by Bec McMaster
She could practically see Lynch absorbing the information. "Who's in charge of the Nighthawks cleaning up after the riot?"
"Charles Finch." She hastened to add, "I tried to warn him not to retaliate and to keep order."
Lynch swore under his breath. "Give me a moment to see Garrett, then I'll head out to the scene. Finch's a good man, but he prefers to receive orders, not to give them, and they'll listen to me." Lynch rapped on the door. "Perry? Gibson?"
Thank God. Lynch was going to handle it.
"Time to go home, I think," Kincaid murmured, his hand sliding over the small of her back again.
Agreed. Anything to get out of the ruin of her bloodstained clothes.
* * *
There was nothing for it but to return to Malloryn's. The duke needed to be told—though Kincaid quite suspected news of it would be all over the city—and Ava needed seeing to. He'd wiped the blood from her face, but it was all over her clothes, and she was oddly quiet and contained, startling every time he spoke to her, as if her mind had been elsewhere.
She felt cold too.
And far too pale.
He liked none of it.
"We're home," he murmured, helping her down from the steam cab they'd hired back to Malloryn's.
Ava stumbled along at his side, leaning heavily upon him. "I never thanked you."
Kincaid swept her up into his arms and carried her up the stairs. "For?"
"For saving Garrett's life." Those green eyes held self-recrimination. "I'm a trained professional, and for the life of me I could barely move. I don't know what happened. I just sat there, like a lump of—"
"It happens sometimes, luv." He shouldered the door open to the safe house.
Herbert, the butler, took one look at them. "Miss Ava, is everything all right?"
"She needs a warm bath, her formula, maybe a pot of tea," Kincaid said, heading for the stairs to her room. His braces strained around his legs as he took the first step. He hated stairs. "I'll run her bath if you'll fetch the rest. And send word to Malloryn. Tell him it's an emergency, and we'd appreciate his presence as soon as possible."
"Yes, sir."
Kincaid pushed open the door to the bathing chamber, thankful for Herbert's competence. He didn't quite know what the man did for Malloryn—Herbert had dangerous talents, he suspected—but he wasn't just using his butler role to be undercover.
"Here we are, sweetheart," Kincaid said, starting the bath running. One benefit of working for Malloryn was the plumbing.
Ava stood there, staring down at the steaming bath water, her tangled curls hanging bedraggled from the remnants of her chignon.
Kincaid plucked a pin from her hair. Then another, and another until finally the heavy mass fell down her back, almost to her waist. Ava glanced over her shoulder at him, her blonde lashes framing her green eyes, and the look in them made his heart clench in his chest.
She never could hide her thoughts. They were there, painted across her delicate features; want, fear, the urge to ask for his hands upon her, but doubt too... doubt he'd put there, with his careless words the other night.
Kincaid slid his palms up her bare arms, feeling the gooseflesh pebble beneath his real hand. He wanted to take back everything he'd said to her. To give her what she wanted—a fairy tale, a future, a dreamlike reality. But the words curdled on his tongue, unable to spill freely.
He couldn't lie to her. Not her.
"I wish we could have forever," he whispered hoarsely, and before she could turn to him, he swept her hair over her shoulder and kissed her nape. "You are so perfect, Ava—" The second she started to protest, he captured her chin and turned her face to his, shaking his head. "Perhaps you don't see it, but I do. Despite everything you've been through, you still see so much hope in the world and that's such an awe-inspiring thing to behold. You give me hope, and that's something I haven't felt since I was a lad. Don't ever change. Don't ever wish to be someone else, because to do so would be to deny the world the gift of yourself. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
Her lips parted in shock, and her green eyes gleamed. "Liam—"
"You are strong." He kissed the smooth patch of skin where her neck met her shoulder. "You are brave." His fingers started on the buttons down her spine. "And you are so damned perfect I almost can't believe you'd let me lay hands upon you."
"When I'm with you, I feel like I don't have to be anyone else. You make me believe I'm perfect, just the way I am." A troubled look filled her gaze. "I've never felt this way before."
And there they were, the words neither of them dared utter. Kincaid slid the gown down her shoulders. Silence fell between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable, and it was filled with the rasp of her dress as it fell from her hips and pooled on the floor, and then the gentle rustle of hooks as he removed the press of her corset.
Piece by piece, he stripped her bare, kneeling behind her as he slid her chemise down over her bottom, revealing her pale skin. Golden curls brushed the dimples at the small of her back, and he couldn't stop himself from capturing her hips and kissing her there, a man of reverence though it was no god he served, but her.
"Liam," she whispered, and glanced down at him in shock.
Just one more night.
He closed his eyes, and rested his forehead against her bottom, cursing himself under his breath. He should have ended this last night. He should never have followed her in here.
But like a moth to the flame, he was drawn into her sphere, helpless against the look in her eyes.
Ava. It would always be Ava. And maybe the Kincaid curse would strike him down, but at least he'd know what it felt like to know love, just this once.
Ava turned, sliding a hand through his hair and tilting his head up so he could see her blushing. "What are you thinking?"
His gaze slid down over her small breasts and the smooth plane of her abdomen, toward the golden down between her thighs. "I'm thinking I don't want to waste another damned minute," he replied hoarsely, pressing his face into that hair and breathing in her sweet musk. Running his hands up the backs of her thighs, he cupped her ass and pushed his face against her.
Ava moaned, throwing her head back, and sliding her hand through his hair. "You are so wicked."
"And you love me for it."
The second the words were said, he wished he could take them back, but Ava merely looked down at him, her eyes wide and startled. "Yes," she whispered, "But that's not the only reason I love you." She dragged him up to her to kiss him before he could reply.
His ribs squeezed tight around his heart as Kincaid captured her mouth. He couldn't stop touching her, breathless with a feeling he didn't dare give name to.
I can't give you forever.
He crushed her close to him, capturing her slim form in his arms as he kissed her, pouring everything he couldn't find the courage to say into that kiss.
But I can give you my heart, poor, pathetic thing it is.
Taking her hand, he slid it through the gap in his shirt buttons, pressing her palm flat against his chest. His pulse hammered through his veins as he traced her tongue in a hot caress. It's beating for you. Then her hands were tugging at his buttons, her mouth breaking from his just long enough for him to see the determined look in her eye.
Nothing more needed to be said. Both of them could pretend last night never happened, and this was just pleasure between them.
"Off," Ava demanded, stripping his shirt from his broad shoulders and tugging his sleeves from his wrists, taking care not to rip it on the bare spars of his mech hand.
"And these?" He slid a thumb behind his waistband, his cock pressing hard against his buttons.
"Off," Ava whispered, her eyes pure black with need as she took a step back toward the bath, and then another.
Kincaid watched her with lazy eyes as he stripped down to nothing, making short work of the leather straps that kept his braces in place. He'd never been naked in front of her before. Hell, he hadn't
been naked in front of a woman for a long time. He saw her gaze slide down his body, taking in the jut of his erection, his strong thighs, his abnormally enlarged calves....
There was a lump in his throat as he waited for her to ask, but she merely held a hand out to him. "Come and love me, Liam. Just this once."
Ava stepped into the bath, sinking into the luxurious bubbles and capturing a handful of hair in a way that lifted her breasts. His mouth went dry. "We're not going to fit."
She went under, water pouring off her hair as she sat back up, rubbing her eyes. Then she smiled. "Yes, we are. Get in this bath with me right now, Liam Kincaid. I'm cold, and I just want to sink into your arms for a while and soak up all of that delicious heat."
The first step without his supportive braces always made him nervous. He managed to get into the bath, his cock rampant between them, as he settled in behind her. Ava surrendered herself back into his arms, as if she needed to be held. Water sloshed over the sides, and he was right: they barely fit. Yet somehow it was perfect.
"Today was horrible," she whispered. "And I thought I was going to become hysterical."
"But you didn't."
"It was close," she whispered, and rested her head on his chest. "I can never control whether it will take me over, but it was easier there, with you by my side. Just knowing you're there makes me feel safe, though I don't think that will ever stop it."
They stayed there for long moments, absorbing the heat of the bath. Kincaid kissed the top of her head. He liked being able to share the troubles of the day with her, to assuage hers. They were two broken souls who became infinitely stronger together. Maybe he'd never be whole; maybe she never would be. But when she was in his arms, he felt like all the ruined cracks in his psyche were patched.
He could be happy with her.
Ava turned in his arms, looking up at him, her wet lashes clumping together. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For what you said in Malloryn's study about trying to save the blue bloods. I know that can't have been easy for you."
He sighed, toying with one of her wet curls. "Ava... you were right. I have prejudices, and they're hard to overcome. That hate's been ingrained in me for so many years, and sometimes it was the only thing that kept me going in dark days, but... you're right. Not every blue blood is a bad person. Maybe it's time to look at the world again, and see it for what it is now, what it has the potential to be. A new London, one that works for everyone. One I'd give my life to see. The one Malloryn sees when he looks around him, the one you see. You opened my eyes to a future I never dreamed of, made me realize they're worth saving. We're worth saving."
"What are you saying?"
"Maybe there's hope," he breathed, "if we just believe in it hard enough." A shudder ran through him. "You were right. I'm not afraid of needles. I'm not afraid of the vaccine. Something stopped me from taking that step. I'm not saying I... I would take the step you suggested. I'm not sure yet. But... I'm willing to consider it."
Anything would be worth a lifetime in her arms.
Her whole face lit up. "And us?"
"Where would I be without you?" He kissed her upturned nose. "You're my hope, kitten."
"And you're my strength. My belief in myself." Happiness made her glow with some inner beauty that almost struck him dumb. How had no man seen it before? "I love you."
He kissed her, past the point of words. And she slid into his lap, straddling his thighs, a new eagerness swimming through her as she ravished him with her mouth, her hands.
Bath oil gleamed on her bare breasts when they broke apart just enough to catch their breaths. He tongued her nipple, tasting the lemon and chemical of the oil. His stubble grazed her tender flesh, but she'd grown used to his advances by now, and merely moaned, arching her back and clutching his head.
Kincaid stroked between her thighs, feeling a shiver run through her. He drove a finger into her wet, silken sheath, working her, stretching her. Added another until she was rocking in his grasp, making desperate, pleading noises. Somehow it wasn't enough. He needed to be inside her. Now. To give himself to her, and seal their future in one blazing act.
"Bend over the bath," he breathed.
Ava gave him a shy glance, but there was also a hint of the devil in her gaze. And that look felt like a hand stroking his cock. Slowly, she rose up onto her knees, glancing back over her shoulder at him, her hair dripping. "Just what are you planning to do?"
"I plan to take you," he told her, putting a hand between her shoulder blades and pushing her forward, until she was bent over the rim of the bath. Water sloshed on the floor as he reached for the bath oil. "Just like this."
"I know this trick."
Oiling his fingers, he rose up onto his knees behind her. "I think there's still a few things I could teach you."
She glanced back over her shoulder with a shy smile, one that stole his breath. "Really?"
He smiled. "Oh, yes."
Tracing her bottom, he slid his hand between her thighs, fucking his fingers into her in a slow, insistent drive. Ava grasped the edge of the bath with a soft shudder. The oil made his passage easy, for the water had stolen her natural wetness. He needed to work her a little, to make her wet again.
Every thrust of his fingers made her shiver, her body clenching around him.
Taking his cock in his hand, he pumped it a few times, biting his lip against the urge to plunge within her. "Are you ready?"
"For you? Always."
Kincaid eased the broad head of his cock inside her, swiveling his hips, but not letting her take any more of him. Fuck, she felt good. He breached her a little further, and Ava wilted over the bath in silent entreaty. "Do it."
"What do you say?" he breathed, running his mech fingers up her spine.
"Please." She arched her back upwards. "Please."
"Please what?"
A shudder ran through her. "Please fuck me."
He drove himself inside her, earning a moan, as he slid his mech hand across her tits and drew her back against him so he could bite her earlobe. "I love hearing your sweet mouth say dirty things."
"I think you like... corrupting me."
He thrust again, the angle a little shallower thanks to the position. "Maybe I do?" And maybe you're the one corrupting me? "Look at you, my dirty little angel." He slid his oiled fingers up her throat and brushed them over her lips. "Lick them, sweetness. Taste yourself."
Ava's wet mouth slid over his fingers, her tongue darting over them as she suckled. He thrust deeper, moaning himself. Fuck. Not so innocent now....
"That's it." Jaysus, she was so perfect. And he wasn't going to last long. Not tonight, with her silken passage milking his cock in teasing little clenches. His gaze dropped to the little bottle again. "Pour more oil on my fingers."
She let him go with a wet pop of her mouth, and then bent to retrieve the bottle. "Why?"
It lubricated his touch again, and he kissed her shoulder, and then bent her forward insistently. "Because I want to do dirty things to you."
Tracing teasing circles around the puckered rosebud between her crease, he pressed, oil easing just the tip of his finger inside her to show her what he intended. Ava froze, as though shocked. "What are you doing?"
"Do you like it?" He withdrew, and rubbed her there, making her whole body clench.
"I don't—" She gasped. "—know. Maybe. Yes."
"Do you trust me, Ava?" he whispered, breaching her again and waiting, waiting for her to say it.
"Yes," she whispered, and he felt her body surrender, felt her quiver at this new sensation as he slowly finger-fucked his way inside her. Everything in her body tightened. Everything. But she cried out softly, and he knew it wasn't in denial.
"Good," he rasped, and thrust a little harder, sheathing both cock and finger inside her. He felt a little wild tonight. As though seeing her lost in the swarm of Nighthawks had unleashed something wild and primitive within him. He wanted to mark her, to fuck
her hard enough she'd feel this possession on the morrow, and blush in remembrance.
Ava cried out, her inner passage milking him. "Oh, God. Please...."
And then the shockwave of pleasure vibrated through her, gripping him tight. Heat flashed through his balls, and he ground his teeth together, trying to last long enough to extend her pleasure, trying not to.... Too late. He came with a hard thrust, spilling within her and folding over the top of her.
Harsh breaths shuddered through them. Kincaid drew back, dragging her back into his arms. His hips were aching, the muscles protesting so much strenuous action. He'd probably pushed his body too far today.
But it was worth it.
"I could stay here forever," he murmured, kissing the top of her head, and enjoying the sensation of having her in his arms.
Green eyes flashed to his, and he realized he'd used the f word. But she nodded, and rested her head on his chest, her fingers toying with his shoulder.
"So could I," Ava whispered.
* * *
Malloryn sent word. He was aware of what happened, thanks to Lynch, and would be with them sometime that afternoon.
Ava contacted the guild for news on Garrett, but as yet, there was no reply and she couldn't afford to miss Malloryn. She spent the morning pacing, before voices echoed downstairs. There were two very familiar faces in the hallway when she hurried to the top of the stairs.
"Byrnes! Ingrid!" Ava said delightedly, hurrying down the stairs and giving Byrnes a swift hug, before turning to where Ingrid was stripping off her coat. Ava kissed her verwulfen friend on the cheek, squeezing Ingrid for long seconds. "What are you both doing here? I thought you were enjoying some time off for your honeymoon?"
"We were." Byrnes looked cold and focused, which meant his mind was on some task. The paleness of his hair was still a shock to her. "We heard what happened, and stopped by to see how Garrett is recovering."
"Is he all right?" Ava blurted.
"He'll heal," Ingrid said quietly, watching her husband's expression, and easing a hand over his forearm. "He's a little shocked to lose the arm though, and Perry's hovering over him fiercely." A warm smile softened Ingrid's face. "How have you been, Ava? Garrett was worried about you, he said you saw it happen."
