They accepted the decree without a token argument, surprise, surprise, and it was swiftly decided that Gwen would join the fray. Sabin’s blood had healed her after Tag and she hadn’t been hit by an arrow. Neeka’s deafness could be used against her and Taliyah wasn’t quite as equipped for airplay as the youngest Skyhawk.
A shrill whistle blasted and the groups quieted.
“Time’s up,” Juliette announced. “Take your places, everyone.”
Footsteps shuffled. While chosen team members climbed to the top of the trees, Kaia remained on the ground, watching, a painful vise-grip on her heart. A grip that tightened when she caught Juliette’s eye and the Harpy grinned with her patented smug satisfaction.
Knew you couldn’t cut it, that smile seemed to say.
Kaia tried not to flush or tear up.
“Don’t pay any attention to that hag,” Taliyah said, slapping her on the shoulder. “You’re better in every way.”
“Thanks, Tal.”
Neeka dug the hopefully unneeded medical supplies from their backpacks and joined them. None too soon, either.
Juliette raised a gun high in the air, held steady while everyone tensed, waiting, expectant, then squeezed the trigger.
Boom!
High above was an explosion of movement. Leaves rustled and bodies slammed together. Grunts of might, groans of pain and screams of rage rang out, tolling bells of injury and satisfaction. Kaia tried to keep track of her sisters, but the girls were too high up, moving too quickly, disappearing behind leaves and clouds and she soon gave up. She watched the ground, waiting for bodies to fall.
Within minutes, she felt a whoosh of air, tensed when she heard a splat. Tensed even more when she spied a motionless…Songbird a few feet away. Blood pooled around the girl as one of her teammates rushed to administer aid.
Thank the gods. Kaia’s stomach unclenched, though the burn of acid didn’t recede. Would Gwen end up that way? Bianka?
Hands fisting, body trembling, she tore her gaze from the huddle of Songbirds. At the far edge of the clearing, she spotted a shake of leaves and a flash of dark hair. An innocent Harpy, just needing a moment alone? A malicious Harpy bent on attacking someone, even though they stood on neutral ground? A Hunter, who wouldn’t care about anything but destroying his target? Or maybe Rhea herself?
Hell, for all Kaia knew, that dark hair belonged to Sabin. Or even Lazarus. The way he’d watched her at the bar, the way he’d taunted her…he wasn’t done with her. That, she knew all too well.
Taking no chances, she leaned over to Taliyah and whispered, “Saw something. Gonna check it out.”
Her oldest sister didn’t switch her attention from the fight. “Be careful. Shout if you need me.”
She knew her sister well enough to know Taliyah was merely humoring her. If she’d thought there was an actual threat, Taliyah the Cold-Hearted would have insisted on coming with her. There was another stab of hurt in Kaia’s chest, but she shook it off.
She melted into the thick, green foliage. The trees and plants actually seemed to turn away from her now, as if word had spread and they were all afraid of her. Too bad the same couldn’t be said for her fellow Harpies.
Staying low, a dagger in each hand, she worked her way around the clearing. Her legs were a bit rubbery, causing her feet to drag. She was louder than she’d intended, but there was no help for it. If the intruder didn’t notice the clomp of her boots, he’d definitely hear the beat of her heart, drumming like a jackhammer set to its fastest setting and slamming against her ribs.
Finally she spotted footprints that didn’t belong to a Harpy. These were big, thick and pressed deeply enough that whoever had made them weighed at least two hundred pounds of solid muscle.
That narrowed things down a bit. She was dealing with either a Hunter, Sabin or Lazarus. Her mind buzzed, quickly eliminating suspects. If this were a Hunter, there would be other footprints. After all, Hunters were like cockroaches. Where one hid, a thousand others did, as well. If this were Sabin, she would scent Strider. The two were never far apart.
That left Lazarus the Tampon.
Well, well. Maybe they’d have their knock-down drag-out at last. And wouldn’t you know it? They’d have that knock-down drag-out while she lacked full throttle. Wasn’t that just peachy?
A hard weight crashed into her back, throwing her face-first to the ground. That same weight pressed against her so forcefully her wings were smashed into their slits, hindering their movements and decreasing her strength even more. Oxygen gushed from her suddenly dirt-coated mouth, an explosion that left her reeling.
She’d been so determined to sneak up on her prey, she’d failed to guard her back properly. She knew better! Damn it, what was wrong with her?
Here was more proof of her weakness. No wonder her sisters hadn’t wanted her in the air.
Nothing would prevent her from fighting, though. Her claws emerged, and her fangs sprouted. But just as she attempted to twist and wedge her knee between their bodies, a male voice whispered, “Don’t. I won, and that’s that.” Satisfaction and pleasure layered that familiar—beloved—voice.
Strider. Unlike Juliette’s satisfaction, his didn’t bother her. She actually reveled in it. He was here. He was with her, alive and well. He was also in danger, but at the moment she couldn’t make that matter. He was here!
“We good?” he asked in that same silky whisper. His warm breath caressed her ear and absolute relief washed through her. Until he added, “Wait, don’t answer. That bastard Lazarus is just ahead, waiting for you. He set a trap.”
When she caught her breath, she rasped out, “What kind of trap?”
“The kind with flowers, candlelight and a bejeweled goblet filled with his probably diseased blood.”
Her eyes widened. Lazarus was going to try and…seduce her? Why? “I don’t know about diseased, but that blood is probably poisoned.” Right? A trick meant to lure her into softening before the bastard went in for the kill.
“If we’re lucky, he’ll die of disappointment when you fail to show.”
“Actually, if he’s lucky.”
“Good point. Now I have to decide whether to kill him now or kill him later.”
“Option two?” she asked hopefully.
“My thinking exactly. Right now, I have something better to do.” Strider eased back a little and she finally twisted, lying on her back. His legs straddled her waist, and his navy eyes glared down at her. Dirt smudged his sun-kissed skin and his pale hair was pink with dried blood and plastered to his face. “Don’t worry, though. He’ll get his.”
“Are you hurt?” If someone had hurt him, she would unleash her Harpy. She wouldn’t be able to help herself. She would—
“I’m fine.” His expression softened, and gods, he was beautiful. “Remember the Hunters who last attacked you? Well, they suffered afterward. You’re welcome.”
Her relief intensified, mixing with a sense of pride. This was her man, her warrior. No one was stronger. No one was as vengeful or as capable. “Thank you. Now, you have to go,” she told him, giving him a little push. “Rhea could be nearby, and you are—”
“Nope.” He didn’t budge. “Sabin and the angels are looking for her. So far, they haven’t found any hint of her presence.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“Shut it, Kaia,” he said, cutting her off a second time. “You’re in trouble and only digging the hole deeper.” He pushed to his feet only to bend down and grab her wrist, tugging her to her feet in turn, spinning them both around and leading her away from Lazarus.
Leaves and branches slapped at her, and insects buzzed, some daring to bite her.
“I can’t go too far,” she said, huffing from exertion already. Damn. Her side and leg throbbed, the wounds having opened when she fell. Now, blood trickled from each, catching in her boots.
“You’ll go as far as I tell you,” he snapped, unaware of her pain.
“Strider, listen to me. My sis
ters are fighting. I have to—”
“I don’t care what they’re doing. You and I are going to talk. Now keep it down while I find a place for us. If you don’t, I’ll gag you. And Kaia? I really hope I get to gag you.”
She pressed her lips together, silent as he urged her deeper and deeper into the forest.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
STRIDER HAULED KAIA through thickening mist and across a rushing river. When he’d first come here, the trees had tried to eat him alive and he’d had to hack his way to safety every few minutes. Now, those same trees remained perfectly still, not a single leaf dancing in the swirling breeze. What was that about?
The question ceased to matter when he reached the cave he’d discovered while tracking Kaia. Would serve her right to be thrown inside, a boulder shoved in front of the only exit. She could spend a few years in solitary confinement, thinking about her mistakes.
He meant to yell at her, he really did—for leaving him behind, for almost walking into that bastard Lazarus’s seductive trap, which Strider would punish him for setting, by the way—but as he backed her against the crystal wall, he was given his first full-length glimpse of her since tackling her fine ass to the ground. Her gorgeous red hair was damp at the ends and dripping little water beads onto her bare stomach.
The river had washed away the makeup that always coated her skin, leaving her glimmering like a diamond in blazing sunlight. Not as brightly as before, though. And she was shivering. He frowned. Why was she shivering? It was as hot as hell in here.
That did nothing to diminish her appeal. Nothing could. Maybe because she wore a tiny half top and a pair of shorts. Both were white, now see-through, and he saw. Blushing, beaded nipples, and then, between the long, lithe length of her legs, a delicious patch of red in the center, and if he didn’t look away soon his erection would bust through the zipper on his pants.
He studied the rest of her. She was injured, he realized. The angry wounds in her side and on her thigh caused fury to well inside him, replacing the lust. No wonder her skin lacked its most brilliant sheen and her body couldn’t stop trembling.
He bit into his wrist and held the wound to her mouth. “Drink.”
Moaning in ecstasy, she obeyed. Such exquisite suction, he thought, such warmth. Her eyes closed in surrender. When he saw the torn muscle and then the flesh weaving back together, he nodded in satisfaction and removed his arm.
He was the one to groan this time. Of course, lack of injury left her beautiful skin bare and unmarred, allowing him to eat her back up with his eyes. The lust returned full force.
Gaze…up… Her lips were pouty, moist. Higher. Because, damn. He was throbbing. Her silver-gold eyes were luminous with all kinds of emotion. Upset, relief, arousal of her own, hurt. He wanted to wipe away the bad and magnify the good. And the only way to do that, he told himself, was to have her. Finally. All the way, nothing held back.
Yeah, baby. He liked the thought of that. Felt as if he were thinking clearly for the first time in his life. He needed what she offered. Wanted to stake his claim, warn every other man away.
There would be consequences, he was sure, but he couldn’t make that matter. Not here, not now. She’d left him and struck out on her own, and the separation had nearly driven him to the brink of insanity.
He pressed his body against hers and she gasped. Such a lovely sound, needy and wanton.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice low and sultry. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”
“Welcome.”
“Do you still want to gag me? Because I recommend using a racket ball and duct tape if you do.”
“No need for a gag. I can handle you.” If he couldn’t, well, there was no better way to go.
Her breath hitched. “Really?” Now her tone was verging on the edge of hope.
He nodded. “Really. So let’s figure out what I need to do to hit this one out of the park.”
“O-okay.”
“You once told me Paris had given you a bazillion orgasms. Your words, not mine. So exactly how many is a bazillion?”
Her cheeks pinkened and she was adorable, all the sexier, in her embarrassment. “I don’t know. I didn’t count. And I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Think back. Count. And you’re going to talk about him, once and only once. After this conversation you will forget him. Forever.”
“Why?” She flattened her palms on his chest. “Why make me think back, I mean, when I only want to think about you?”
“My demon. Why else?” He traced a fingertip along her jaw. “So do it. Please.”
Win.
Shocking, he thought dryly. I will. He hoped.
Understanding dawned in her expression, and with it, fear. She’d just realized Strider had to give her more orgasms than Paris had. That even sex was to be a challenge to him. Was she wondering if they’d ever have any peace? If there’d ever be a moment just for them, no games, no winner, no loser?
“You knew that’s how it would be before you accepted me as your consort,” he said stiffly. “Don’t even consider tossing me aside now. So do it. Think back and tell me.”
“I don’t want to toss you aside. I don’t want you hurt, either.” She chewed on her bottom lip, a nervous action he recognized. “He gave me f-four, I think.”
That stutter… “You think or you know?”
A pause. More chewing. “I, uh, know. Yes, I know. Four. It was four. For sure.”
Win.
Shut it. I will. He would give her (at least) five orgasms before he came. And he would blow her mind with every single one of them. But he’d have to deliver them while she was still clothed. Moment he stripped her, he would be inside her, filling her up, losing the control he needed.
“I have to say, I’m a little surprised you consider four a bazillion, but to each his own. Just prepare yourself for a quadrillion.” He reached between their bodies and un-snapped her shorts.
Her eyes widened. “We’re having sex now?”
“Yes.” Unziiip. He arched a brow. “After your assembly line of orgasms. Is that a problem?”
“No. It’s just…do you remember when I said I didn’t want you hurt? Well, I meant, I didn’t want to accidentally hurt you. So you’ll just…damn it, you’ll need a safe word.” Her chest heaved with the force of her breathing. “I’m sorry.”
Baffled, he paused. “Me? I’ll need a safe word?” And she hadn’t been afraid he’d fail, only that she’d injure him. He nearly grinned. Already this was the best sexual experience of his life.
She nodded, unsure. “Are you okay with that?”
Delectable female. His gaze lowered to the gap in her shorts. White panties. Lace. Nice. “How about a safe phrase? Mine will be ‘someone’s out there.’” He didn’t wait for her reply, but dropped to his knees.
“Oh, gods.” Her belly quivered. “Okay, yes, okay. Gods, I’m repeating myself, but that works.”
His gaze locked on the shadow of red beneath the lace and his mouth watered. He leaned in and nuzzled her with his nose, inhaling the sweet scent of female.
“Oh, gods,” she said again. “You—you’ll be the best, Strider, you don’t have to worry. Okay? I know it.”
Just then he wasn’t worried about anything; his mind was locked on her and only her. On learning her taste, hearing her beg for more, feeling her clutching at him, maybe pulling at his hair.
He forced her legs to part as far as they could with the shorts restricting her movements. Unmindful of her panties, he pressed the tip of his tongue against the heart of her, the heat. Pressed harder. Gods, he could already taste her and he’d never liked anything more.
The ache in his cock intensified, nearly unbearable. Damn. How good would it feel if he reached down, curled his fingers around his shaft, stroked up and down while burying his face between her legs?
He was reaching down before he realized he’d moved. Damn it. He gripped her thighs. He’d have to blank his mind, perform but
remain distanced. Only when he’d beaten Paris could he consider his own pleasure.
Strider flicked his tongue over the tight bud of her clitoris.
“Oh, gods, yes,” she gasped out.
No need to force his mind to blank. Her pleasured cry short-circuited his thoughts. Satisfied, he wanted her satisfied. Damp, her panties were damp, but he wanted them soaking.
Next his tongue traced lazy circles around her heated center, swiped back and forth, up and down, hitting her from every possible angle. When she began arching her hips to meet him, he caressed his hands up and down her calves, her thighs, then under her shorts. Such soft, smooth skin…so damn warm.
Though he wanted to tunnel his hands up, higher, thrust his fingers inside her, he merely teased her with the possibility, his tongue never ceasing its assault, and finally, sweetly, she gripped the back of his head and held his mouth firmly against her. She was panting, sheened with perspiration.
“I need…I have to have…” She ground him where she needed him most. “Strider!” she screamed as she came.
One down, four to go.
He stood to shaky legs. Without a word, he spun her, forcing her to face the wall. His cock rubbed against her ass and he sucked in a ragged breath. His fingers glided around, sliding under her shorts, inside her panties. Contact. Skin to hot, wet female core, and oh, sweet heaven, she felt exquisite.
A groan slipped from her. Her back arched. Her arms lifted and then her nails were scraping through his hair. He rubbed her swollen little clitoris before inserting one finger deep inside her inner sheath, moving it in and out, in and out, inserting a second finger, moving them in and out, in and out, until she once again writhed against him, desperate for release.
“Strider, I need, I need…”
“I know, baby doll.” He gave her a third finger, stretching her. With his free hand, he reached up and cupped one of her breasts. A perfect handful. Her nipple was beaded, probably aching. He pinched. She gasped. The sound affected him, drove his own need higher. “How am I doing?”
“The best. No one better. Please.”
The Darkest Surrender lotu-9 Page 26
