Theta Waves Box Set: The Complete Trilogy (Books 1-3) (Theta Waves Trilogy)

by Thea Atkinson

  "Kat," she prompted, wishing her pulse wasn't pounding so fast in her throat.

  "Right." He scooped his arm beneath her knees and lifted her as easily as a child would lift a ragdoll. She saw a blur of walls as he strode from the dais to the place where she'd seen the Beast waiting for her. He seemed careful not to let her see anything else, and she assumed the scene was too horrific to take in.

  "Where is everyone?"

  "I sent them away." He eased her down onto the cushioned sofa, and turned to pull the curtains closed, shutting off the arena, enclosing them in a private space that she could believe was never part of such horror. He pushed in next to her. She felt the muscles of his thigh tremor against hers. With one arm behind her shoulders, he used his free hand to tilt her chin toward him.

  "So there the both of us were," he said, "and the lid flies open and I swear I see God, the light is so bright and the shadow that blocked it out was so tall. But it was her. Flamethrower in hand. Looked like she might have had a malfunction with the unit because her skin was all –"

  Theda squeezed her eyes shut at that. She knew exactly what the skin looked like. "Cain," she said.

  "What about him?"

  "Kat tried to burn him." She coughed, and that seemed to help. "She nearly killed us both. Except..."

  "Except?"

  She felt her mouth move in a ridiculous grin. "Except we can't be killed."

  His grin echoed hers. "Yes. I figured that out." He raked fingers through her hair, clearing it of tangles. "Bridget and I did a lot of whispering in the chamber." He shook himself as though he wanted to forget how it felt to be so isolated. Then he cupped her ear as his gaze fell to her lips.

  "So there she was that she-demon, all burned to a crisp and hairless and--pissed, and she told me where you were, and what would happen if I didn't get my lazy ass the fuck out of bed and go get you."

  Theda felt his hand slip beneath the shift to glide over her skin and the heat of his palm made her body arch toward him.

  His hand was roaming her belly as though it had forgotten the topography and he needed to ground himself.

  "What are you doing?"

  "How can you never seem to know what I'm doing when it's so painfully obvious?" he murmured, then bent his head so that his nose slipped behind her ear, his breath shivering down her neck. She felt his lips claim her pulse, then trail their way to her voice box, taking particular care to whisper across the path the rope had taken. She realized her eyes were squeezed shut, that she was twisting her head so that he could reach every bit of flesh on her throat.

  "Well, I know what-- it's just the time..."

  "You always worry about the time." He kissed the corners of her eyes. "The time is perfect."

  "But here..." She heard the revulsion in her voice as she thought about what lay behind the curtain.

  "The place is perfect. Here. Where He wanted to take you from me." His last words were a growl that disclosed more of how he felt than his words could. "You're mine. The next time someone tries to take what's mine, I will kill them, and I will not be ashamed to enjoy it."

  His hand cupped her breast and squeezed almost ferociously, the tips of his fingers digging into the crest of her armpit. The pain was exquisite, so much so that when his hand left her, she moaned forward, pressing into him, her body begging for what her throat couldn't.

  "What's this?"

  She was so lost in his touch that at first she didn't understand what he was talking about. When she opened her eyes, she saw he was holding the unused smear.

  "Insurance," she said and recovered herself enough to peel the other two from her skin. She pushed them into his pocket, then wordlessly cupped the back of his neck and pulled him closer. She was done talking. He was right. She wanted him to wipe out any thought of this place except for the feel of him inside her.

  When he fastened his mouth over hers, she let his tongue invade her. She wanted him to know how badly she wanted to be his, how totally she surrendered to him. Within a few fluttering heartbeats, he had pulled the edges of her robe aside and was roaming her body with his lips, tasting where she perspired in fear as though he could wash it away with his tongue. She expected him to enter her, but when his mouth went to her mound instead, she realized he was trying to communicate that he was hers as well. That he was surrendering in his own way. He nuzzled her folds, pulling first one, then the other into his mouth and drawing on them until she thrust her hips upward to meet him. He thrust into her with his tongue, rasping against her clitoris as he pulled out. He pushed two fingers in to hook against her from within, grinding them over her G-spot even as his tongue worked her clit. She ground against his touch.

  "It's not enough," she moaned.

  "It's never enough," he murmured against her sex, and the feel of his breath sent delicious shivers up her spine. "Now you know how I feel."

  He pulled his fingers free, letting her understand exactly what he meant. She groaned at the abandonment, her core feeling empty and aching because she did understand. Now she fully grasped what he'd meant by his words each time he'd made love to her. She didn't feel complete unless he was inside, planted so far into her that she could almost believe he would take root there.

  "Tell me, Minou," he said. "Tell me how badly you need me."

  "More than godspit," she said. "I need you like I need a fix."

  His answer was a low groan that sent his hands to his buckle. "You are my fix," he said, pulling his member free and rubbing the head of the great shaft against the juices that were already wetting her thighs. He buried his face in her neck, his mouth against her ear. "You're my fix, my god, my atonement."

  He shifted slightly, so that he could grip her ass, positioning her perfectly against his shaft. There was a moment when she experienced an anxious pressure, then she felt the massive head pierce her opening and she gasped with the exquisite agony of it, his cock taking up every bit of space.

  "I don't care if I'm left in a mortal body," he said, driving deep and taking her breath for a moment. He drove in with a force that made her cry out, and yet she met him sex to sex, eager to devour every inch of him, to give him every inch of her. When he eased away, he did so languidly, giving her time to comprehend how badly she wanted him to fill her again, teasing her. His next thrust was harder still, propelling her against the arm of the chair, pinning her there without room to retreat.

  "I don't care if I never return to paradise."

  Her response was to spread her hands across his ass and yank him closer as he battered her, spreading her thighs to accommodate his hips as he bore down on her. He withdrew again, resting the swollen head of his shaft against her clitoris. He gripped his cock, tracing circles with it, forcing a moan from her that made him hesitate in surprise. She sought his gaze, questioning him, and he met it with such a fierce look of possession that her heart stuttered.

  "I don't care about any of it," he said." So long as this human body can have yours."

  He seemed to be waiting for something, an answer, she realized, as though he still didn't believe he could be absolved. What words could be enough to say how completely she needed him? None. She'd survived atrocious things, faced worse, with and without him. She'd proved to herself that she could live alone, survive alone, come what may, but the hollow inside was still there, not willing to fill in with anything less than this man.

  She gave her answer by retreating from his cock, shifting on the chair so that she had moved from beneath him, to positioned in front of his hips. She gripped his swollen member, tracing the lines of vein from root to head with her fingers. It was a huge cock. She'd known that when he'd first taken her, but she'd never seen it hard and straining for her like it was now.

  She wet her lips, looking up at him, making certain he could see everything in her gaze: how she wanted him, how she needed him. His green eyes met hers with trepidation. She slipped her mouth over the silk of his cock, bearing down toward the root. She would take it all or she would
take none. His fingers clutched her nape, and she could sense how hard he was struggling not to force her mouth home. His arms trembled with restraint against her ears as the back of her throat locked up, stubbornly refusing to open. He gasped as he struck it, then sucked back a moan. She kept his eye, forcing him to lock his gaze on hers, willing her throat to let him in.

  And then her muscles surrendered and he was sliding down her throat, her lips meeting the nest of hair at his root. Her throat convulsed on him, eliciting a groan that had him frantically pulling out of her mouth and scrambling for her sex. He wasn't gentle when he reached for her, throwing her backwards and forcing his cock between her legs, plowing between her slick folds with ruthless need.

  He found his rhythm quickly and easily, until her body remembered his girth and adjusted so pleasurably that she felt as though she were riding some drug that gave her a full body high. Each time he knocked against her womb, she opened wider, eager to let him chase away the darkness buried in her core. The agony of withdrawal retreated in the face of his invasion; there was no room anymore for any need but of him.

  His grip on her could have been an exhausted swimmer clinging to a life raft, except she thought that it was she who was clinging to him, that each thrust was one more paddle to shore.

  She thought she came before he did, but she was so delirious with pleasure, she couldn't be sure. All she knew was she had exploded into a thousand white sparks so fast, she couldn't count them, and yet she swore she could see the trails of light they left, that led back to her core, reassembling themselves into the mortal body.

  He cradled her afterward almost apologetically, stroking her arms and whispering kisses over her skin. They lay together until her heart began to beat normally again and the soreness in her muscles started to abate. When she felt stronger, she pulled the coarse-spun robe back together, slapping his fingers as he tried to peel it off again.

  "Later," she said. "In a proper bed where I can see your skin through the blood and enjoy you."

  "You don't like my raid and pillage look?"

  "It's sort of creepy," she confessed, looking down at how she must appear to him. "Mind you, I don't look much better. I can't imagine why you'd..."

  "You're mine," he said, capturing her eyes with his. "Even if I have to stay as the Pale Rider for another millennium, so long as I have you during this life time it will be worth it."

  "You won't have to," she said. "We won. He's gone."

  He eased away, buckling his pants back over his hips, something cautious weighing his shoulders down.

  "Not quite yet," he said. "Let me show you something."

  He lifted her from the chair, hefting her into his arms and striding through the auditorium, pressing her face into his chest so she couldn't see the terrifying results of his rescue. The elevator ride was a quiet one, as she contemplated the destination, and she wasn't surprised when the doors slid open and she smelled smoke. She knew the path he took as he carried her, and she expected by the time they'd reached one of the furthest cells in the corridor that she would feel a renewed sense of anger over all the horror she'd been subjected to, but when he halted in front of a narrow cell, she felt nothing.

  The soldier outside held an assault weapon and was flanked by several shelves of flamethrowers, Tasers, knives, and pistols. Enough firepower to hold back an army.

  "General Daniel," she said, recognizing him.

  He nodded and spoke to Ezekiel. "He's contained inside."

  "How long before you're relieved?"

  "Six hours. Then it's General Michael. Then General Gabriel."

  "Good. Round-the-clock. I'll do my time after that."

  "No need. We have others."

  "Can we trust others?"

  General Daniel gave Theda a quick nod and smiled. "We can now."

  Ezekiel clapped him on the shoulder and unlocked the door. It yawned open to reveal a large isolation chamber. Theda was willing to bet the Beast was inside it.

  "He's in there?" she asked.

  Ezekiel nodded. "He'll have to be let go eventually. For his judgment. But for now we'll keep watch on him."

  "Not dead, then." She wasn't sure she liked the coldness of her own tone.

  "Not dead. Like you and I and Cain. Not possible. At least not right now."

  "I understand," she said. She was disappointed but not surprised. She twisted down from Ezekiel's arms and padded barefoot over to the chamber, pulling the coarse material closed against her breasts. "He's pretty hurt though, right?"

  Ezekiel followed her, as if he didn't dare let her get too far away from him. He stood next to her and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I did my best."

  She chewed her lip, thinking. "Give me the smears," she said.

  His charcoal brows scuttled downward, but he pulled the smears from his pockets.

  "Open the lid." She lifted the drug from his palm.

  "Are you sure you want to see him?"

  "I do."

  Ezekiel unsnapped the locks and slid the cover down. When Theda looked inside, she could see how deeply Ezekiel had cut into the Beast's throat. Whatever protection the demon had, it was enough to keep his head from being severed, but she knew that it had taken a great deal of strength to get that far. Beneath closed eyelids, the Beast's eyes moved restlessly as though he were dreaming. Theda peeled the back of the unused smear then placed it alongside the other two in her hand. She wasn't sure if there was any drug left on the last ones, but she didn't really care. One, two, or three: she'd take what ever was there.

  She remembered the Beast throwing a godspit smear into the chamber with her when he'd captured her; she'd thought it was an opportunity to escape coming pain, but it was really just a way to make it worse by creating heightened withdrawal. She'd saved it in case she needed it and had ended up giving it to Ami. Ami. Kat had saved him, and so he was alive somewhere, in a hospital, waking no doubt to a horrific withdrawal.

  Then Kat had saved Theda, too, by doing the same thing: not taking the smears meant to either overdose her or relieve her pain. Now that drug sat in Theda's palm, ready to be offered in all its heightened glory to a being that had never once partaken of bliss.

  She reached in and pinched the Beast's mouth open, laying the smears on his tongue and closing his mouth with a click.

  She met Ezekiel's confused gaze and shrugged.

  "The least I can do for the man," she said, "is to let him wake up with a Hell of a hangover."

  "If what I heard about godspit is true, Minou, then he'll have that in spades."

  "What does that mean?"

  "In spades?" His charcoal brow scuttled down in confusion.

  "Minou."

  He smiled so broadly, his canines caught at the edges of his lips. "It means little cat."

  She gaped at him and he gave her a precocious shrug before he leaned down to kiss the corner of her mouth.

  "You were so feral when I first saw you, all wild and untamed and so, so little." He gaze was still locked on her lips and she squirmed with the lust she saw there.

  "You're like her, you know." His arm went round the small of her back, pulling her against him.

  She thought of the Red General, wondering what had become of her and she bristled, pulling away indignantly.

  "I'm nothing like her."

  His brow quirked at her reaction and he chuckled. "A ball full of spit and hiss? You're right. You're nothing like her."

  "I meant cold and callous. She's evil."

  "Indeed, Minou," he murmured, placing his hand on the lid of the isolation chamber and pushing it closed. "She's evil straight to the core."

  Something in his tone made her feel guilty. She chewed her lip, thinking about the smoking piles of soldiers the woman had set alight in order to clear the corridors, the smears she had pushed beneath Theda's bra. She looked up at Ezekiel, knowing the woman had freed him and sent him to stop the Beast.

  "What could have made the difference?" she said. "Between us?"
<
br />   "The difference is she found Him at her worst." His glance fell on the tank. "And you found me."

  She felt Ezekiel's fingers thread through hers as he said it, his warm palm mating with the skin of her palm. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he locked on hers, and she drank him in, realizing that whatever came next, they would meet it together. And that made all the difference for her.

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