“Is that so? And I suppose helping you included a good, hearty fuck?”
Before I know what’s happening, I slap him right across the cheek. “Don’t you ever speak that way in front of me again. If you do, the next time it’ll be my knee in your balls.” I stand and stare at him, with my chest heaving from anger.
Rafe’s face is mottled and he says nothing for a few seconds. Finally he nods. “I apologize. My words were uncalled for.”
“Clearly. If you had been here when Sabin returned, you would’ve have seen his injuries. It’s been a difficult time for all of us. I think we need to put this behind us and move forward.” How is it that I’m the peacekeeper here?
“She’s right,” Sabin says. The two men look at each other, and then nod.
I take a quick glance around the room and note that all the men are looking at me suspiciously. Now what do I do? Run and hide in Sabin’s room? Hell, no. I’m not going to do that. Reaching for Sabin’s hand, I lace my fingers with his, and am happy to feel him give mine a squeeze. I decide I need to say something.
“I’m sorry I’ve interrupted your mission. I promise to help as much as I can and not get in the way.” I hear a few of them mumbling. Tugging on Sabin’s hand, he looks at me. He has to know I need his help here. Thank god he gets the idea.
“Bring me up to speed. What’s going on with Charity?”
Rafe makes a harrumphing noise and says, “She’s dead.”
His words are like a fist rammed into my sternum. I stagger backwards, and my knees give out. If it weren’t for Sabin’s hand, I’d be flat on the floor.
“Bloody hell, Rafe. Can you be any more blunt?”
“You asked,” Rafe clips.
“Serena, are you okay?” Sabin asks. I can’t respond. Dead. Charity is dead. All because of a stupid necklace I found at the bottom of the sea. My brain grows fuzzy and my ears buzz. Voices come from a distance and the next thing I know, I’m on the floor, with Sabin’s face hovering above me.
“What happened?” I ask.
“You fainted.”
Weird. I’ve never fainted in my life. My head pounds so I rub my forehead. “Do you have any ibuprofen? I have a bad headache.”
“Sorry. We don’t use that stuff.”
“I have some in my bag if you can bring it to me.” He pulls me up and the room spins.
“You’d better lie back down for a minute.”
“Tell me what happened to Charity.”
He frowns. “The men went to her apartment and found her dead. The Shaurok got to her first.”
“The necklace?”
“Wasn’t there.”
“So?”
He shakes his head. “We’re not sure. They may have it.”
Now I sit up. Woozy or not, I don’t give a crap. “What happens now?”
“We hunt the Shaurok.” His face is grim. This sounds bad. Fear seeps into my bones.
“But wait. How do you know if Charity had it?”
“We don’t. But what we do know is the Shaurok are no longer in Durham.”
“So now where are you going?”
His entire demeanor changes. He’s tense and for the first time, I sense fear in him. “For the present, nowhere. We stay and continue to track Judgment Day. Serena, we may need you.”
“Me? How?”
“As bait.”
“Bait?” I’m not sure I like where this is going.
His usually full lips stretch into one thin line. “Yes. If the Shaurok don’t have Judgment Day, they will still sense its imprint on you, and come after it.”
“I see. Led like a pig to slaughter, then.”
“What? No! Do you really think I’d do that to you?”
“I don’t know.”
Suddenly, anger replaces his fear. It rolls off of him in waves and permeates the room, invading my space. I’ve never felt anything like it. He moves like a predator, reminding me of a panther stalking its prey. His arm winds around my waist and I’m wrenched up against his chest, his scent flooding my nostrils. “If you think for one lousy second I would intentionally put your pretty neck at risk, then you don’t know me at all.”
“I don’t know you at all. I just met you.”
His eyes latch onto mine and he snaps, “You know more about me than most people. And my guess is I know the same of you.” He’s right. Very few people have penetrated my walls, but he most certainly has. He knows about my family and furthermore, I slept with the man, after only knowing him how long? Hours? One day, two? I don’t even know how long I’ve been here, for that matter. I want to slap myself on the forehead. I’ve never slept with someone so soon before. But the odd thing is, I feel like I’ve known him for years.
“Exactly.” His words tell me he’s once again gone digging around into my thoughts.
By now, my hands fist his shirt near his hips, and even though we have an audience, the urge to kiss him is overpowering. I’ve never been one for public displays of affection. What is it about him that does this to me? What is wrong with me?
His words interrupt my thoughts. “Not here. Not now. Tell me you trust me.”
And I do. Don’t ask me why. I guess I’m fucking crazy.
“You’re not. You know I’ll protect you with my life.” He’s still in my head.
“You’re right.” And he is. I saw what he looked like when he came back from Tara’s. His hand moves to my cheek and I tuck my head into it. “So what’s next?”
“We come up with a plan.”
So they decide I’m to be paraded around in town, without an escort, supposedly, to draw in the Shaurok. Of course, they’ll be nearby, in case of an emergency. Translation—in case the creepy things come tearing in after me.
That night I go to bed alone, while Sabin stays in the sec center with the men. A hot shower relaxes me and afterward, I crawl into bed and fall fast asleep. I never hear Sabin join me, but sometime later, he awakens me as he dreams. He talks gruffly, but then he lets loose what I believe to be a series of expletives in a language I don’t understand. I try to wake him, but it takes awhile. When I succeed, his skin is covered in a sheen of perspiration. Though the room is dark, a lamp burns in the corner and I can see his eyes dart wildly around the room before landing on me. Then he asks me something, but it’s in that odd language again.
“I don’t understand you, Sabin. Speak English.”
It takes a second before recognition sinks in and I see the tension in his body dissipate. One arm pulls me into him and he’s trembling.
“Hey, are you all right?”
I hug him as hard as I can, hoping it will help calm him.
“Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong,” I urge him.
He buries his face in my hair and murmurs something I can’t understand. Whatever has rattled this steely man must be pretty damn bad. We sit wrapped up in each other, silent, until he eventually speaks.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” he murmurs.
“Don’t be. What were you dreaming?”
He shakes his head, unwilling to share.
“Look, if we’re going to be sleeping together, I think it’s safe to say you can tell me about your nightmares.” I take my hand and push his thick waves off his forehead. “Whatever you tell me will stay right here in this room. I promise.”
“It’s not that. I trust you. It’s that I don’t like to talk about it.”
“I see. It must be a terrible memory for you to be so rattled.”
His eyes pin me, and even in the dim light of the room, I can feel his emotions through them. “I’m sorry for whatever happened to you.”
“It wasn’t me it happened to.” His voice is so low, I have to strain to hear it.
“But it has affected you deeply.”
“Yes.”
What terrible thing could have happened? Did a loved one die? A relative or even a lover, perhaps?
I move to my knees, straddling him, and take his face in my hands. “I’ve never experienced
loss before, but I have a feeling this is what you’re dealing with. Let me help you.”
“You are helping. By being here. I’m worried about our situation. That must be what triggered the dream. I haven’t had it in quite some time.”
“Don’t worry. You won’t let anything happen to me.”
That gets a half-smile out of him.
“I’ll fight to the death to save you.”
His words unsettle me because I know how true they are. I saw the evidence of that. “Why do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“This? Fight the Shaurok?”
He shrugs. “Someone has to.”
I shake my head. “It’s more than that, isn’t it?” Our eyes haven’t left each other’s and the clarity in his hits me. “It has to do with the dream, doesn’t it? It’s the same reason, isn’t it?”
“Serena …”
“Tell me, please.” I need to know the answer, only I’m not sure why.
“Yes! It’s the same reason. I vowed to hunt them down.”
“But, why?”
“Because they killed my sister. She was the keeper of Judgment Day. It was her duty to see it remained safe and they killed her to get to the damn thing. When I found out, I became one of the hunters. One of the Seven. They were formed to find Judgment Day and to guard it. That was and is my duty. We are bound to serve the ones who possess it, who are imprinted by it, and we seek it out when it has been unjustly stolen. Now that I’ve told you far more than I should have, I think we should try to get some sleep.”
Sleep? How can he even think about sleep now?
“Sabin, I’m truly sorry about your sister.” I stretch out on top of him, resting my head on his chest. “You spoke in a strange language when you were dreaming. Is that your native tongue?”
He lets out a snort. “I don’t know. I was dreaming, so I have no idea what I said.”
“Hmm. What language do you speak?”
He laughs. “All of them.”
“All of them? How is that possible?”
“We use a translator.”
“What? Is that like a tiny person who sits on your shoulder?” I giggle at my little joke. But then I notice he’s not laughing.
“You’re not far off from the truth, actually. It’s a tiny device called MSI, or microscopic simulated intellect, that’s implanted into our cerebellums. It’s designed to work in tandem with our brain so when we hear a language it instantly interprets, translates, decodes, and allows us to speak in that particular tongue. It works great, but we have to adjust the setting for slang usage at times.”
“That’s just gross. They actually stick something in your brains?”
He chuckles. “Yes, but it’s so tiny you can’t feel it. But the things it does—well, it’s worth it. We have them updated every so often.”
“So, let’s say for the sake of this conversation that I had one put in my head. You’re saying that I would be fluent in Japanese? Or Russian?”
“Yes. Any language anywhere.”
“That is amazing. Can you talk to animals with it?”
“What? No, I can’t talk to animals. What the hell kind of question is that?”
“Just curious. Can I get one of those thingies?”
“Technically, it’s an MSI, not a thingy, and no you cannot.”
Harrumph. “Figures. You keep the good stuff for yourself.”
“Serena, I can’t be giving out our devices and things to you. What would happen if it fell into your scientists’ hands?”
“They could possibly create some for us, using your technology.”
“No, it would raise all kinds of questions and where would that put you?”
He makes a good point. “But how would they know?”
His hands have been moving up and down my back, sort of doing a light massage. Now he stops, and groans. “What if someday, when I’m long gone, you need a scan of your head, and they find it?”
Lifting my head, my eyes lock onto his. I don’t want to think of a day when he’s long gone. He cups my chin and his thumb slides over my bottom lip. What is it about this man? Everything screams desire. My belly tightens my skin heats. I would bet if I touched myself, my fingers would be slick with my own wetness. The hunger to taste him is potent. His cinnamon and spicy scent has just flared, flooding my senses, making me need him even more. Does that mean he’s lusting after me, too? I don’t care. The scar in the corner of his mouth calls out to me. My tongue peeks out and I lick it. Just a little. Then I look at him. Oh, he watches me, so I do it again, but this time, I kiss his scar all the way up to his eye. And look at him again. When I do, he lets out a sexy growl, rolls over me, and his mouth crashes onto mine. God, he tastes as good as he smells—cinnamon with that perfect amount of spice. Not sweet and not hot. Exactly right. His velvety tongue tangles and dances with mine. When he deepens the kiss, my hands tunnel into his hair and hold on tight. I don’t want this moment to end because I’m too greedy. I’ve been kissed before. Many times. I’ve had boyfriends. I was even serious with one. Jason. Thought perhaps we might get married. That was before I caught him screwing a friend of mine. I used to think Jason was an amazing kisser and an awesome lover. Every man I’ve ever been with after him I would always compare to Jason and they would never live up to him. Not anymore. Sabin pulverizes Jason in every way. Kisses—knocks it out of the park. Oral sex—should give Jason lessons. And the sex—Sabin’s a walking orgasm.
He suddenly stops kissing me, grabs my chin, and says, “While I’m flattered I kick Jason’s ass in the bedroom, I would rather you would be with me in the moment and not thinking of the asshole that fucked around on you.”
“Oh shit.” My hands move to cover my face, but he stops them.
“No. Look at me.”
I have no choice since we’re face to face, in bed with each other.
“When I’m with you, I want to be with you. Is that fair?”
“Yes. But can you stay out of my head? Is that fair?”
“Let me say this first. You’re better off without Jason. He was a first class dumb shit if he fucked around on you.”
“Yeah?” I ask with a grin.
“Yeah,” he says as he wraps his hand around my hair and pulls it. “You are far more beautiful than my simple words can do justice.” His lips hover over mine almost, but not quite touching. My mouth waters with need for him.
“Sabin?”
“Hmm.”
“Are you going to kiss me?”
Heated eyes skim my face, then lower to my neck. His mouth follows and I feel the scrape of his teeth against my sensitive skin. My back arches in response. His lips suck as his tongue chases after them, leaving a trail of desire as he moves down to the hollow of my throat. Air traps as I inhale but I can do no more.
His hand slips beneath my shirt and grazes my nipple. It’s as hard as granite; I’m surprised it hasn’t poked a hole through my thin cotton T-shirt. He lifts his head and his gaze catches mine.
“Serena, you know what I want.” His voice sends shivers racing down my spine. I do know what he wants. Because it’s the same thing I want. Him. Inside of me. But he scares me. He does things to me no one has ever done … makes me feel things I’ve never felt. My body responds to him like he’s known it for years—like he knows exactly which buttons to push to make it do what he wants. And that’s what’s so frightening. What the hell is going on with my body? And what will happen to me—to us—when he leaves?
“Don’t.”
“How can I not?”
“Come back to me. To this. Us.” His fingers tease my nipple again and, oh hell, it feels divine. I moan.
“You know you want this.”
“Yes.”
“Let it go.”
“Yes.” He’s like being around a heavy dose of hypnosis.
He hooks two fingers into the elastic of my panties and twists until they snap. Do I care? Hell no. Then he takes a fistful of my shirt, pulls me into a
sitting position, and I’m instantly naked. Facing him, I have this craving to touch him all over. He’s naked from the waist up, but he wears boxers. His wide chest is every woman’s dream. Smooth skin covers a dense expanse of muscle, and it’s next to impossible not to let my hands roam all over him. Long, angular lines run from each side of his abdomen and disappear below the elastic of his boxers. I can feel my fingers twitching in their eagerness to grasp him there. My eyes flick down and then back up to his eyes. He gets the message. But I stop him. I want to be the one to remove them, because there’s something I want to do along the way. I wish I had the strength to destroy his boxers like he did mine, but I don’t, so I just slip my hands under the waistband and tug. When I do, his erect cock springs free and my hand reaches for it. He puts his hand over mine, but I shove it off.
“Serena …”
“Serena nothing.”
“You might want …”
“Shut up, Sabin. It’s my turn.”
“But, you need to …”
“I said, shut up.”
I’ve seen a number of cocks in my life, but his beats all of them. It’s downright lovely. The shape the color, the texture, and I know damn well it’s going to taste like cinnamon and spice. I look up at him and say, “You better get ready for this.” Then I open my mouth and get my first taste of otherworldly cock, licking the bead of moisture at the tip. Holy shit. Maybe I should’ve said that I need to get ready for this. He smells so fucking good, I want to drown in him, and fuck chocolate. I want cinnamon from now on. A Sabin cinnamon cock. I run my tongue from base to tip, swirling around his head, and then I put the whole thing back in my mouth until I nearly deep throat him. I’ve never been able to do this before. But jiminy cockhead! I could do this all day long. Holy hell, what is going on here? I’m in cock love. Head heaven. I am the blow job buttercup bitch. I am moaning up a storm. You would think I was the one getting blown. I slide my tongue across the tip back and forth and run zigzags up and down the back, while I suck. Then I move to his balls and run my tongue around them before I put them in my mouth, while I squeeze and pump his cock. Moving my mouth back to the head of his cock, I wrap my lips around it and go for the kill. And I am so fucking turned on; I can hardly kneel still. This is the best blow job I’ve ever had. Wait. What am I saying? Oh shit. The more I suck and lick, the more turned on I get. The hell? I feel like I’m doing myself. Oh god. I’m going to come! I’m not sure who is moaning more—Sabin or me.
Sabin, A Seven Novel Page 11
