by A. C. Arthur
Then his entire body warmed and he stilled, the war raging within him ceasing immediately. She had a hand on his shoulder. It was her good arm, the other one slack at her side, drenched in blood.
“Let’s go home,” she said quietly. “The truck’s out back. We can leave right now.”
He didn’t want to leave, and yet, there was a part of him that did. It wasn’t running, no, he convinced himself that wasn’t the case. But he could walk away with her, with Nivea, and not have to see her die because of events he’d set in motion. Not this time. She would still be alive. Unlike Acacia, and eventually Leanne.
Eli took a step.
“I’ve got you,” he said, bending slightly and picking her up in his arms. “We’ll go back and get you some help.”
She looked like she was about to say something, but in the end, simply nodded. He walked to the back of the barbershop and out the door to the waiting SUV. Aidan had already gotten out and was holding the back door open. Eli only nodded to the other shifter before climbing onto the backseat with Nivea still held tightly against his chest. With each inhale he smelled her blood. That scent permeated every crevice of his body, until his heart pounded, his cat hissed, and the thought of ever losing her settled like a dark cloud in his mind.
* * *
“Your bath is ready,” Eli said an hour after they’d been at Havenway.
Ezra had been correct, and Ary had neatly sewn the gash in Nivea’s shoulder closed. In a day or so it would heal completely, the stitches dissolving on their own and Nivea’s shoulder returning to normal. That was the way Shadows healed, fast and neat, unless the injury was fatal; then they died just as any ordinary human. Other than that, cancer was the only human ailment that could also kill a shifter. It was complex, the ins and outs of their genetic makeup, which made him realize how foolish it was to ever try and duplicate it. Unfortunately, Captain Crowe was obviously not privy to that same knowledge. Either that or he simply did not care, which Eli was personally putting his money on.
Nivea was sitting on the side of Eli’s bed where he’d left her. She’d wanted to go to her own area, had said she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Still, he’d brought her here. Her room at Havenway was on the other side of the complex, near the western exit and supply room. He wouldn’t hear her if she cried out in pain from all the way over there. With his shifter senses, he probably should have, but he wouldn’t. Or at least he wasn’t certain he would, and so that had not been an option.
When she didn’t move immediately he went to the bed, reaching for her hand to lead her.
“It wasn’t your fault, you know,” she said when she looked up at him.
Blood still stained her clothes. Half the white tank top she’d worn beneath the guard T-shirt was red. The skin along her chest and one arm was stained with the color. Even the side of her face and jaw had blood on them. It made him frown, even though the cat had long since calmed to an almost normal state.
“It shouldn’t have happened,” he told her frankly. “Now, let’s get your bath.”
She took his hand then, her fingers feeling thinner than he ever remembered before. Rising from the bed she moved only a fraction slower than normal and she walked with the same sure steps. Still, Eli held onto her, forcing himself to move with her and ushering her through the bathroom door before him.
His hands were steady as he bent down to untie her laces. She leaned into him while he pulled off each boot, putting them to the side. Her ankle socks rolled off easily and he held the heel of her foot in his hand for just a second longer than he should have. With resignation he undid the buckle of her pants, unzipped, and began pushing them down her legs.
“Really, Eli, I can do this myself,” she told him, her tone steady.
It wasn’t that she was modest, he already knew that wasn’t true. The physical contact between them wasn’t an issue either, because they’d been there and done that and if he wasn’t completely off the mark, she would be willing to do it all over again. As much as the case should be different, he had to admit to himself that he was in the same boat. He wanted her again, and again.
“Be quiet and let me get this done,” he implored. If she could just do that he’d have her in and out of the tub and tucked securely into his bed in no time. Then he could find Ezra and learn what happened to Rimas.
He hadn’t killed him, Eli was certain. But he’d been on his way to that end, he knew without a doubt. Drawing his lips tightly, he pushed down Nivea’s pants and panties at the same time, averting his gaze so that the clean-shaven triangle between her legs didn’t tempt him any more than the memory of how slick and plump the skin was there. When he touched the rim of the T-shirt he felt his brow knot, his shoulders tensing as the damp cloth rubbed along his skin. Hurriedly he yanked the material apart, not wanting to ask her to lift her arm. The sports bra she was wearing came off the same way, ripped and unable to be worn again.
Nivea didn’t seem to mind as she turned and was ready to climb into the tub. Of course Eli reached out to pick her up, moving close before kneeling to set her into the tub. There were no bubbles, only hot water to soothe the aching muscles he was sure she probably had.
When she sat back, sighing as the steam immediately went to work on her body, Eli was about to stand up and walk away. He would go to the sink to retrieve the cloth and soap to wash her. Then he would carry her out and cover her delectable body up before he did something he knew was selfish considering the circumstances.
“Why did he want to kill you?”
The question stilled him instantly.
“He said you’d killed his brother. Who was he?”
Eli did not want to answer either of those questions. He did not want to talk about this situation, especially not with her. But how could he deny her? She’d taken a knife in the shoulder because of what he’d done all those years ago. How could he not tell her everything that had led up to the moment she’d been assaulted?
To keep his thoughts focused Eli moved across the room to obtain the cloth and soap. Going to his knees beside the tub he dipped them both into the water until the cloth was soaped then proceeded to rub gently at the blood on her cheek.
“His name is Pedro Rimas,” he said, speaking quietly. “His brother was Lonzo and he’d been involved with a woman named Leanne.”
Eli hadn’t said her name for so long it felt awkward slipping past his lips. He moved the cloth down her neck, rubbing softly until the streaks were gone.
“One night I witnessed Lonzo assaulting Leanne. He knocked her out cold like she was some guy on the street. I just reacted,” he said, not shrugging the way he felt like doing. Instead he kept his gaze on the cloth and all the places that blood needed to be cleaned from.
The words were coming and he was minutely grateful, because denying her this explanation was just simply not an option. But his mind was quickly losing focus. The darkness of his past combined with the sensual feeling of the present. He’d never bathed a woman before, never wanted to do something so intimate, and yet, right now, all he wanted was to wash her completely clean of all the anger and rage he’d sent her way this afternoon.
Clearing his throat of the lump that had slowly begun to form there, he continued.
“Leanne and I dated for almost a year. Then it was over and eventually she began seeing Lonzo. When I saw them that night it was the first time in months. And when he hit her I just reacted.”
Dipping the cloth into the water then lifting it up to her shoulder, he let the water drip down her chest and arms. If she was uncomfortable, it only showed in the quick jolt of her chest. She never spoke a word. Eli continued to rinse the upper portion of her body, then soaped the cloth again and washed the lower parts, being as gentle as he had been before. He did not continue with his explanation even though there was more in his mind about what happened, more thoughts, concerns, regrets. He’d reenacted that scene so many times.
From the moment he’d first struck Lonzo
, until the last punch to the back of the man’s head as he was crawling on the floor. It was straight to his skull, his sharp teeth bared but not penetrating—because while he was the cat in every other aspect, his human body was still intact. The man had died and Eli had been arrested that night. Two weeks later, while he was out on bail, he’d gone to see Leanne, apologies on his lips. But it was too late. That’s what her letter said, the one that lay next to her lifeless body strewn naked across her bed. She’d overdosed on pain pills. And the guilt had hung around Eli’s neck like metal chains.
“You killed him to protect her.”
Her voice was soft, her fingers wet as they touched his cheek. He’d been staring down into the water for who knew how long. But when he heard her speak he’d looked up slowly to see her gaze intent on him.
“And she killed herself to get away from me,” he admitted for the first time in all these years. “I couldn’t give her what she wanted or needed so she turned to him. Then I killed him and she had nothing. So she died.”
“And your penance is to continue to have nothing because that’s what you think you deserve,” she said while shaking her head. “Oh, Eli.”
“It is done,” he said, moving so abruptly water splashed over the side of the tub. He stood then, walking to the small closet and pulling out a towel. “Let’s get you into bed. You should rest.”
“I don’t need to rest,” she said disdainfully, coming to a stand in the tub so that water dripped in quick succession over her lush nakedness.
He breathed in deep, his chest constricting, temples throbbing incessantly as he wrestled with imminent desire and constant inner betrayal. He shouldn’t want Nivea. He’d decided long ago that there would never be another female in his life that could ultimately end up hurt or worse. Yet, he did want her, and in the last few hours felt as if he wouldn’t take another breath if something happened to her.
“And I don’t need you handling me with kid gloves,” she exclaimed, extending an arm to grab the towel he’d been holding with a death grip from his hands.
Wrapping the towel around her, shielding all that he wanted from his view, Nivea stepped out of the tub.
“This is ridiculous and then again, it’s not. I completely understand your guilt, but I’m here to tell you it’s unnecessary. You can’t live your life blaming yourself for other people’s faults or actions.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, so it’s probably best to stop talking altogether,” he told her.
“Is that your way of telling me to shut up?”
His reply was to walk out of the bathroom, leaving her and whatever else she thought she wanted to say to him, alone. In his room Eli ran his hands down his face. He tried to steady his breathing, to get a grip on all that was going on around him and to stop thinking about fucking her again and again!
“Okay, let’s just talk about this. Something really bad happened to you and you reacted. But it doesn’t make you an awful person, Eli. You’re stronger than this. I know you are.”
“You don’t know anything about me!” he yelled.
Then he clapped his lips shut and turned away from her. He tried counting from one hundred, taking in slow and deep breaths, each method of relaxation that was supposed to work. He did not want to talk about his past, and most of all not with her. Eli was certain she wouldn’t understand. Hell, there was still so much he didn’t understand himself.
“You will not go into the field until I say so. You are officially on medical leave,” he said, walking to the door with every intention of locking her inside if that’s what it took to keep her safe.
“What?” she yelled back. “Are you out of your damned mind? I’m not a child that you can just dictate to, Eli. I’m an adult and I’m—”
Whatever she was going to say was lost in the next three seconds as Eli spun around, crossed the room, and grabbed her into his arms, smashing his lips down over hers in a hungry kiss that stole his breath, his mind, and almost every single dark part of him at once.
CHAPTER 10
Kissing Eli was like being engulfed by a raging storm. He took everything from her, air, thought, inhibitions, it all melted away with each stroke of his tongue. She fell into him at that moment, being dragged under and struggling to breathe. His strong hands cupped her face and she grabbed his wrists to keep herself standing upright. His teeth scraped along her lips, her chin, then his tongue was plunging deep again. Their breathing was erratic, hearts beating wildly as hunger threatened to consume them both.
Then she was lifted off her feet and dropped onto the bed, the towel she’d been holding around her body falling to the side, coolness from the air-conditioned room slapping against her exposed skin. He grabbed her ankles then, pulling them apart and pushing them back until her legs bent, feet planted on the bed. She hissed his name, but he ignored her, leaned down until his lips were touching her plump folds, his tongue delving deep into her center, swirling around until her hips jolted up off the bed. When she shivered all over his tongue moved upward, circling around her clit until she was biting her bottom lip, the cat inside purring with complete glory.
Nivea couldn’t close her eyes. She couldn’t fall into the pleasure, the warrior in her held her from succumbing so easily. “I won’t do as you command,” she said through clenched teeth.
He barely paused, but his attention slipped from front to back, his tongue swirling over her anus, dampening her there. Her teeth chattered, fingers gripping the sheets of the bed. All the while she shook her head, refusing to let his words stand. She would not allow him to control her. Regardless of whether or not Eli Preston was her mate, he would not dictate what she could or could not do in her life. She’d vowed after leaving New York to never live that way again.
“I won’t,” she whispered.
He pulled his mouth away from her and Nivea felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She missed his mouth on her immediately, but would not make a sound.
“You want to act tough?” he asked, not looking up at her, his gaze still locked on her soaking wet pussy, on the remnants of his clever ministrations.
“You want to tempt me and yet defy me,” he continued, rubbing a finger up and down her slit until her entire body trembled. He circled her clit, rubbing in teasing circles until her pussy pulsated, her essence dripping onto the bed.
“I won’t see you hurt,” he told her, his voice tight, restrained. He dipped a finger inside of her, pressing deep then pulling back. In went two fingers this time, stretching inside her, pressing with delicious pleasure against her walls.
“You can’t … control … me,” she gasped, her chest heaving, eyes still focused on the top of his head.
He looked up then, their gazes locking, holding, simmering. His fingers slipped from her center, down, back, until one wet digit was pressing into her anus, stretching the sensitive skin there, breaching a barrier Nivea had never known the feeling of before. She drew in a breath, loving the feel of how tight her body sucked on his finger.
“You sure about that, my little hellcat?” he asked, one of his thick brows rising.
Nivea struggled to keep herself still, her eyes open and her gaze focused on him. This was a battle for control, for everything she’d ever worked for and she felt like she was losing. Her body wanted this pleasure. The cat inside wanted everything Eli, its mate, was offering her at this moment. But was that enough? The human in her knew it wasn’t, it knew the game Eli was playing. He would use her pleasure to control her, just as Richard had once used her innocence to keep her quiet.
“No!” she yelled at him. Then with all the strength she could muster she closed her legs, rolling to the side until his finger was dislodged, her shoulder throbbing with the pressure of being pushed into the mattress.
He’d been about to say something, to rebut the single word she’d been able to speak, when there was a knock at the door. A soft, tentative knock, as if someone knew he’d need a moment to respond. Nivea inhal
ed deeply, their companheiro calor so strong and assaulting to her senses that she almost wanted to cry out. Instead Nivea rolled completely off the bed, grabbing the towel, and headed back into the bathroom, leaving Eli and the anger surrounding him like a cloak behind.
* * *
“The press is all over what happened today,” Rome said solemnly. “Ezra dropped Rimas off at the hospital. His wounds were deep scratches in a clawlike pattern. He’s mumbling about hearing growling, seeing weird animal eyes and long sharp teeth. As of about ten minutes ago the police had finally been allowed back into the room to question him more. Reporters are all over the hospital and your barbershop. They’re looking for a connection to the reports of loud, animal-like growling the night of the charity ball. The rumor of the cat people grows stronger every day.”
Only a leader such as Rome could make a statement that long seem like one single death sentence. There were equal measures of compassion mixed with the bitter sting of guilt being thrust at him for what he’d done. He’d run out into the open to confront the hybrid the night of the charity ball. He and the Sanchez brothers engaged it without thought to who might have been on the streets to see them. And today, he’d seen that knife sink into Nivea’s skin, smelled the strong scent of her blood, could almost taste it in the back of his throat as he watched it drip down her arm, and he’d reacted. It was that simple. And Eli could truthfully say that if put in the same circumstances, he would do it again.
“I didn’t shift and I didn’t kill him,” was what he finally said to the shifter he’d grown to care for and respect a great deal.
