by G. A. Rael
Before he could come up with an explanation, Jordan wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. He found himself returning the kiss before he could really think about what he was doing. It wasn't safe, he knew that. He was only beginning to come to terms with his own strength and she seemed more fragile now than ever.
“Jordan,” he said, his voice so close to a growl it made him cringe as he broke away. "This isn't a good idea. You're vulnerable, and —”
"You're the only one I can trust, Darren,” she said softly. Her voice clouded his mind with its softness. “I never should have doubted that. I’ve made a lot of mistakes since I came to Cold Creek, but this isn't one of them."
“But you and Chase —”
“We’re not exclusive,” she muttered. “We never were. I’m the only one who’s stupid enough to think our relationship meant to him what it meant to me.”
“You’re not stupid,” he said, stroking her hair. “Anything but.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said quietly. “I’m done pretending like it’s possible for me to have a normal relationship. I’ve been denying my feelings for you ever since you died, and I’m done. I just want to remember how it felt when we were together.”
Her words were enough to convince him of what he already wanted to believe. He captured her lips briefly before he lifted her into her arms and carried her into the room. He placed her on the bed like she was made of porcelain and took a moment to appreciate the curvaceous silhouette she cut against his dark red sheets. He climbed on top of her and her legs parted to make room for him as he settled his weight on top of her.
Her lips were even sweeter than his memory had given them credit for. His hands tangled in her hair, impossibly soft even though his senses were dull. Being close to her could only make up for so much.
When the taste of her began to stir a very different kind of hunger, he broke the kiss and hoped she wouldn't think anything of it as his lips swept down her neck. His hands moved further down, slipping underneath her shirt to brush over the soft, warm flesh underneath. She moaned a little as he slipped the shirt over her breasts and his tongue flicked over a freshly exposed pink bud.
Darren laid on his side, both to take a moment to quell the building instincts within him before they got out of hand and to enjoy the sight he never thought he would see again. His fingers traced every curve appreciatively and circled the smooth, soft flesh around her navel all the way down to the point where bare porcelain disappeared into soft, dark curls.
She gasped at his touch and the little sound made it impossible to wait any longer. Darren pulled off his shirt and made quick work of his belt before sliding a finger inside of her. When he slipped another inside to prepare her, she flinched a little but didn't seem nearly as timid as she had the first time he had touched her.
When he pressed himself against her entrance, she gasped more sharply so he laced his fingers with hers and pressed his lips against her forehead in reassurance. She seemed to stiffen unintentionally as he pushed against her. As good as the resistance felt, he was afraid of hurting her.
"Just relax," he whispered, kissing her again. She gripped his hands even tighter, but he felt her soft body begin to uncoil beneath him. It was just enough to allow him to bury himself inside her. She was every bit as warm and delicate as he had imagined. The surge of pleasure set off instincts he had been trying to keep at bay ever since he had come back from the dead, but the almost unfathomable sense of wholeness that surged through his veins kept them in check.
The deeper he went, the tighter her body held him. Being near her had always made him feel closer to the only part of himself that really mattered, even before his soul had taken up residence on her hand, but in that moment, he felt complete. Like he wasn't just near his soul, but he was holding it in his arms, buried deep inside of it.
The feeling was so intense and all-encompassing that it took him a moment to realize he was crying. "Did I hurt you?" he asked desperately, sweeping a strand of disheveled hair away from her face.
She shook her head, but the tears streaming down the sides of her eyes didn't leave him convinced. Neither did the fact that she couldn't seem to speak. When she reached up to touch his face and brought her lips to his, the passion in her touch reassured him that whatever he was feeling, she was experiencing the same.
Her legs wrapped around him and she arched into him, her nails digging into his back in desperation. His hands tangled into her hair as he began to thrust into her, relishing each soft moan the movement elicited. As she began to writhe underneath him and he felt her tighten each time he hit her spot, restraint went from being a chore to a feat of superhuman proportions. The realization of how easy it would be to hurt her provided a much-needed sense of terror to keep his passion in check.
Even then, he felt like a fool for thinking it would be enough.
"Darren," she pleaded, desperately groping his hair. He had been planning on getting it cut, but now he wasn't sure after knowing how good it felt to have her fingers playing in it. Especially since he had his doubts that it would ever grow back.
"Yeah?" he asked breathlessly, looking down at her to make sure she was alright.
“God!” she gasped sharply as he thrust into her and the way her hips trembled was enough to make him growl. She froze at the sound, but the fear in her hazy eyes lasted only a moment before something else took over and she raked her fingers through his hair again, making him shiver in bliss. "I love you, Darren."
Darren stared at her in winder for a moment before claiming her lips as his own and gathering her into his arms to crush her body against his as closely as caution would allow. "I love you too," he whispered in her ear before pressing his lips against the side of her neck. "Always have. More than anything."
Her thigh swept against his side and her moan hit his ears like a symphony. Her hips bucked against him with growing desperation and her nails dug into his back hard enough to make him growl. Either she didn't notice this time or had stopped caring. Her breaths were ragged and as good as it felt to be inside her, he found himself far more intrigued with the things he was making her feel. The things that made her gasp and the ones that made her stifle screams of pleasure. He took note of each one with all the fascination of a pianist observing the inner workings of his instrument.
She let out a final, breathless cry and she grasped him with more fervor than ever before her the tension slowly faded from her body. Darren shuddered, unable to stop another growl from escaping his lips as he came a moment later. He laid on top of her until their shallow breathing became synchronized.
Jordan fumbled with his hair and Darren buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent. It was more distinct than ever. A sweet, floral scent that soaked into his mind like sunshine behind closed eyes. They stayed like that for a while and she didn't seem any more eager to count the minutes than he was. Before long, he knew the consequences of what they had just done would catch up with them, but for now, all was right in Darren’s world.
After all, it was the first time in nearly a year that he had felt alive.
Chapter 20
Jordan
The next few days were a blur of mixed feelings for Jordan. Samael was still gone and so was Hermes. Chase had called her a few times, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to listen to his voicemails. She promised herself that would all change that afternoon, but before she spoke to him, she wanted to at least know where she stood.
Darren had given her space after their encounter, even as he took care of her. She wore a boot cast that made it possible to walk without pain for short distances, but it was loud. The scratchy straps and clunky plastic announced her presence long before she entered a room. She still had no leads on her mysterious rescuer, which made her increasingly wary that her rescuer and the werewolf might be one in the same.
At least Mrs. Herrin was happy. She was preparing to go on her third date with the butcher that night and Jordan had nev
er seen her more alive. She had fussed over which sweater to wear for more than an hour before Jordan managed to convince her that she looked beautiful in both and Alec was probably so thrilled that she was going out with him at all that he wouldn't care if she wore a trash bag.
The house was empty and Jordan found herself sitting at Mrs. Herrin's table, drinking a cup of tea. She had just put away the woman's groceries and couldn't bring herself to spend any more time in the upstairs apartment than she had to. Samael's presence had eased the loneliness when he was there and when he wasn't, she had stayed over at Chase’s. Now that that was no longer an option, she knew she was going to have to face up to the fact that Hermes was gone and as far as she knew, he wasn't coming back until it was time to collect her soul.
A few stray lost cat printouts Mrs. Herrin had insisted on posting all over town were still in a disheveled stack on the table. Jordan reached for them and began the oddly meditative task of ripping them into confetti. She swept the finished pile into a trash bin and brushed a few residual scraps of paper off her hands.
It wasn't as therapeutic as she had hoped.
Jordan’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she sighed. It was Chase. She pressed ignore and laid her head on the table, trying to work up the will to go up to her own apartment. When Mrs. Herrin's phone rang, she jumped. It went to voicemail and she had no sooner relaxed than a familiar voice jolted her out of her thoughts.
"I'm sure you have a perfectly valid reason for ignoring me, but I'd at least like the chance to know what I did so I can apologize," Chase began over the machine.
Jordan looked around, her heart racing. "How in the world—?”
"The window is open, love. I can see you."
She spun around to see Chase standing in the lot by his parked car, waving while he held his phone in his hand. Mortified, she stood and limped her way out the door. She stopped on the porch and his face fell when he saw her leg brace. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and ran over to kneel in front of her.
"What happened?" he asked in what seemed like genuine horror. Then again, it was never possible to be sure what was genuine where Chase was concerned.
"It's nothing. I just tripped."
"It's not nothing, you're wearing a cast," he said, looking up at her. "Who did this?"
“It’s not a cast, it’s a brace.” Jordan would have laughed if she was capable of feeling anything but sadness and guilt in his presence. "Like I said, I tripped. It's a minor break, it'll heal on its own."
"What about magic?"
“Turns out I can't heal myself without Hermes around."
He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else, but he stood and seemed to decide against it.
"It's not like you to just show up without calling first,” she said, crossing her arms.
He frowned. "I've been trying to reach you for a few days. I came home because I had a feeling something was wrong and it looks like I was right."
“It's not like you've been forthcoming yourself."
She knew she was being petulant, but she didn't feel like explaining herself to Chase. It was one thing when he’d only been guarded about his connection to Hermes, which was obviously more involved than either of them were letting on. She knew he was keeping things about his past from her, but he’d never really pretended like he wasn’t. It was the personal betrayal that burned, even if his general secrecy should have been enough to tip her off. More than anything, she felt like a fool.
She expected an argument but instead, his shoulders sagged and he let out a deep sigh. "No, I haven't. That's part of the reason I came back. Will you let me take you to dinner and we can talk? There's... Well, there's something I need to get off my chest."
Jordan hesitated. She hadn't expected him to confess without being confronted, and she didn’t have the emotional energy for that. "I guess," she said, seeing no other option.
"Wonderful. I made reservations.”
She just hoped it wasn’t at Raymond’s. After learning he was the one who’d betrayed her secret to Allison, she was never going to be able to go back to the place. Somehow, that hurt more than the affair itself.
"You want to leave now?"
"Unless you're busy," he said, casting a dubious glance at Mrs. Herrin's empty house.
She sighed, limping past him. "I hope it's not fancy. Heels don't go well with giant black boots."
“You look wonderful,” he said, opening her door. His answer didn't give her much confidence, but she found it hard to care about something as trivial as looking out of place at a restaurant when the dissolution of the only truly stable aspect of her life was at most a couple of hours away.
The drive was a silent one, and Jordan was mostly to blame. Chase attempted to make small talk here and there, but she shot his efforts down with one-word answers. When they finally arrived, Jordan realized she was definitely underdressed compared to the rest of the patrons.
Chase offered her his arm and she took it reluctantly. A table was waiting for them on the patio and the weather was certainly nice enough for it. Jordan clung to every second until the waitress took their orders and left them alone.
"So, how was your trip?" Jordan asked, eager to give him the chance to incriminate himself if it would alleviate some of her guilt. It was one thing to be angry at Chase from afar, but to feel that way in his gentle, unassuming presence with all his unexpectedly sweet little gestures was a feat she just wasn't capable of, even on the heels of betrayal.
His face fell and he took a sip of his wine as if collecting himself before he answered. "Jordan, I wasn't honest with you about the trip."
She hadn't expected him to just come out with it before the appetizers even arrived. It should have come as a relief, but suddenly she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
"I know," she said quietly. "Just please do me a favor and spare me the unpleasant details."
He cocked his head to one side. The busboy arrived with their zucchini fries, providing her a moment's delay.
"I know you turned down the partnership last week," she said once they were alone again. "And I know you weren't really meeting with Roger."
"How could you possibly know that?" he asked, having the nerve to look shocked.
"He called while I was at your house," she admitted. "He wanted me to try to talk you into taking it."
He sighed. It wasn't an angry sigh like she would have expected. "Well, it's no wonder you're upset with me. I can only imagine what you thought."
She hesitated. "What I thought or what happened?"
"That depends on what you thought."
"That you were in New York with another woman," she said carefully. "What else was I supposed to think?"
Chase frowned and reached for her hand before she could pull it away. "Jordan, if you don't realize that everything we've built means far too much to me to throw away on some cheap fling, then I've been unforgivably remiss as your lover."
His words filled her with an unsettling mixture of horror and relief. As they settled in, her guilt fed off the righteous anger that had been keeping her afloat. "Why else would you lie about where you were?" she asked, clinging desperately to her last shred of indignation.
He looked down at their hands and squeezed hers tightly before releasing it. "I was with someone else, but not for the reasons you think. And I wasn't in New York."
"Then where?" she asked, bewildered.
"I was in London.”
Jordan stared at him blankly. "What were you doing in London?”
He sighed. "I was looking for Hermes. As for what he was doing there, it's a long story and I haven't had enough wine to tell it."
"I don't understand," she said, pressing a hand against her swimming head. "Why were you looking for Hermes?"
"Isn't it obvious?" he asked pointedly. He seemed to take her silence as an admission that it wasn't and leaned back in his chair, taking another sip. "You're lost without him. You've been through enough this past year, I
couldn't stand to see you like this another moment."
"Well, that’s—” Jordan paused to all but chug the last of her wine and flagged the waiter down for another. "That's definitely one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me."
He smiled placidly. "I'd do anything for you, Jordan. Unfortunately, I failed on this particular mission."
"He isn't coming back?"
"No, not until he finds what he's looking for, I'm afraid. He was quite insistent."
"What is he looking for?" she asked, momentarily distracted from her self-loathing by curiosity.
Chase pursed his lips and seemed to be on the fence about telling her. “Would you believe me if I said he’s looking for the devil?”
“That would probably be the most concerning and least surprising thing you could say,” she admitted. “We’re talking about the literal, actual devil?”
He sighed. “I’m afraid so. As to what Hermes wants with him, your guess is as good as mine.”
“Yeah, but London?” she cried. “Isn’t he, you know, in Hell?”
“I suppose not.”
"So…Hermes didn't just abandon me?"
"Not at all, though I think his communication skills leave something to be desired," Chase said, looking down at the dish the waitress placed in front of him with feigned enthusiasm. "I don't think I've eaten this many vegetables at once in my entire life."
"We can stop and get you a hamburger on the way home," she said apologetically. The fact that he’d chosen the only vegetarian restaurant in town for her was just the icing on the cake.
"Not necessary," he said, only grimacing slightly when he took the first bite. "It's a culinary adventure."
Jordan gave him a strained smile. Part of her, perhaps the only shred of the good person she had once been that was left intact, wanted to confess immediately. The rest insisted that admitting to her betrayal would only hurt him. The lie was convincing enough that she almost believed it, too. After all, he had still seemingly framed Darren for what he had told Allison.
