She released his shaft, and the head slid along her wetness to poke at her opening. So close. With one thrust, he’d join them.
He cupped her cheek, turning her head so he could see her face. “Look at me. I want you to know whose dick is inside you. I want you to remember whose touch shatters you. Understand?”
She swallowed hard enough for him to hear, but nodded.
“Good. Then let me give you what you need.”
“What do I need?”
He slid a hand over her ass, holding her in place, while he filled her on a steady thrust that nearly broke his control. Every inch of her soft core molded to his cock, wrapping him in a tight sheath that fit him as if made for him. He’d heard the expression before, never gave it a second thought. He’d thought it was just some corny line used to romanticize fucking, but with Rowan’s sex gripping his length, the lame expression took on new meaning.
He brushed his thumb over the corner of her mouth. “You need a reminder that you’re not dead. You’re a woman who has as much to live for as everyone else.”
“I don’t have a choice but to live. Trust me, I would’ve—”
He thrust into her, and her words turned into a gasp. That was better. No way did he want to hear her admit to wishing she could die. Permanently.
A second rough stroke, followed by another and another, and she tipped her head back to rest against the brick wall.
“No. Don’t say it. Don’t you even think shit like that. I won’t stand for it.”
She blinked lust-hazed eyes at him. “You don’t control me.”
“I wouldn’t want to.” It’d be a full-time job.
“Yeah?” She squeezed her inner muscles, holding him deep inside her. The waves traveling over his length urged him to move. He wanted to pound into her. The tight grip of her thighs around him stopped him. “Why not?”
He moved both hands to her ass and grabbed her rounded flesh until she groaned. The locking hold of her legs eased, and he rolled his hips, screwing her and enjoying the passion settling over her face. “I don’t think I’d like you as much.”
The words were out of his mouth before he thought better of them. He’d been with enough women to know not to say shit like that during sex, even if it were true. The intimacy messed with everything, twisting an innocent comment. If he weren’t careful, Rowan would assume he loved her. He couldn’t say that, not without lying to her. No way was he going to do that.
Her eyes widened, exactly the reaction he didn’t want. He inwardly cursed. Hunter or not, Rowan was still a woman.
“You like me?” Disbelief laced the question, but it didn’t snuff out the interest in her gaze.
He pressed his lips to her ear so she didn’t read anything else from his expression. “I told you to shut up, baby. Now do it, and let me fuck you.”
He didn’t give her another chance to speak. He pressed her shoulders against the wall and took her hard. Each stroke tightened his body and increased the pressure in his balls, but he kept up the pounding drives, needing to shatter her resistance and make her soar.
She flexed her fingers and breathed hard but rhythmically, as if she were focusing on that and not letting herself feel. Nope. That wouldn’t do.
He took her hands, linking their fingers, and yanked her arms above her head. Without the use of his hands, he couldn’t brace himself to fuck her as hard or as deep. He rocked into her instead, slowing his thrusts. Her nostrils flared, and she bucked against his hold.
“Take me from behind.”
So she could ignore the pleasure of letting go completely? Of feeling alive?
He pressed his lips to hers. “No. I want you just like this, and that’s how I’m taking you.”
“I—”
A rolling grind of his hips stopped whatever it was she was going to say. His tongue in her mouth kept her from arguing with him. On and on, they kissed while he rocked into her until her thighs trembled and the first strong waves of her release rippled over his dick.
He broke the kiss. Ecstasy showed on her face. Seeing her lost to pleasure brought his. His seed rushed down his length.
“Rowan.” He squeezed her hands tighter and grunted as he came. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”
His mouth was on hers a second later, and he kissed her while he filled her up.
A muttered curse yanked Trevor’s gaze to the front of the alley. Zeph stood there, blocking out the light from the main street. Regret hit Trevor as hard as the lust that touching Rowan had elicited within him. He’d fucked her in a public place. Hell, anybody who walked by could’ve seen them. Even Craig.
What the hell was he thinking?
He hadn’t been. That was the problem. He’d let thoughts of Rowan and sex consume him. No more. He should’ve stuck to his plans of becoming a Huntsman, not Rowan’s lover.
“Ah shit. I’m sorry. You didn’t call, and I…” Zeph turned his back on them. “I’ll just walk away and pretend like I didn’t see anything. See you at the estate.”
“No, wait.” Trevor separated their bodies and shoved his dick back into his pants. He stepped away from Rowan, avoiding her gaze, and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it from where she’d mussed it. “I’m coming. There’s still a couple of hours of darkness left. We can check some more places.”
He took a few steps toward Zeph, then stopped. Keeping his gaze straight ahead, he asked Rowan, “Do you want to come with us?”
She cleared her throat. “No. I have plans for the night.”
That made him look at her. Big mistake. Even in the dim alley, he could tell she’d been thoroughly fucked. One ribbon was untied, and the other had slid down her ponytail. Her clothes were disheveled, and her makeup was smeared. Hell, he probably had her lipstick on his mouth.
What smacked him in the gut and left him feeling like an asshole was the expression on her face—bitterness and an equal dose of regret to match what gripped him.
Better than the hope. At least that was what he should think. It wasn’t the truth, though. “What kind of plans?”
She snorted. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to entice any more sinners. I’ve bestowed all the visions I can handle tonight. I’m going to sit at the bar and drink until it closes, then I’m going home.”
He held her gaze a minute more but didn’t know what to say. He’d screwed up and hurt her a second time. Dammit. He was starting to make a habit out of it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
For the first time in over five weeks, Rowan didn’t curl up against the wall in her bedroom and sleep. It was a habit she’d grown fond of since Trevor had been released from the hospital. A wall separated their beds. She’d arranged his bedroom and hers so that their beds would be close in case he fell or was in excruciating pain while he slept. Not once had she needed to go to him, but she’d been comforted knowing he was only a few inches away, so much so that she’d slept.
It had been a shock the first time she’d woken after dozing off. She’d been confused and uneasy. Sleeping was an indulgence she hadn’t embraced since before Kai had died, but closing her eyes and allowing the quiet of the estate to surround her had soothed her. The constant rage she lived with had lessened each day she’d allowed her mind to shut off. Not gone. She doubted it would ever disappear, but she’d found herself able to cope. For that reason, she’d looked forward to crawling under the covers each day.
Not today. No. A different emotion caused her to pace.
Hope.
“My goddess cried for you.” Alana’s words had been repeating in Rowan’s head since her encounter with Trevor in the alley.
Minerva not only suffered her handmaiden’s pain, but she cried for soul mates who were separated by death so they would get another opportunity to find each other. Although rare, humans could form the strong bond Minerva had once been able to grant before the Triad took the ability away. The natural bond humans formed on their own was based on love in its purest form. Minerva respected and cherished the connection.
Or at least she had when she’d been the goddess of love. Rowan hadn’t talked to her stepmother since being released from the fairy prison. There’d been no point. Rowan had never gotten along with her.
Minerva’s lectures and warnings to stay away from Lucas and the Haven had built a wall between them. In all the years Rowan had lived in the Underworld, she never understood why Minerva had been so adamant against anyone getting involved with Lucas. If her stepmother had gotten knocked up by him earlier, Rowan could’ve understood. Minerva hadn’t conceived Ian a millennium ago, though. That had been a recent development.
Or had it?
“Why are you up?” Rhys walked into the library with a cup of coffee in his hand. He flicked his gaze to the roaring blaze in the fireplace before moving to where Rowan stood by the window. “I thought you’d be sleeping. That is your current routine.”
Rowan shrugged. She didn’t want to talk about her encounter with Trevor. Not yet. She needed to corner Alana first. Hopefully, the maiden would know if Trevor was Kai’s reincarnation. It didn’t hurt to ask. Rowan had been agonizing over the possibility.
Trevor was nothing like Kai, but Rowan wasn’t the same person either. Grief had changed her. She’d be the first to admit that. Why wouldn’t time have done the same to Kai’s soul?
“I was thinking.”
Rhys took a sip of his coffee. “About?”
“Minerva. What she did to our father. Why she was always so adamant that I not get involved with Lucas.” Rowan waited a moment, letting her words sink in. His expression blank, Rhys merely watched her. “I can’t help thinking her interest in the demon king was based on something more. Maybe jealousy.”
“You’re wondering if she conceived Ian earlier than she claimed.”
The story Minerva had told was that she’d gone to the Triad thirty years ago and begged it to allow her to conceive a child. The deity had granted her wish. Not in the way she’d hoped, however. Instead of Arawn fathering her babe, Lucas had.
“Yes, that’s what I’m thinking. If she were afraid of our father finding out about her affair, why wouldn’t she have lied about the timing of it?”
“Minerva is many things, but she has never once lied. Not to us or to Arawn.” Rhys drank more of his coffee. “She avoids or ignores the questions she doesn’t want to answer. We’ve all seen her do this. She only shares the truth when absolutely unavoidable or unless it’ll benefit her.”
“Avoidance is often as detrimental as lying.” Rowan had seen that too many times over her lifetime. Minerva had to have witnessed the same. She was as old as mankind, maybe older. Why would she continue to keep things close if she knew half-truths could be interpreted incorrectly?
Rowan shook her head. Trying to understand her stepmother was like trying to understand the meaning of life. “It doesn’t change the outcome. Minerva hated that I was sleeping with Lucas. Hated it, Rhys. The lectures were one thing, but there was often rage on her face when she caught me with him. I’d always assumed it was because he was feeding off my strength. Using me. Maybe I was wrong, and it was jealousy that put that look on her face because I was fucking the father of her son.”
“If Ian had been conceived before our imprisonment, Tegan would’ve connected with him in their dreams sooner than they had. No.” Rhys shook his head. “I do not believe Minerva lied about the timing of Ian’s conception.”
“It doesn’t explain why she was so vocal about my relationship with Lucas. She didn’t get as fired up about any of the other incubuses I took to my bed.”
Rhys set his coffee cup on the end table. “You didn’t have a relationship with Lucas. You used him as a way to forget about your mate.”
Rowan pivoted and glanced at the area visible outside the library’s window. The sunlight cast a soft glow over everything, and dappled light and shadows blanketed the forest floor. It was a beautiful spot, especially with the few colored leaves among the trees. Autumn was fast approaching.
She’d have to go shopping soon. The summer clothes wouldn’t fit with what the humans expected her to wear. The short skirts and sleeveless tops wouldn’t bother her. She didn’t mind the cold.
Rhys gripped her shoulder and turned her to face him. “You can pretend as if you didn’t hear my words, but it doesn’t make them untrue. Being with Lucas helped you cope because the lust he stirred within you dimmed the loss of your mate.”
It was one of the two things that had. Fighting was the other, but she’d almost lost herself to the rage a couple of times. She had refused to let that happen. Seeking retribution for the wronged took on new meaning after Kai’s senseless death. “And? Would you have rather I allowed the rage to consume me?”
“No, but using Lucas wasn’t the right thing to do.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “What? Are you sympathizing with the incubus? That’s hilarious, brother. Lucas fed off my life force. If anything, he’s the one who took advantage of me.”
“No, I am not sympathizing with Lucas the incubus.” Rhys focused on her. “I am sympathizing with Lucifer the angel. He would’ve felt your pain and wanted to help you. With his abilities to offer comfort stripped from him, sex was the only way to ease you.”
It had. She’d admit that, at least in her own head. When she’d been with Lucas, only pleasure had mattered. No emotion. No love. Only fucking until she careened into the mindless state of ecstasy only an incubus could offer, that place where nothing mattered more than coming again and again.
Experiencing that empty bliss was an addiction she’d embraced. That was the ultimate goal of the sex demons, getting a lover hooked on what they could give. Necessity was a better description for the desire to keep their partners coming back for more. Each orgasm allowed them to steal the strength they needed to live.
She rolled her eyes instead of acknowledging Rhys’s statement. “Lucas, Lucifer, or whatever you want to call him is a fallen angel. He’s nowhere near innocent.”
“Neither are we, don’t forget. We walk the line between duty and damnation every day.”
“Still, he ended up in Hell. The Triad didn’t cast Lucifer out for nothing.”
“I won’t even try to guess why, nor do I care. The Triad’s reasoning isn’t something I understand or can justify. Our father’s judgment is something I trust, however. Whatever he saw in Lucifer was enough to save him and those angels that were cast out of the Heavens from suffering eternal damnation.”
“And I’m sure he’s regretting it now.”
“Most likely. Honestly, I’m surprised Arawn hasn’t banished Lucas from his home.”
“Me too. I’ll have to ask him why when I go to see him.”
“What?” Shock laced the word. Rhys cocked his head to the side and studied her. It was a look she’d often seen him wear whenever someone didn’t react the way he expected. “Why would you even think of going to the Underworld? Have you forgotten Tegan’s warning? Lucas wants you as his mate.”
“Please.” She snorted. “Nothing Lucas says or does will ever convince me to become his mate. I used him for sex.” She raised a hand. “And yes, maybe to forget about Kai. There was never anything more between us.”
Rhys leveled his intense silver eyes on her. “But if he can sever your bond, you can finally let go of Ka…” Rhys pressed his lips together, stopping the name from slipping free, while she tensed, hands balled at her sides.
She hated when anyone said Kai’s name. Only she could. He had been hers. The rule she’d insisted on among the Teulu was childish. She knew it. Hadn’t been able to stop the anger she’d felt when her siblings had said her mate’s name. They would all go on to take mates, to experience the utter joy of love, to know that they’d never be alone. Not her. She had nothing except her memories and the reminder of her stupidity seared into her palm.
Any time one of her siblings had said Kai’s name, Rowan had attacked them, taking out her frustration and regret on her beloved brothers and sisters. That had
been wrong of her. It wasn’t their fault she’d acted like a romantic fool that night and left Kai alone. And vulnerable.
“Your dead mate, I mean.” An apology hovered in Rhys’s normally serious eyes.
She inclined her head in acknowledgment. Perhaps time had dimmed her anger. Or maybe it was seeing Calan and Tegan happy with their mates. Whatever the reason, Rowan no longer cared to punish her siblings.
“Unless Lucas can keep me in a constant state of arousal, that’ll never happen. I’ll always grieve Kai’s death, whether I wear the evidence of my love for him or not. Memories of him linger here”—she tapped a finger to her temple, then rested her palm over her heart—“and here.”
“I wouldn’t be so quick to assume Lucas won’t be able to tempt you.” Rhys lowered his voice, a warning in his tone. “The Triad would not have given him the means to sever your bond if they had not meant to test you. You do realize that is what your challenge will involve, don’t you? Lucas and his desire to mate you?”
She raised a brow. “And you’ve become privy to what the Triad wants?”
“No, but you have to admit it’s too coincidental.”
“I don’t care what Lucas can do for me. I refuse to become his ticket out of Hell.” Because a Huntsman’s mate would share in the ability to traverse the realms of the Underworld and the mortal realm.
“Even if it’s to save our father from a challenge that might leave him forsaken in a realm no soul can touch?”
That had been another of Lucas’s threats. If he couldn’t mate Rowan, he’d challenge Arawn for the right to rule over the Underworld. That fight would take place in a separate realm. The loser would stay there for an eternity. Alone.
“An idle threat. Lucas wants out of Hell which is why he wants me. The mortal world is a lot closer to Heaven than where he is now. Why would—”
A flash of gold caught her eye. She leaned closer to the windowpane. Allie walked across the yard. Metallic ribbons—gold, silver, and red—were woven into the thick braid hanging down her back. Another sundress, white with pink flowers, hung loosely on her thin frame, but she’d added a teal shawl to the outfit, no doubt because of the cooler temperature. She moved purposefully toward the far end of the open ground, near the path leading to the greenhouse.
Hunter Mourned (Wild Hunt Book 3) Page 6
