He pointed out the three bedrooms and a bathroom on the second floor, all with fresh bedding and linens at the ready.
“For a guy who lives alone and doesn’t require sleep, you’ve certainly kept this house in guest-ready condition.”
“Somehow it makes me feel ... human, if that makes sense?”
“It makes perfect sense.”
“I even keep a few basic ingredients for cooking. You never know.” He opened his arm up. “Please pick whichever room you’d prefer. I’ll bring up the luggage.”
Her faraway stare finally locked on to him. “Right. From the hotel.”
“I’m not sure what’s in which suitcase. We threw everything in together so quickly.”
“Do I have to tip the valet?”
The moment those whiskey-gold and moss colored irises darkened with the double entendre was a piece of time Odie wanted to remember forever. This was the exact moment when he lost the ability to fight his desire. The exact moment when he no longer wanted her as a pawn or an accomplice. He wanted her as a desirable woman.
One taste and he would leave.
He closed the distance in one step and pulled her head forward to meet his lips in a crushing kiss so intense, his vision dimmed at the edges. Like fine ambrosia, she smelled delicious.
He tilted her face up to him, expecting her to pull back, to resist. The gods blessed him when she sighed and the corners of her lush mouth tilted upward. He rubbed his thumbs over her high cheekbones, her soft lips, and her porcelain neck.
Perhaps he could spare one more taste.
Unable to stop himself, he leaned forward again and brushed his lips over hers. The scent of his home with its wood paneling, the plaster walls and ceilings, the humid bayou air combined with lavender and her own exquisite fragrance.
Slanting his mouth, he roved over her lips, savoring them, nipping at them. When he plunged his hands into the silky fall of her dark auburn hair, he absorbed her answering groan with his mouth. He slid his hands down to settle at her waist. The heat where their bodies met could have burned the house down. An Indebted ran warm in general, hot when aroused, and Odie had no idea what happened if two aroused Indebted got together, but he was glad to have insurance against fire.
As he slid his tongue between her sweet lips, she yielded, sighing again as she opened to him. Desire clamped a vice around his ribs, and for a moment, he couldn’t inhale. He braced his legs wider and drew her to him. The contact of her full breasts against his chest unlocked his lungs, and he sucked in her scent like a man surfacing from underwater.
A growl escaped him as he explored her with his tongue, loving her soft inner cheek, her pillowy lips. Their tongues tangled together, breaths mingled.
No longer tense, she now melted into him, sliding her hands over his shoulders. Her fingertips stroking the nape of his neck propelled him into orbit.
“Mon dieu, Ruth, you are like a fine wine. Like liquid velvet. So addicting.”
Even though her strength matched his own, he easily walked her backward toward the nearest bed. He kissed her deeply, wanting to imprint her taste, the feel of her body against his, into his soul forever. Before he could reach for her, the buttons on his denim shirt all burst as she ripped open the clothing.
Her cheeks flared pink, but as she looked up at him from beneath her dark lashes, it was attraction, not embarrassment, that shone in those multicolored eyes. No, black eyes. Her irises had changed to the typical jet-black color of heightened emotion. Good.
“Oh, yes, ma lionne, my lioness, that’s perfect.”
She trailed her nails over his bare chest, and his hot rush of pleasure hardened him in a matter of seconds. Those sweet gasps near his ear didn’t help, either. His jeans had become much too uncomfortable, too tight, and he needed to rectify the situation, fast. And if her frenzied hands told the truth, the feeling was mutual.
“What do you need, ma chère?”
“To feel normal. Make me forget what I am, what I’ve been through. Make me feel.”
Flashes of his life—forced to spy on his own daughters because of the Indebted rules, hundreds of kills with the damned knife—flew through his mind. Normal. How many times had he wanted exactly what Ruth asked him?
“If that’s what you want, I’ll gladly provide it. And I’ll never let you forget how sexy and beautiful you are.”
“I need you. Now,” she panted. Her beautiful lips, swollen from their kisses, parted as her dark stare searched him. Oui, the feeling was most definitely mutual.
“As you command.”
When he gently pressed her against the side of the bed, she fell onto the mattress. With her arms spread out, she looked like an angel suspended in the clouds. He unclasped her black pants and slid them down with her panties, over the knife in the holster on her right leg.
The length of alabaster skin made his mouth water. The image of her half naked with her heels still on fired his desire. Raw need drove him like a horse being whipped into a galloping frenzy.
Now. He had to have her now.
He shoved his jeans and briefs down over his rock-hard erection without bothering to remove the clothing and pushed her knees up and outward. The view threatened his sanity, so temping was the pink skin revealed as she opened for him.
Standing at the edge of the bed, he tested her entrance, so moist and ready. As he teased her smooth nether lips, her little mewls of pleasure threatened to unravel his sanity. At the moment her fists began to rip the duvet fabric, he leaned back, a difficult task given that her strong legs urged him toward her.
Ah, yes, she was equally as unhuman as he. She had the same speed, the same strength. His match. But she was oh so feminine, so desirable. Unable to wait any longer, he drove his shaft into her softness, gritting his teeth as her inner muscles clenched around him.
Mon dieu, who had neglected to tell him that all Indebted muscles were stronger than normal? That would have been good information to know for the past 250 years. His cock had never been squeezed like this before.
He lifted her ample hips higher, palming the curves as if he’d never get enough in his hands. Seating himself more deeply inside of her, he tried to hold still and relax, to prolong the pleasure, but she grabbed his ruined denim shirt and yanked him toward her.
Relaxation be damned.
“Holy hell,” she bit out.
That one phrase was all it took to obliterate his resolve to take things slowly. He pistoned hard into her heated sheath, wanting to be inside her body. Wanting to touch her soul. Odie had to brand her as his own, had to replace evil with pleasure, to moor her to this human world. He had to have her.
Not any woman. This woman.
His moans and her cries mixed in a crescendo of passion as he brought them to the peak together. He stroked her strong legs and thighs as his fast, pounding rhythm drove them both to the edge. They both came crashing down as her tight muscles held him while he spilled his sterile, Indebted seed inside of her. He rode her orgasm, teasing her to peak time and again as her pleasure continued. As he shifted, tiny aftershocks made her clench around him until he grew hard once more.
Drawing her legs over his shoulders, he leaned forward, pushed the hair off her face and kissed her deeply. Ready again, he moved his pelvis, seeking more release, and he shifted his stance to gain a better angle. The heels of her shoes bit into his back, sending him into orbit. With the indefatigable energy of his kind, Odie thrust into her again, this time with more deliberate intent. He rolled her hard nub with his thumb and finger as his erection slid in and out of her silky depths.
Against her lush body, he clung to what little control remained. He squeezed her buttocks, loving the voluptuous curves. Plunging deeper, he brought her to full fever again. She tossed her head back and bowed up to him as she ripped fabric from the duvet.
Snaking an arm beneath her, he kept her back arched and drove her further over the edge once more. She cried out, and he followed her over the precipice as their
voices blended together.
Silence settled over their flushed bodies. Their breathing quickly returned to normal, another side effect of the unhuman state. She pushed her hair back off her forehead and smiled up at him. Having seen the satisfaction in her heavy-lidded, black gaze, he could now perish as a happy man.
Spent, he remained half crouched over her. Hell, his feet were still firmly planted on the floor. Unwilling to disrupt this perfect, crystalline moment, he held himself motionless, devouring the image of the sexy woman before him.
“Some valet service.” She giggled.
“Consider your tip adequate, madame.” He turned his head to one side and kissed a sleek calf.
She laughed again but watched him intently as he eased her legs to the bed and withdrew. Her inner muscles clenched, holding him inside. He groaned. How he wanted to stay here, like this, inside of this woman, loving her body.
She sighed and stretched, her full breasts straining against the dark wrap shirt she still wore. Bare from the waist down, her long legs splayed over the edge of the bed. Damn it, he should have done this differently, given her more than this centuries-starved half-clothed coupling. But he couldn’t have slowed down if he wanted to, not with her beautiful body before him.
“C’est magnifique,” he said as he fastened his jeans. He tugged the pieces of his shirt together then gave up and shrugged.
“Sorry about that. Hope it wasn’t your favorite shirt.” Her eyes had returned to the typical gold-flecked hazel, though they twinkled with mischief.
“It is now, chère.”
She blushed as he helped her back into her pants, smoothing his hand and the fabric back up those shapely legs. He then pulled her to stand before him, rubbing his thumb over her hand, unwilling to cease contact.
“Why don’t you relax, have a shower or bath if you’d like? I’ll bring up the luggage, in truth this time. When you’re finished, I’ll see what’s in the kitchen that might interest two unhumans.”
“Sounds wonderful,” she said, slowly withdrawing her hand.
Too wonderful. Too perfect. Damn this lovely interlude.
Cold lead settled in his gut. Soon, he’d have to convince her to join him, if they were going to destroy Jerahmeel.
Chapter 14
Odie’s heavy footsteps paused outside of the bathroom. Ruth held her breath. Part of her hoped he would join her in the luxurious tub. Another part scolded her for the wonderful mistake it had been, having sex with him.
She sank to her chin in the steaming water in the clawfooted tub and blew out a full lungful of air. As she swiped the washcloth over her swollen skin, the rose-scented soap relaxed her while the rough fabric hit supercharged nerve endings. Blast it, she wanted him again. How was that possible?
Too bad they had zero future together. Just recognizing that truth cooled her desire faster than a bucket of ice cubes dumped into the bathwater.
Stark reality reared its ugly head. She could never put her trust in another man—not the way Odie probably wanted. Not the way Ruth needed. Until she could trust, she’d never consider any long-term relationship. What happened earlier this evening was simply a lapse in her otherwise solid, practical judgment.
What about their connection? They met on a level she’d never experienced before. That kind of intimacy couldn’t be faked. Maybe he cared for her but couldn’t commit. Maybe it had to do with his plan. God, had they made love as another of Odie’s ploys to sway her to help with his scheme?
Not understanding Odie’s true feelings created an emptiness inside her. Or was it her bleak future alone? She had no life, no purpose, outside of Barnaby. What could fill that hole? Or whom? She glanced at the closed bathroom door.
An eternity with a man like Odie?
Or even better, a mortal life with a man like Odie?
No. One roll in the bed did not an enduring relationship make.
God, what was wrong with her? Here she sat soaking in a tub, mooning over fabulous sex, while Barnaby languished in the hospital.
Barnaby. Her dear friend.
Eventually, he would depart from this Earth. If not now, then in a matter of years. Guilt assailed her like a slap to the face. Barnaby lay in an ICU bed while she rolled in the sheets with Odie. Some caregiver.
Thankfully, Barnaby wasn’t alone. Friends surrounded him in his time of need.
A stab of jealousy and sadness made her wince. If she were in Barnaby’s shoes, which friends would come see her?
No one. The theme of her entire life.
She hid behind the sex-on-a-stick costume that helped her score her kills.
She hid behind the prim and professional nurse uniform.
Where was the real Ruth?
Picking up a piece of her hair, she smelled residual sulfur.
Damn it.
Normally, washing her long hair made for a frustrating chore, but she had to eradicate all traces of that last encounter with Jerahmeel. Had to try to forget the hell that awaited her.
Dunking her head into the water, she enjoyed a moment of muffled, watery silence. Weightless for the smallest space of time, she pretended to have no stress, no need to kill, and no pressure to worry about Barnaby. Nothing but warmth and stillness.
The cooling water reminded her that the peace never lasted.
Once she finished rinsing her hair, Ruth stepped out of the tub, a towel wrapped around her head. Then she dried off with another plush towel. Such indulgence using two towels. No other guests apparently used them here, so she might as well take advantage. Opening the door, she peeked out into the hallway. The sounds of a television drifted up to her from the first floor.
She found her luggage in a well-appointed guest room that featured a beautiful oak sleigh bed with detailed scrolling at the head and foot. A dark blue duvet was folded back to reveal cornflower-blue sheets, fine Egyptian cotton if her fingers detected correctly, and down pillows. The enticement to get in the bed and rest was obvious. She would indulge in relaxation later this evening.
Pulling on khakis and a silky maroon shirt over her underwear and bra, she toweled her hair as best she could. It would take hours to dry, but at least she now smelled like flowers, not rotten eggs and suffering. Finally feeling, well, not actually human but the closest she could be, she girded herself to face Odie. She had to be honest with him and honest with herself; it was the right thing to do.
No more pretense, no more costumes, no more hiding.
It was time to share her carefully guarded story for the first time in forever. Even Barnaby didn’t know all of the details of her shame and pain.
But Odie had been honest with her. She could do the same.
If only sharing her innermost pain didn’t make her heart feel like a buggy wheel rolled right over it.
Alert to an intriguing aroma emanating from the first floor, her nose distracted her from the depressing thoughts. She strolled downstairs in bare feet as the scent of vanilla and strawberries drifted into the foyer. As she entered the kitchen, Odie plated what looked like crepes with strawberries and cream. After dusting the pastry with powdered sugar, he brushed off his hands, stiffened, and turned around. He had replaced the denim shirt she shredded with a snug, gray Henley. He left the top buttons undone, revealing a hint of pectoral muscle and a light dusting of dark hair – the image served as a cruel taunt to her resolve and equilibrium.
“You’re a gourmet chef?” She forced her gaze to his face. The folded crepes with strawberries peeking out constituted a work of art.
“I dabble. If I have a good reason.”
“When is that?”
“Never. Until now.”
He brushed a thumb across his lower lip. That single tiny gesture set her ovaries on virtual fire. Damn. He was good.
“You have some powdered sugar on your face.”
“What should we do about it?”
Ruth shocked herself by licking the spot of sugar from his cheek next to his nose. When she leaned back, he followed
her. His pale green irises were turning black again.
“I should cook more often,” he said.
“I agree. This smells delicious.”
“That’s not what I was talking about, chère.”
She would not go back down this oh-so-tempting path. Not right now. Not with him. Although she didn’t want to hurt him, she needed some emotional distance if she was going to get through her own story.
“I know.” Taking a few steps back, she added, “So, um, can anyone have one of these treats?”
He blinked, like a sleepwalker waking up, and his pupils constricted back to normal size. Glass green colored the irises again. His lips thinned. Good. Message received.
“But of course, madame. If you’ll allow me to part with formality, we can eat these on the front porch. I do love the night air and the quiet.”
“Polite society would be scandalized by such barbaric behavior.”
“You’re exactly right. And that’s why we’re going to do it. Grab both of those plates along with the forks, please. I’ll bring dessert wine.”
They settled on the second to top step of his grand porch. Tree frogs chirped so loudly, it sounded like a crowd of people talking all at once, in a singsong rhythm. The cool, damp night air calmed Ruth as she inhaled the scent of soil and autumn leaves and sighed. Even a few stars were visible tonight, their tiny lights wavering in the humid atmosphere.
She cut into the still-steaming crepe and took a bite, savoring the sweet cream, the slightly tart strawberries, surrounded by the vanilla crepe.
“Amazing.”
“Glad you like it.” His fork glinted as he cut a piece of dough.
“Thank you for cooking. I know it’s not your top priority.”
“I’m glad I had a reason to cook.” In the shadows, it was hard to make out the details of his face, but she felt him studying her nevertheless. Her mouth went dry.
“I should call and check on Barnaby,” she said.
She jumped when he stilled her with a warm hand on her knee. Damn that reaction. And damn how his hand heated her entire leg.
Flame Unleashed (Hell to Pay) Page 12
