by Kit Rocha
And she had never taken the easy way.
Deacon lifted her in his arms, and she wrapped her legs around him. He was as steady as always, like a tree she could cling to in a storm. But the only storm now was the one building inside her as he tilted his head and kissed her deep.
His hands found her back, fingers sweetly gentle as he stroked up the sensitive skin where her new tattoo was. Her sports bra didn’t offer much protection as she rocked against him, and the bright little sparks of pleasure distracted her from the fact that they were moving until Deacon lowered them both to a stone bench.
She broke away and got her knees against the stone to give her leverage as she straddled his lap. Then she reached for his shirt. “Take this off. I want to see that you’re okay.”
He let her strip it over his head. “Everything is healed up. Not a bruise left.”
It was true, but she examined him anyway, running her fingers over his shoulders and down his chest. Her fingers lingered over the smooth, pink skin where she’d held Zeke’s shirt to his bleeding side while Laurel raced back toward the sectors.
Whole. Alive.
Hers.
She kept touching him, her fingers skating over his skin, inch by inch, as his breathing quickened. Finally, he cupped her face and lifted her gaze to his. “I’m here.”
“I know.” She told herself she wouldn’t cry again. But it wasn’t pain that was welling up inside her now as she turned her face into the gentle warmth of his hand.
It was hope. And anticipation. Relief and giddy excitement. Desire. The ghost of sorrow and grief, but so much joy.
It was life.
No. It was love.
Her lips found his again, clumsy under the force of her need. His hands steadied her, tilted her head, and held her still for the slowest, sweetest kiss she’d ever tasted. Lips caressing, tongues teasing, growing deeper and deeper by millimeters until she was rocking her hips, grinding against him right there on a stone bench next to a forest path.
And she didn’t really give a shit if the whole Rios estate lined up to watch.
Her hands shook as she got his belt undone and his pants open. But she couldn’t get out of hers without giving up his mouth, and her frustrated growl had him chuckling against her lips as his hands settled on her hips.
Together they got her naked enough. And laughter shifted to moans as he dragged her back down, his cock sliding against her pussy. She would have taken him then, but he was Deacon, and Deacon always had a plan.
A slow, torturous plan.
He touched her everywhere. Legs, hips, arms, back. Sliding her sports bra free to cup her breasts. Ana clung to his shoulders and arched her back, giving him free rein to lick and suckle and nip and stroke until the heat of the sun glaring down on them was eclipsed by their fire.
Only then did he let her lift her hips and take him inside, and she was so close she almost came as she sank down on his cock. His hand gripped the back of her head, forcing her to meet his eyes as he guided her hips in a circling grind that couldn’t be doing much for him but hit every damn place she needed.
And she took it. Took him. Claimed him with greedy hands clutching his shoulders and hungry noises falling shamelessly from her lips, and when the first orgasm broke over her, she kissed him just to keep from shouting her pleasure loud enough for them to hear it at the Temple.
By the time he ground her over the edge the third time, she didn’t care. She cried out, offering her bliss to the bright blue sky, and when he shuddered and joined her, Ana didn’t have to hide from the tenderness flooding her. She wrapped her arms around him, cradled his head to her chest, and dared the world to try to take him from her.
If the world tried, she’d fight.
And she’d win. Because Ana was a fucking badass Rider.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The only thing scarier than facing down an entire company of mercenaries was facing down Ana’s aunts.
Though Deacon supposed that wasn’t quite fair. They smiled and they laughed and they seemed to like him--and Naomi and Olivia would probably only conspire to murder him if he broke Ana’s heart.
Probably.
“Deacon!” Olivia waved an arm at him from beside the buffet, where two men had joined her--one with bright red hair and one with black. When he approached, she beamed up at him. “I want you to meet my husbands. This is Jin, who works as a potter. And Aaron, who was just promoted.” She reached up to pat the redhead on the cheek. “He’s a supervisor in the Montero textile factory now.”
“Congratulations.” Deacon shook each of their hands in turn.
Olivia reached up to ruffle Deacon’s hair like he was ten years old. “Deacon helped me load a truck last week without any complaints, and he did it faster than you two ever have.”
Jin’s lips twitched. Aaron gave Olivia a look of exasperated fondness and winked at Deacon. “I’m so glad Ana brought home a nice boy who’s more helpful than we are.”
As if any of Gideon’s Riders could be called boys. Deacon nodded and looked around the room. “The first temple services must be ending. It’s getting busy.”
“Oh, this is nothing,” Jin said. “Give it another half hour and the whole neighborhood will be in here.”
“Yes, they will,” Olivia said, clapping her hands together. “You two keep him company. I’m going to make sure we’re ready for the rush.”
She enveloped Deacon in a quick, fierce hug. “I’ll be back! Don’t you go anywhere.”
Aaron watched her disappear through the swinging doors, a soft smile on his lips. Then he turned back to Deacon. “She makes it sound like a threat, but trust me. She adores you.”
“Because you make Ana happy,” Jin added. He nodded toward where Ana had gathered a cluster of neighborhood girls around her. “I haven’t seen her smiling like that since before we lost William.”
She was beaming, kneeling to speak to some of the girls and drawing others into embraces that ended with smiles and sometimes laughter. They obviously looked up to her, not her status or position as a Rider.
And who could blame them? The new roses inked on her back surrounded a sword with an unblunted edge, sharp enough to deliver death or salvation with a single blow, and it fit. Ana was as formidable as she was loving, as fierce as she was kind.
Everything, in one single, stunning smile.
“I guess we’re going to keep you,” Naomi said from his right, breaking his attention away from Ana. When he turned, she laid a hand aside his face and stared up at him with deep-brown eyes that looked so much like Ana’s. “You look at her like she’s your world. You promise me she is.”
He quelled a laugh. “You don’t mince words, Naomi.”
“Not when it comes to family.” Naomi dropped her hand and turned to stand next to him. “My daughters are grown and gone. They have their own families now. But Ana... I loved William like a brother, but some days I came close to hating him for taking her from me. I didn’t want her to spend her life alone.”
“We’re each other’s world.” Deacon found her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “I promise.”
Naomi clutched his hand for a moment. “Good,” she whispered hoarsely, before clearing her throat and shooting Aaron and Jin a sour look. “What are you two troublemakers staring at?”
“Nothing,” Aaron said too quickly at the same time as Jin said, “Seeing which one of us won the bet.”
“Bet?”
“If you made Deacon cry.”
Naomi jabbed a finger toward the kitchen. “Go help your wife before I make one of you cry.”
Jin grinned at Deacon. Aaron tossed him another wink. But they both obeyed, and Naomi shook her head. “This is what you’re getting into,” she warned him, before waving a hand to take in the people spilling out of the wide-open cafe doors and into the salon. “Them too, you know. They loved William, and they love her. They’re proud of her. She’s theirs. And if you start coming around with her, you’ll belong to the
m as much as she does.”
The Riders already belonged to everyone in the sector. But this was a different sort of belonging--these people didn’t own Ana or her actions, but they felt responsible for her. Protective of her.
Like a family.
“Excuse me.” The conversations around him melted into a vague buzz as he crossed the room. More people were pouring in, and if he didn’t steal a quiet moment with Ana right now, it would have to wait.
And waiting was unacceptable.
Ana looked up at his approach, flashing him a quick, brilliant smile before returning her attention to a little girl who was engaged in telling her a very intense story about climbing a tree to rescue a kitten. The rescue had apparently ended with a safe kitten and the cast on the girl’s arm, which Ana examined solemnly before commending the girl’s bravery.
“But next time you should wait for your parents,” Ana cautioned as she rose. “A smart warrior always waits for backup. If I had to rescue a kitten from a tree, I’d bring Deacon here with me. I’ve heard he’s something of an expert at kitten rescues.”
He managed to keep a straight face. “The trick,” he told the little girl, “is to sing to them while you wait for backup. It keeps them from getting lonely.”
“Ohhhh.” She beamed up at him with a smile lacking two teeth. “Okay!”
“Yes, that’s very good advice.” Ana waved them toward the counter across the back wall. “Why don’t you guys go see what Auntie Olivia has for temple day treats? I heard a rumor about cookies with real chocolate.”
That started a minor stampede. The children flowed around them like waves rushing back to sea, and Ana grinned at Deacon. “Hunter convinced his uncle to give Olivia a bargain on imported chocolate. Now she’s the only person on the block who can afford to sell it.”
“Really?” There was a short wall at one side of the bakery, hiding the head of a hallway from the rest of the room. Deacon grasped Ana’s hand and began pulling her toward it.
“Mm-hmm.” She twined her fingers with his and leaned into him as he tugged her into the shadowed alcove. “How are you hanging in there? I saw Naomi talking to you.”
“Your aunts don’t scare me.”
Ana lifted one eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Sure.”
“Fine, they scare me a little.” Ana was glowing, and he drank in her smile as he traced the delicate line of her jaw. “What about you?”
“What, am I scared of my aunts?”
“Smartass.” He swatted her hip. “The children. Do you still feel boxed in by their...?”
“Their dreams?” Ana wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tickling through his hair. “No. I mean, it’s still a responsibility. I hope I never forget that. But...Gideon promised me he’ll try to recruit Laurel. And if she doesn’t want to join us, there will be someone else. He knows now, how much it matters. And...”
He nuzzled her cheek. “And?”
“And I realized I don’t have to prove myself.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I always see everything I do wrong, and then I miss the most important parts. Nothing matters more to you than the lives of your Riders. You wouldn’t have put those lives in my hands if you didn’t believe in me.”
“Nope.” He took her face between his hands. “But I do believe in you. I always have. I hope you believe that, too.”
“I’m starting to.” Her heart was in her eyes, deep, beautiful brown and shining just for him. “I hope you believe how much I love you.”
“Oh, I do.” There wasn’t much time, only a few more stolen moments before someone would miss them. Deacon took advantage of those moments to kiss her, and his heart skipped when he felt her lips curve into a smile beneath his. “Almost as much as I love you.”
Maricela
When she was young, no more than seven or eight, Maricela had developed the habit of eavesdropping when her brother held meetings with his Riders in the palace. It didn’t happen often, so it was a novelty, a fine way to break the monotony of days filled with dolls and lessons and music and art.
She would hover on the balcony overlooking the second floor. It was close enough to the conference room to overhear, especially if voices were raised, or if they forgot to close the heavy wooden door. She would hover and listen, and marvel over how many people Gideon commanded.
As she got older, it grew into something else. These meetings were important occasions where people discussed important things, vital to the safety and well-being of the sector. No one had ever asked Maricela to do anything more important or vital than choose a wine to accompany the dinner menu. A different kind of novelty, but a novelty, nonetheless.
What would it be like to be important?
She didn’t have to hide on the balcony anymore, but she also wasn’t invited to the meeting. Which was rich, considering the topic of discussion had plenty to do with her life, not to mention her safety. So she stood outside the partially closed door, arms crossed over her chest, and felt not even a twinge of remorse over eavesdropping.
This time.
“We’re going to want to gather intel on this discreetly,” Gideon was saying. “Whoever hired the Suicide Kings to take out the Riders will know they failed. But they don’t know what we know. And there’s no reason to tip our hand.”
“How many people could it have been?” Zeke asked. “I mean, let’s be real. We were never going to be an easy target. Someone had to have paid big money. Noble-family kind of money.”
“We can’t assume that,” Deacon countered. “Seth would have done this job for free. Not saying he did, but I don’t think we can count on him having charged full price, either.”
“I agree.” That was Gabe’s voice, solemn and serious. “And not just because I don’t want to consider my family working with the people who killed my aunt. Seth was obsessed. Half the questions he asked me were about Deacon.”
It wasn’t cold in the palace, but Maricela shivered anyway. There weren’t many reasons why someone would consider the Riders an obstacle in their path, much less want to eliminate them. And the biggest reason was that they were Gideon’s Riders.
Her family was in danger.
“We’ll examine all the options. But in the meantime... Bishop, I’d like you to stay with Isabela until we can come up with a more permanent solution.”
“Of course.”
“And work with her household guard. I know she’ll resist this, because my sister feels strongly that her trust in the faithful will be rewarded in kind...but I want personal guards for all her children. Around the clock. This sector is not going to deal with another royal heir held hostage.”
A sharp pain splintered through Maricela. Her cousin Mad still carried scars from the kidnapping he’d endured as a child, the same one that killed his mother and father. But what too many people didn’t know was that it had scarred Gideon, as well. He would move heaven and earth--even hell--to keep it from happening again to another of his loved ones.
“I’d like to stay with Maricela,” Ivan said abruptly. “The royal guard might be fine for the younger children, but they don’t have her responsibilities. She’s out among the people too much to trust her safety to anyone but a Rider.”
No. No, no, no, no. It had already been torturous, having Ivan so close--sleeping at the foot of her bed, for God’s sake--and yet so far away. And the way he looked at her, like she was already a saintly painting on the temple wall instead of a woman--
Please tell him no. Please.
But her traitorous brother did the opposite. “I agree,” Gideon said. “Thank you, Ivan.”
Maricela could see Ivan through the crack in the door, and her pulse stuttered when he seemed to sense her gaze. His head turned, and his icy blue eyes caught hers. After a second, he inclined his head in a subtle nod. A deferential one.
Then he looked away.
Oh, shit.
Before You Leave the Sectors
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Interested in more books about Gideon and his Riders?
Book #1: Ashwin
Book #2: Deacon
Book #3: Ivan
Have you read the BEYOND series? Find out how Dallas and the O'Kanes brought down Eden...
Volume One (Contains books #1-3)
Volume Two (Contains books #4-6)
Volume Three (Contains books #7-9)
Learn more about the characters and the world by checking out the Beyond Series Guide.
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About the Author
Kit Rocha is the pseudonym for co-writing team Donna Herren and Bree Bridges. After penning dozens of paranormal novels, novellas and stories as Moira Rogers, they branched out into gritty, sexy dystopian romance. The Beyond series has appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists, and was honored with a 2013 RT Reviewer's Choice award. Get updates about their new books by subscribing to their announcement list, or visit their website at kitrocha.com
Acknowledgements
As with every book, we have an entire team to thank for helping us to the finish line. Our editor, Sasha Knight, our Keeper of Bibles and Timelines, Lillie Applegarth, our sharp-eyed proofreader, Sharon Muha, our assistant, Angie Ramey, and our community moderators, Jay and Tracy. Without this fabulous group of women, we would be lost and our books would be abandoned manuscripts. Thank you, a million times thank you.
