denim.
Gavin kissed her bellybutton at the same time he yanked on her utilitarian cotton panties, again not seeming to care about their unsexiness, but he had her on the counter and he couldn’t get them off. He stepped back.
He cupped her breasts, thumbing her nipples, before running his hands over her hips and belly. His expression said everything: Want you now and Oh fuck yeah danced with the joy twinkling in his bright blue eyes.
Gavin lifted his open palms up and pulled them to his chest. Want, he signed.
Daisy pulled him close again. She sniffed along his neck and toward the pulse point under his ear. “Goddamn,” she whispered. Even mixed with the remaining wine in his system, the desire rising from his skin carried a depth she’d never smelled from a man before, and reminded her of well-cared-for, hand-tooled, and hand-tanned leather.
“Pretty female.” The roughness rippled through his voice low and animalistic, but he grinned. When she rescued him from the Burners, she’d enthralled out his animal nature so that she could heal the allergic reaction that almost killed him, and pretty female was one of the few phrases he’d been able to speak.
“Don’t turn australopithecine on me, Dr. Bower.” The possibility of sex with him in not-so-human mode thrilled her but it felt too much like the thrill that came with being chased by a Burner. Or a bad Shifter.
Maybe later, after they’d talked about it and both felt comfortable.
“Ape man like pretty female.” Gavin chuckled against her neck.
Why did she wait so long? Why did she push him away? His hands on her chest, her hips, her thighs felt as quick and brilliant as his mind.
But she was on her kitchen counter. “I prepare food right here.” Daisy tapped the granite with her finger. She didn’t want the cold hardness under her butt. She wanted the intense heat rising off Gavin’s skin and his sinewy strength.
He grunted and kicked one of the stools toward the refrigerator. Quickly, he pushed the condoms toward the other side of the island and within reach of the stool, and lifted her off the counter. He tossed her a little as he swung her toward the stool, just enough to get his hands on her panties, and he yanked again as he set her down.
She wobbled on the front edge of the stool but he held her steady against the cool stainless steel front of her fridge.
His mouth descended to her breasts. One hand pulled her panties off at the same time the other kneaded the muscle of her shoulder.
Her panties followed her other clothes across the room, and his now free hand swiped for the condoms.
His belt buckle released quickly, but working the button of his fly while he twisted and ripped at the box proved harder than she expected. “Hold still,” she breathed. His erection rubbing against the fabric felt thick and as hard as the granite countertop, and damn it, she wanted to touch and stroke and give back to him the same need he pulsed to her.
His zipper released.
Daisy pushed his jeans down his hips. Working the waistband of his boxer-briefs over his erection took extra care, but she released what she wanted.
Gavin watched her work, his eyes hooded and his lips parted. Her first stroke incited a loud groan. With her second, he looked up at the ceiling and his entire body bucked toward her. The third caused him to grab her wrists.
His face took on the tightness of intense concentration. “Do you smell how much I want this? How much I want you?” His kiss locked onto her mouth and he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth.
His finger pressed into her folds and circled her clitoris.
Moaning, she stroked him again.
“Goddamn, woman, you feel incredible.” A second finger found its way in.
“Put on a condom.” No more stroking. She needed him now.
An empty package flipped toward the sink. Gavin grabbed the lube and expertly rolled on the condom but he didn’t immediately press into her.
His fingers found her folds again and another wave of intense pleasure crashed through her belly. All the guarding she felt she needed to do—for his safety and for hers—fell away. She wouldn’t keep him at a distance anymore.
His face contorted as if the stress of keeping his control hurt. His scent shifted to a richer, stronger musk, one that flooded her senses and made her almost lose control. She gripped his hips and drew him closer.
Gently, Gavin kissed her cheekbone, and his lips worked its way to her top lip. The tip of his erection pressed in, replacing the brilliance of his fingers, and Daisy moaned. Her hips wiggled on their own, shifted on their own, to grant him access.
His warm breath flowed across her skin. “Tight,” he groaned, his mouth next to her ear.
He felt brilliant. No other word made sense. Just bright and intense and if she looked at this moment she’d squint and have to shade her eyes.
One of his strong hands gripped her hip. The fingers of his other stroked her cheek. Slowly, he pressed into her, his lips dancing over hers again.
“Ahhh,” she whispered. No man had ever felt so good. So correct.
His grip on her hip intensified. How he held his lips against her cheek changed, rounding first, then drawing back. His teeth worked along her skin.
His hand lifted from her hip. He continued to move, his face against her neck, but his arms pulled in, and he tapped his chest. His fists closed, and he crossed his arms over his heart, then he touched her chest with the tip of his pointer finger.
She recognized the signs. Knew exactly what they meant. But it was too early for I love you, too early for—
A nearly silent hoot rose from his throat as his thrusts increased in speed and depth.
His primitive side had surfaced twice since she healed him after the Burners attacked him and Rysa on campus, both times in highly emotional moments.
“Gavin…” she whispered.
He bit her earlobe. Not hard, a nip more than anything. It felt… strange. Good. And scary.
His right hand swooped th
rough the air between them, then curled in toward his heart before he slapped his hand against his chest.
She didn’t recognize the full sign, but she got the gist of the last part: Mine.
A new grunt popped from his throat and he slammed into her, his arms tense and his fingers digging into her hips.
A hot, screaming memory she never wanted to experience again flashed into her consciousness: That motherfucker Aiden Blake and his strong grip on her body. His sweet but manipulative words. The things whispered to keep her under control: Beautiful One. My beloved. My mate.
Mine.
“Gavin!” She cupped his cheeks. He wasn’t Aiden. He wasn’t a psychopathic Fate. He did not want to hurt her.
She knew Gavin would never hurt her. He’d signed I love you. But Aiden told her he—
Gavin blinked, his eyes wide, and he tried to slow down. Tried to reassert his human over his animal, but the desire and need wafting from his pores overpowered what little control he mustered.
His back tightened. A spasm rocked through his body and he pressed into her, his abs curling in first, then his back arching out. “Daisy…” choked from his throat. “I…”
The man was returning to her, the real man, the one she trusted. He had to return to her. He had to be Gavin and not an inhuman thing. Not a monster.
She pulled him close, touching as much of her skin to his as she could, and breathed out ‘human.’ “Please come back to me,” she whispered.
Behind him, Radar and Ragnar stood up in their beds, both sensing that something was wrong.
“Daisy,” he croaked. “Oh my God you’re shaking.” Gavin pulled out but didn’t pull away. A harsh hint of fear rode out on his breath. “I didn’t mean for it to surface again. I thought it was gone. I’m so sorry. I—”
“You’re okay now?” He didn’t mean to frighten her. Why was she acting like this? She loosened his animal and gave it the means to surface. She waved the dogs to lie back down. This had nothing to do with Aiden.
Gavin stroked her cheek, touched her hair, caressed her shoulder. “I’m sorry. If you want me to go, I’ll go. I’ll—”
“No!” She was shaking. “Don’t go. Please.”
Gavin kept his gaze riveted to every twitch and flutter her body made. “I won’t.” He pulled her tight to his chest. “I’ll stay. I’m so sorry.” He kissed her temple. “Do you want to talk about it?”
If I talk about it, Aiden will kill you, she thought.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
Gavin froze in place, muscles so tense he felt like concrete in her arms. The fear that should rise off him, did not.
This time, Gavin Bower smelled of cold and ice; of steely resolve. This time, when he growled, it came from a very human place. Determination lifted from his pores. Strong, intense determination fueled by a new, roiling anger.
“He will never hurt you again,” her normal boyfriend said.
She only hoped he was correct.
Chapter Fourteen
Human, Daisy closes her door. A pause. Gavin and the dogs accompanied her into her bedroom.
About time, Ladon pushed. She should be happy.
Gavin also. The beast stretched up the steps to the lower level and curled his head around the banister at the top. Do you wish to go out still?
After Rysa laid her warming touch on his temples, the compulsion to check the property had eased. But others needed to know of tonight’s revelations about Mount Rushmore and Vivicus. He had yet to contact Andreas and his sister.
Rysa had pulled him close, whispering enticements of a leisurely morning of lovemaking, and drifted back into sleep. The sheets rustled when she shifted, and her shallow, dreamy breathing mixed with the ever-present electrical buzz of the house. A faint glimmer from the streetlight outside painted artificial moon glow on her cheek. Leaving her to make the necessary calls took more effort than he cared to admit.
Once again, Ladon pulled on his t-shirt and jeans. And once again, Ladon and Dragon crept down the stairs.
Low mumbles echoed from Daisy’s room as they passed, and the bed squeaked. The hall smelled of beeswax candles, and a warm shimmer puddled along the door’s bottom edge. Daisy and the kid were not yet asleep.
We should take care of the dogs tomorrow morning, Ladon pushed. It’d be his and the beast’s gift to acknowledge Daisy and Gavin’s new relationship.
Perhaps the kid would move in. He might irritate Ladon, but having him here would make looking out for him easier.
The beast undulated down the main stairs to the first floor. I will watch for Ragnar and Radar, he pushed. They are good dogs and behave for me.
They would, but the beast could not go down to the back door without Ladon. The distance was within their limit, but uncomfortable nonetheless.
Ladon stopped in the mudroom and checked the wall-mounted scabbard-holster next to the back door that held Daisy’s shotgun. He made the necessary up-out-up tugs needed to release the holding equipment’s many mechanical fingers. Quickly, he checked the weapon. It looked dirtier than he liked, as did the holster mechanism. He returned the gun to its place, but he’d take it down tomorrow. Perhaps teach the kid how to properly clean the weapon.
This late in the year, no insects buzzed in the yard. A plastic skeleton on the neighbor’s porch snapped in the breeze, but no goblins milled about. Even though ghosts returned to haunt their world, at least this Samhain would pass without blood and terror.
Come, Human. Dragon scaled the large oak on the property and stretched across, to the roof of the house. He clambered across the shingles, his hide dark and mimicking the sky, and settled himself over the peak.
Ladon rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck. The back wall of the house did not offer good handholds, and clouds obscured the moon. Picking out the siding’s strong points was more difficult than Ladon liked. But in their two months living with Daisy, he’d scaled the house multiple times. At this point, his muscle memory would take him up the side without issue.
The jump to the mudroom roof landed him a good, firm grip on the roofline. Ladon flexed his back and his biceps, and hauled his body onto the roof the way he would have pulled himself out of a pool. The casement around the window of the back bedroom offered another strong handhold, and he quickly scaled the wall to the eaves. He gripped the edge, pushed off from the wall, and swung his legs onto the roof.
Ladon checked the shingles as he walked to the peak, where the beast waited. Dragon snorted but did not shift positions. He blended into the roof and the sky but did not drop into full invisibility. His movements would be visible to anyone looking directly at the roof.
Ladon sat near his beast, his back to the chimney stack, and looked out over the neighborhood. A few rooms glowed here and there, but darkness draped over most of the houses, as it did the campus and the streets. A car crawled by a block away, but no other vehicles moved. And behind them, in the alley and not far from the garage, a fox sniffed at a large recycle bin.
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Derek was correct; it did whine less than the older versions. He still hated the damned thing.
The last time Ladon spoke to Dmitri, the Russian had insisted that he had Praesagio Industries well in hand. Andreas insisted that neither Trajan nor Hadrian would again threaten Ladon’s family. And Rysa’s parents were now living on-site in Portland, overseeing the rebuilding process.
The Fates at Praesagio swore they saw Vivicus only in the past, several directly to Ladon’s ear during one of their many calls, but an itch at the back of his mind would not go away, no matter how he tried to scratch it into nonexistence. Redacted documents from Praesagio’s Canadian facility suggested that the Fates on-site had had a difficult time reading Vivicus while he was in their custody, even though they found nothing on him other than Rysa’s talisman.
The corpse with Vivicus’s teeth gave off the same “frequency of difficulty.” Height and mass also matched. The evil son of a bitch was dead.
But there’d been a fight.
Ladon tapped his finger on the brick of the chimney stack. One must not underestimate one’s enemies and the one Fate Ladon knew had both the talent and the skill to expose the weave of an edited past—and thus the editor—vanished after Ladon sent him to The Land for his protection. Marcus and his partner, Harold, stole a car and disappeared shortly before the Seraphim showed up. At the time, Dmitri did not have the resources to track them. And now it seemed as if the last of the original Draki Prime had stepped off the Earth and floated away into space. No one knew where he and Harold hid.
So Ladon needed to use other methods. He tapped in multiple numbers for a group text: Figured out who Emmy’s daddy is.
“Emmy” being Emergency Rations, the corgi that Ivan stole from Vivicus during the altercation at Mount Rushmore.
Ladon waited.
Five minutes later, the phone rang.
“Dmitri,” Ladon said.
“Who?” the Russian asked.
“Vick.”
The pause that followed continued longer than Ladon liked. A glass clinked and Dmitri blew out a long, slow breath. “No other news?”
He asked if there had been other issues, other threats. “No,” Ladon said. “A most uneventful Samhain.” Daisy would tell her father of her new relationship in her own time.
“Good.” Another pause. “Those who… inquire… for me have admitted to a generalized difficulty with their work, but I will inquire more… forcefully. To make sure he is in fact unavailable for a paternity test.”
Rysa’s mother, Mira, had confided to Rysa about a “fogginess,” but had said it had not diminished her abilities. The sense had been that “a lot of change in a short period of time” caused Fates issues, but nothing that the well-trained among their breed could not handle.
“Perhaps the three who have been working the hardest need a vacation in the quiet splendor of the Canadian wilderness.” Dmitri’s glass clinked again.
He spoke of the triad who checked in with them every week. “They do put in a lot of hours.” They also seemed quite concerned about Gavin’s welfare. Daisy’s also.
All but Human Page 9
