Sin Undone d-5

by Larissa Ione

  Cursing to himself, he gripped her wrist. His pulse raced as he lifted her hand to his mouth and took her finger between his lips. Her dark eyes flared as he pierced the pad with his fang. Her blood hit his tongue, and he nearly groaned. Quickly, before he lost himself to lust, he opened up his own finger and touched them both to the muslin bag above their heads. Their blood seeped into the charm, and there was a pop, a flash, and they had five seconds to cross the invisible threshold.

  They darted onto the front porch, and a pop behind them let him know that the barrier was once again closed.

  Cautiously, he pushed open the door. Rivesta’s spell worked against supernatural creatures, but not humans, which meant hunters or burglars or squatters could have broken in. “I’ll clear the upstairs if you do the down,” he said, and Sin slipped away like a phantom.

  Damn, she was amazing, and he found himself staring after her, his heart racing more than it should.

  Calling himself all kinds of stupid, and a couple extra types of moron, he willed his pulse to throttle down and mounted the spiral staircase. He cleared the bedroom and bathroom and met Sin downstairs, where she was standing in the center of the great room, gazing into the cold fireplace and hugging herself as though chilled.

  On the floor were the smashed remains of her cell phone. “Battery’s dead. Case was cracked.”

  “So you punished it,” he said wryly, but the dead battery was not good news. They now had no way to get help.

  “Hey.” He reached for her, and, as usual, she stepped away, and he let his arm drop. “We’ll be fine. Nothing is getting past Rivesta’s barrier.” At least, not until the assassins after her realized they could send in humans. “Why don’t you get some rest, and I’ll come up with a plan to get us out of here.”

  “Sleep is for the weak, and you can stop treating me like I’m a child.” She wheeled away and produced a dagger from out of nowhere, as far as he could tell. “I’m going outside to patrol the area.”

  “Sin,” he said wearily. “Stop. You said you’re drained. You need to rest.”

  She stopped, but she was facing the door. At some point, she’d tied her hair up in a messy knot so the ends were dangling over a spiky, tribal tattoo on the back of her neck, and he suddenly wanted to free those wild tresses and bury his face in them. In her. “I need to do something.”

  “Going outside and getting yourself killed isn’t that something.”

  She rounded on him, all spitfire and hell on legs, and yeah, be careful what you wish for. “Did you see those people, Con?” She gestured to the window and the wilderness outside. “Are you forgetting that butchered child? Who cares about me? Who gives a crap if I live or die? It’s those people who matter!”

  “Dammit, Sin. Yes, they matter. But so do you. People care.” She snorted, and he grabbed her, used every ounce of restraint he had not to shake her. “Your brothers care—”

  “They want to care, but they don’t. How can they?” She batted his hands away and stepped back. “All I’ve done is cause them trouble. Okay, there’s Lore. He might give a shit, but he’s mated now and he doesn’t need me.”

  “Trust me,” Con said. “They do care, and they do need you.”

  Doubt burned in her eyes, but abruptly, the light flickered out, and he knew she was thinking about the warg child again. “Doesn’t matter.” She dug the map out of her pocket. “Let’s go to Germany. There was an outbreak near Berlin.”

  “We can’t just waltz out the front door. We need a plan. Rivesta has hidden exits. We’ll find them and come up with a way to get us out of here. Just take a breather first. It’s best if we can wait for first light.” Too many demons could see better at night than in the day, and the time when they were most blinded was as the sun was just breaking over the horizon.

  She glared at him, one finger caressing the hilt of her blade, and he wondered if she was considering stabbing him with it. Then, as if a switch had been thrown, she made the blade and map disappear, and the anger drained from her expression. She was the most mercurial female he’d ever known.

  “I need a minute,” she said crisply. “Alone.”

  He let out a frustrated sigh. “I’ll raid the kitchen and see what we’ve got. Stay in the house.” When she stiffened at his command, he added, “I mean it, Sin. If you try to leave, I will give you that spanking I talked about at the hospital.”

  The light of battle sparked in her eyes, triggering a primitive response inside him, one that demanded her capitulation… beneath him. He should never have threatened a spanking, because now his hand tingled with anticipation and his cock hardened and his entire body primed for sex.

  “I’d like to see you try.” Sin’s husky voice shot straight to his groin, and so had all his blood, because his brain was flipping through a lot of spanking scenarios now.

  “I don’t try, Sin. I do. Remember that.”

  “Whatever,” she muttered, as she did a crisp about-face and strode out of the kitchen. He watched her swaying retreat, which did nothing to cool the heat in his veins.

  Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he turned away and started pawing through the cupboards, which were crammed with canned and boxed goods. The freezer was nearly as packed, but mostly with unidentifiable raw meat. Grimacing, he closed the door. He’d eaten some questionable things in his life, but you never knew what demons considered to be food.

  The fridge contained mostly bottles of water, soda, and beer. Con grabbed two Cokes and went back into the living room, where Sin was sitting on the couch.

  The scent of blood was thick in the air.

  Her dermoire was writhing, and a thin laceration in the perfect shape of a Z split a circular symbol at her shoulder in half. Blood beaded along the seam, but it was the six-inch gash just below in her biceps that had his attention.

  He dropped the sodas on the massive dining room table and crossed to her. “What did you do?”

  “Leave me alone.”

  Ignoring her, he grabbed her arm and applied pressure. “You’ve got to stop this, Sin. Where’s the knife?” When she didn’t say anything, he barked, “Where’s the fucking knife?”

  “There isn’t one!” she shouted, jerking away from him. The laceration grew another inch and widened more, as though it were being cut from the inside. Holy shit.

  Before she could stop him, he swiped his tongue along the wound, and instantly, it sealed.

  “You asshole!” Sin shoved to her feet, looked at her arm, and just beneath where the cut had been, another started, growing quickly from a tiny quarter-inch line to a good two inches in length in a matter of seconds.

  “What are you doing?” Con grabbed for her, but she sidestepped like a dancer.

  “I said, leave me alone.”

  Idle down. Just back off. The taste of her was still on his tongue, heightening every one of his senses and emotions, which included anger, and she didn’t need him lashing out. Her stubborn ass would clam up tighter than, well, a clam. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

  She looked up at the thick log rafters for a long time before saying softly, “It’s my guilt.”

  “Your what?”

  “It’s how most of my guilt comes out.” She dropped her gaze back to him. “I’ve trained myself not to feel it. Guilt, sorrow, regret. But they need to be released, so they present as pain.”

  Con drew a sharp breath. He’d heard of that before—manifestation of certain emotions as physical symptoms instead of as true emotion. And if that was what was going on, she was feeling a lot of guilt. Blood streamed down her arm and dripped to the floor, yet she didn’t seem to notice. When he reached for her, she skirted away from him.

  Fed up and frustrated, he dove for her, took her down to the couch cushions, yanked her arm up, and once again licked the wound closed.

  “Stop it!” She wriggled, jerking her leg up to cause some damage in his fun parts, but he was ready, and he pinned her legs down with his weight.

 
“Dammit, Sin, you need to feel.”

  “No, I don’t.” She rocked her head up, trying to bite his arm, but he shifted, and her teeth snapped on empty air. “Do you think I could do my job if I broke down in tears every time I killed someone?”

  Fury ripped through him. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—judge her for the job she did. He hadn’t been an angel himself. But she was cheating herself, and cheating all the victims of the epidemic she’d started.

  “So everyone who’s died because of the disease you caused gets nothing?”

  “Nothing?” she asked, incredulous. “I bleed for them.”

  “Really?” He looked at her arm, which had cut open again. “Do you think there’s enough blood to cover the deaths of all the wargs who have come through the hospital? How about the child we just saw slaughtered?”

  “Shut up,” she rasped.

  He swiped his tongue over the blood again, and she bucked, but he didn’t budge. “You’re going to feel it, Sin. I promise you that.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Feel it,” he said, his voice low and harsher than he intended. “Remember everyone who has died.”

  “No.”

  Her arm split. He licked. “I won’t let you bleed. Feel it.”

  “You’re one to talk,” she snapped. “How bad do you feel when you kick your human friends to the curb with lies?”

  “We aren’t talking about me, Sin.”

  “You want me to be miserable?” she yelled. “Do you hate me that much?”

  “No!” he shouted back. “I care that much.” He froze, unable to believe he’d just said that.

  Sin blinked, her lush eyelashes framing the surprise in her eyes. Then she slapped him with her free hand hard enough to jar his teeth. “You bastard. You lying bastard. I get that you owe Eidolon some big debt, but I’m not stupid enough to fall for crap like that.”

  “Jesus. I didn’t say I was in love with you or anything.” Oh, hell no. Never. “But I don’t hate you anymore.” And when that had happened, he wasn’t sure.

  “Why not?”

  “You might have started the epidemic, but you didn’t mean to.”

  Beneath him, her body relaxed, just a little. “Then why do you want me to feel all that guilt?”

  “Because it’s not just guilt you’re locking up inside you. It’s everything. You need to let it out and learn to trust your feelings.”

  Her skin split. “No.” Some of the resolution had seeped out of her voice, but clearly not enough.

  Lowering more of his weight onto her to keep her held down, he dragged his tongue up her arm. “Give it up, Sin. Feel.”

  “I… If I think about that kid, the things I’ve done…” Her entire body started to tremble, and her eyes grew liquid.

  The sight of her, so conflicted, clawed at him, and he eased away—and she dumped him on his ass on the floor. With near-vamp speed she was up and tearing toward the stairs.

  He leaped to his feet, grabbed her, and spun her to face him. “No more bullshit, Sin. Feel what you’ve done.” He took her hand and pressed it to her chest, where her heart was pounding painfully fast. So was his. “Let yourself feel something for someone else.”

  “I hate you.” Her voice was so shaky he could hardly understand her.

  “Then that’s something,” he said softly.

  Abruptly, her eyes filled with tears. “Con…” She swallowed, over and over.

  “Let it happen.”

  “I’m… afraid.”

  On impulse, he folded her into his arms. “Let it go.”

  For an unbearably long time, she shook. And then she cried out an agonizing, terrified, animal-like wail that made his heart clench.

  “It hurts,” she moaned. “Oh, God.”

  Her sobs came hard and fast, and he supposed he should be taking some measure of pleasure from her pain, but all he wanted to do was make it stop. Maybe he’d made a huge mistake. He almost released her, almost apologized, but when she started to push away, he tightened his arms around her. She was strong, and as her struggles grew more frantic, he had to crush her to him.

  “Let go!” She tried to throw herself backward, tried to kick him, claw at him, bite him. He took it all, let her do as much damage as she wanted to. “Let… go…” The order came out as a moan and a plea, and as her struggles weakened, she began to sob again.

  “Sin,” he whispered into her hair. “Shh…” Relaxing his grip just a little, he hooked a finger under her trembling chin and lifted her face to his. Black eyes swam in tears that left a trail down her cheeks.

  Without thinking, he kissed her wet face, first one side, then the other.

  “No,” she groaned, but her body sagged against his. And when he pressed his lips to hers, she clung to him as if he were a life raft and she was drowning.

  He licked at her lips, easing his way in, not wanting to rush this. In his arms she felt tiny, fragile, in a way she never had and in a way he hadn’t believed possible, and some crazy instinct surfaced, making him want to take care of her, pamper her, and make her strong again.

  Though she wasn’t actively participating in the kiss, she wasn’t fighting, either, and he took his time, nibbling at her mouth, stroking her lips, her teeth, and, finally, her tongue. He began an easy rhythm in and out of her mouth, and slowly, so slowly, heat built and she began to respond.

  Sin’s hands eased up his back, tentatively at first, but as the kiss deepened, intensified, her touch became firmer, until she was rubbing not only her palms against him, but her breasts against his chest.

  “That’s it,” he whispered against her lips. “Touch me.”

  Sin dropped her hand to his fly, but he gripped her wrist to stop her.

  “Not there. Not yet.”

  “But—”

  He shut her up with another kiss, this one more urgent, as he carried her to the floor. With one hand, he cupped her buttocks and tucked her beneath him, and with the other, he cradled her head, holding her for his kiss.

  Her thighs cradled him in a tight fit, her soft sex rubbing, driving his hips forward even though he wanted to keep this whole thing at a leisurely pace. But his loins were already full, his animal blood ran thick and hot in his veins, and the mountains, the wilderness around them, called to his primitive nature.

  It demanded that he take her with surety, a rough joining that would make them both howl. And as she came, he’d take her blood, too…

  The idea made him run both cold and hot. He wanted nothing more than to fill up on her as he filled her up. But, as always, in the back of his mind was the fear of addiction, something he knew he was precariously close to.

  He couldn’t be responsible for another death caused by his careless hunger for a female’s blood.

  Sin’s slick tongue flicked over one of his fangs and then ran up and down it, stroking, and he moaned, forgetting everything but her. Right now, he needed to concentrate on making her feel good. On making her forget the horrors of the day and the horrors yet to come.

  The hardest thing he’d ever done was keep from tearing off her clothes and plunging inside her, especially when she began to rock against him, her lean form undulating in sinuous waves. A softly uttered “No” accompanied every roll of her hips. Her body was willing, but her mind still hadn’t accepted this. If he did what his body was demanding, a hard, fast fuck, she’d be on board. But the tenderness was scaring her.

  “Easy,” he murmured, as he kissed a trail down her jaw, to her throat, where her pulse beat madly beneath his lips. “If you truly don’t want this, I’ll stop. But it’s time for you, isn’t it?”

  He knew it wasn’t. Oh, she was giving off the usual succubus fuck-me vibes, but not in desperate, take-me-now quantities. But she was nervous, afraid, and she needed an excuse to go with this because she wanted to, not because she required it.

  “Yes,” she rasped, the lie seeming to catch in her throat.

  “Then I’ll take care of you,” he murmured. The problem, he r
ealized, as his hunger surfaced, would be taking care of himself.

  * * *

  Sin was scared to death.

  It took a lot to terrify her. But somehow this sexy dhampire who was kissing her senseless was making her squirm with anxiety and need that went deeper than the physical. He’d forced her to confront emotions she’d never wanted to experience, and she was still reeling from that, trying to stuff those feelings back in the box they’d been locked in for so long.

  Cold, hard-core sex would help make that happen.

  Con reared back, just a little, so he could peel off her top and bra, her ultrathin leather dagger harness, and then her boots, pants, and thigh and ankle sheaths. He made a messy pile of her weapons, something that made her twitchy, but then he was touching her again, and her weapons were forgotten. Her heart pinged around in her rib cage as he slid his long, talented fingers up and over her breasts. She inhaled, taking in the musky scents of aroused male and battle that still clung to Con’s bronzed skin. Lust tackled her, turned her muscles to Jell-O, and made her core run wet.

  Writhing, she dropped her head onto the hardwood floor with a frustrated curse. “Stop teasing.” She went for his pants again, but he stopped her, his grip on her wrist ruthless almost to the point of pain.

  “I’m going to make love to you, Sin. We’re not going to fuck. We’re taking it slow, with lots of that foreplay I talked about.”

  Her chest constricted with alarm. “Why?”

  He made a sound that was something between a chuckle and a purr. “Only you would question extended erotic play.” His fingers delved between her legs, feathering over the fleshy lips of her sex. “And I intend to turn you into my personal playground.”

  Oh, Jesus. “I… can’t.” She didn’t know how. But more than that, making love would leave her open, vulnerable. Fucking was easy, two bodies slapping together to reach a brief moment of pleasure. Making love involved emotions tangling and minds meeting until the orgasm was more than physical… and she wasn’t good at that at all.