by Inez Kelley
He dipped his chin, aiming to swipe that pink wet flesh with his tongue when she stepped away. She walked into the shower and he froze, not moving from his knees, just watching her. Water rained down, trickling over her shoulders to course down her breasts. She angled her head back to wet her hair. Droplets dotted her face, clinging to her lashes and beading on her lips. Lips that smiled at him in invitation.
“Wash my back?”
Rampant want urged him to slam her against the shower wall, thrust hard inside her and rock them until they both were spent. Gritting his teeth, he fought that impulse. Instead, he stepped into the shower and took the cloth, filled it with foamy soap and stroked every conceivable inch of her skin. Rounded nails dug into his shoulder as she clung to him while he washed between her legs thoroughly, teasing between her slick folds.
Soap was forgotten as he worked his fingers inside her, rubbing over her clit with one goal in mind. He held her there, on the peak of orgasm, until she gave him what he wanted — his name on her tongue. She scratched, she squirmed, she bucked into his palm but he never increased his rhythm.
“Oh God, please… please…don’t stop…oh…oh…Erik!”
Victory flushed through him. He increased the pressure of his fingers. Lacy exploded. The tiny bud quivered, drew tighter until her knees shook and sweet, low sounds of climax mixed with the water’s cadence.
He held her until her trembling stopped. She looked at him in awe, as if he were a god. “That was incredible.”
“I’m just starting.”
Her pink tongue slicked out, whisking shower drops from her lips. “My turn.”
She grabbed the shampoo bottle and stepped behind him. She traced his Forsaken Mark with a single fingertip until his shoulders trembled. Deeper thoughts became impossible as her hands caressed him. Silky fingers glided down the dip of his spine, curved around his hip, cupped his balls. She squeezed. A hiss sucked in fragrant steam and he thrust, pushing deeper into her palm. Sharp teeth nipped his shoulder as her hands skimmed up his chest, her breasts pressing against his back.
Every pleasure center in his body screamed in anticipation as Lacy turned his torment back on him. Liquid soap filled her palms and she washed everywhere, slowly, completely, until his jaws ached with his restraint. She circled him, nudged his foot and he shifted, widening his stance so she could slide her hand between his thighs. She hefted his balls, rolling each one. One hand fisted as he steadied himself against the shower wall and he encircled her waist, pulling her close, capturing her mouth.
Hot water pounded against the back of his neck as she kissed a line from his wounded cheek to his sternum. She sank lower, licking over his stomach, circling his navel, tracing the Fylfot tattoo below it. He waited, hoping, praying, needing her to take him in her mouth. Both palms circled him. A low grumble of satisfaction rumbled from his chest as she stroked. Twisting her hands, she caressed from the base of his cock to the tip in continual motions. His knuckles went white.
Lacy looked up, locked her eyes with his and licked along the broad head. Before he could draw in a breath, her lips closed around him. Wicked, wet swirls of her tongue curled his toes on the tiled floor. Her head bobbed, taking more of him with every down stroke. One hand curved around the base of his cock, the other worked his balls, squeezing and tugging until his hips moved unconsciously, pressing forward, seeking the sweet heat of her mouth.
She sucked him without pause or mercy until he buried his fingers in her wet hair. “Stop or finish me. Just decide fast.”
Her lips sank further down his shaft. He cupped her head and thrust. White lights popped behind his eyelids as fire flashed along his bones. Some kind of noise burst from his mouth, a growl, a yell, he wasn’t sure. He only knew that his heart bellowed her name as his cock pulsed. Even as his sight returned and his legs relaxed, his heart continued whispering Lacy.
Forsaken didn’t need food or water or rest and for that, he was eternally grateful. His recovery time was mere seconds. Those seconds were filled by lifting her to her feet, pressing her against the wall and his knee parting her thighs. He used the last second to feast on her lips, diving deep into mouth and taking every drop of desire she gave.
The very tip of his cock nudged her wet silk pussy and she stiffened, her hand shoving at his shoulders. “Erik, no. Condom.”
Excuses rapid-fired through his brain. He was clean, incapable of carrying or transmitting diseases. He was so fucking hard he could pound nails. Some level of decency reared its head. The wicked part of him whispered that he could just pull out. It had worked for centuries. But a new voice, one he’d rarely heard, echoed back that he couldn’t risk her like that. He knew himself. Leaving her body at the peak of climax would be damned-near impossible. She deserved better.
He left the shower streaming, cupping her under her ass and striding into the bedroom. Each step was sweet torment as he bumped and knocked against what he desperately craved. He put her down and yanked the nightstand drawer open, tearing the wrapper and dropping it back inside. Lacy had turned to the bed to pull the blanket down. His hand landed on the small of her back.
“Stay right there. Like this.”
Water cascaded from his hair, dripping in chilled rivulets down his chest. His skin was hot enough to make them boil. Rolling the latex down his shaft, he stepped closer. Lacy dropped her shoulders to the bed, lifting her pert, round ass. He wanted that, too, but was too hungry to be slow. Melted woman flowed across his fingers as he parted her pussy. She was ready for him.
Her back arched when he rammed inside her tight, hot heat. For a split second, he cursed his impatience but her moan silenced that. She rocked back, taking all of him, then angled forward, dragging her pussy to his tip. She sank backward as hard as he’d entered her. Whatever control he had shattered.
Gripping her hips, he gave into the primal animal inside. Flesh met flesh in crude, loud smacks tinged with soft whimpers of pleasure and deep growls of delight. Every stroke he gave, she took, squeezed and made it agony for him to draw back. Her name fell from his lips in a chant. He wanted this moment to last forever. A quiver deep inside her tested his restraints and he knew he wouldn’t last long, not near long enough.
The warmed air had dried the beaded water, but a slick of new sweat lined his brow. Leaning over her, he hefted one breast in his palm and rolled the tip, plucking at the nipple until she begged. Bracing himself over her, he traced down her stomach to between her legs. Lacy’s head snapped back, smashing into his shoulder as he circled her clit. A tremble in her thighs warned him.
Nails digging into the comforter, Lacy screamed. It wasn’t a weak mewl or a soft gasp, but a full-throated feminine roar. Hidden muscles clenched tight around his driving shaft, pushing him past the edge. He tucked his head into the curve of her neck and let the climax sweep him away. Wet hot surges rippled through him, blanking his mind of everything except the feel of her skin against his, her sex cradling his, her heartbeat echoing his. Of everything except Lacy.
Reality drifted down like fog. Chest heaving and knees shaking, he pushed her to the bed, following and nuzzling her nape. He couldn’t bear to break the fragile connection just yet. Turning her head to the side, she kissed his bitten cheek and giggled. “Wow.”
Of all the languages he spoke, that one word seemed to fit, and he chuckled with her. “Yeah, wow.”
Lacy shifted, squirmed and rolled until he slipped from inside her. She snuggled up to his side, her eyelids drooping with fatigue. “This can’t be real.”
“Why not?”
“Because it can’t. In the middle of so much death and destruction, I found something good.”
His Awoken heart froze. “What’d you find?”
“You, silly.” A sleepy smile brought a dimple out beside her mouth. “My hero.”
The shower kept running as she succumbed to sleep. Even knowing he should move, shut it off and deal with the condom, he couldn’t make his muscles listen. She considered him a good thi
ng.
The moon was high, filtering through the curtains with a weak light that barely let him see the outline of her face. He brushed a bit of hair away and dropped a light kiss on her temple, not wanting to wake her. He didn’t need the light. Somehow she had imprinted on his heart. He’d been called invincible, powerful and potent. He’d never felt it until Lacy. With her, he could right every wrong in the world.
Lacy called him her hero. He wished it was true.
Erik had a nasty habit of leaving his pockets full of trash. Lacy emptied his jeans, throwing away two crumpled receipts, chewing gum wrappers, and straw papers. The change, strange screws and loose bullets she dumped into a small bowl on the shelf above the dryer. There were so many pockets in his black work pants, she never knew what she’d find. Today, she found a note addressed to her.
Lacy,
I prefer you put your hand in my pocket while I’m wearing the pants.
~Erik
Light, giggly feelings filled her as she scooped up the full basket of folded clothes and headed back to the apartment. The scent of blood hit her just outside of the laundry room. The rhythmic swish-swoosh of the washer underscored curses from down the hall. Pulse throbbing in her throat, Lacy set the basket down and tip-toed toward the second door. Dray’s apartment was one she hadn’t been in yet and Erik told her it was a good thing. Apparently, Dray was a slob.
A grungy sock had snagged on the corner of the door and prevented the latch from engaging. Voices filtered out. “Sela took it better than I thought she would.”
“We were being good little soldiers, helping the Righteous. Damn it, Mad, you’re hitting bone there.”
Nomad sounded distracted. “Whine, whine, whine. I told you to move.”
“The Leech I was dancing with was leading, sue me.” Dray hissed like a cat. “Oh man. I’m going to puke.”
“The blade punctured a vein. You’re bleeding all over the place. We should’ve done this in the medi-room.”
“Lacy might’ve walked in. Just hurry up, I’m getting spacey.” Dray’s pain-laden words rasped rather than sang. “It was worth it, you know, the fighting. I just can’t sit on my ass and do nothing.”
“We’re not doing nothing. We’re trying to find the other Sci—”
“Fucking hell, Mad, those’re my nuts you’re leaning on!”
“Then move them so I can get in here. You’re damn lucky you still have a dick.”
“Bless the Virgin for favors.”
Nomad snorted. “You might want to ask for some help dealing with Sela. She was a little pissed.”
“Little pissed I can deal with. It’s when she get super pissed that my asshole puckers. How much longer?”
“Almost done, then you can sleep.”
Silence buzzed like a bee. Lacy nudged the door open and glanced inside. Her nose wrinkled. It reeked. She kicked a pile of dirty clothes out of the way and pushed the door wider. The counter top was crusted with stains and piled with weapons. Trash, dust and decomposing food filled the living area. In just a fast glance, she automatically counted six firearms and as many knives. A long curved sword had been tossed on the couch.
Dray was more than a slob. He was a pig.
“Hello?”
Omen loped from the bedroom to sit in front of the doorway, guarding those inside. His owner stepped around him. Nomad’s scowl no longer surprised her, but now it was heavily lined with caution. “Need something?”
“Dray’s hurt, right? Do you need some help?”
“No, I got it.” She knew Nomad had his medical license, but he didn’t have the most charming bedside manner. Blood splattered across his skin and his uncharacteristic wordless black tee shirt clung wetly to his stomach. Her eyes fell to his right arm. What kind of doctor had a tattoo of a bloody sickle? “Can’t you give him something for pain?”
His eyes narrowed. “He’s allergic to most pain killers.”
“Oh.” What a dangerous allergy for Dray to have in this profession. “What happened?”
His dark beard twitched as his jaw shifted. “We stumbled into some of your admirers. Dray’s fine and they’re dead.”
So bluntly stated, the deaths rocked Lacy to her bones. Dray got hurt searching for a way to keep her safe. Vomiting noises jerked Nomad’s head around. He didn’t spare a word as he darted back into the bedroom. Her heart ached hearing the noises coming from the other room. This was her fault. There had to be something she could do.
Lacy eyed the dog. If she could get past the guard.
“Good boy, Omen. I just want to check on him. Good boy.”
Deep brown canine eyes locked on her, watched her approach with a hand outstretched. He was huge, his head reaching her bust even while sitting. Her fingers shook but she kept her voice sing-songy.
“Good boy. Such a good doggie. Nice doggie.”
She patted his head, marveling at how soft his fur was. He was a terrifying mutt, but his ears were like velvet. The dog didn’t lessen his vigilant stance, didn’t arch to be petted or nuzzle her fingers but he also didn’t bite. She took that as acceptance and scooted past him.
The room was empty, sounds of a shower and the men talking in low voices leaking through the bathroom door. The actual bedroom was a scene out of a horror movie. Although there was less trash than in the living area, it still looked torn apart. Clothes hung out of dresser drawers and milkshake cups had melted and solidified to the dresser top. Candy wrappers littered every surface. The bed was rumpled, the sheets dingy and bloody. Her stomach twisted. Not all of the blood smears were fresh. Some were so dried they had faded to softness.
Who knew when he’d changed those sheets last? She couldn’t let him lay on them now. He’d probably get an infection. At the very least, he should rest in a clean bed. She tore the pillowcases off first. Two knives and a gun beneath the pillows stopped her. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Did these men never let down their guard? Why did they feel the need for protection at all times? What kind of life had they lived that put that suspicion there?
Gingerly, she put Dray’s weapons on the cluttered dresser top then ripped the sheets from the bed, tossing them out into the outer room. She’d burn them later. The hall linen closet held sheets she’d washed herself, so she grabbed a new king-size set and in minutes had the bed covered. His comforter looked less dirty, but she didn’t want to risk it. A plain green blanket would serve until she could disinfect his set.
The bathroom door opened. Dray swayed on his feet, his dark hair hanging wet and lank against his face. The stark white bandages on his right thigh stood out like snow against his skin. Lacy quickly averted her gaze when she realized the bandage was all he wore. He would have fallen face first into bed, but Nomad turned him and pushed him to his back. “Couple hours is all you’ll need.”
“Feels like a week,” Dray moaned.
“Don’t be a pussy. Get some sleep.”
Lacy tugged the clean sheets over his legs. “Can he take Tylenol at least? Something? He’s got to be in misery.”
“Nope, just let him sleep.” Nomad tapped his leg and Omen trailed him out of the apartment. Neither spared a glance back.
Annoyance pressed her lips tight. Whatever happened to some simple human compassion? She went into the kitchenette and opened the fridge. Leftovers from every conceivable place crammed the shelves, most with green stuff growing on them. But the bottled water was okay. She grabbed one and headed back into Dray’s bedroom.
His eyes were closed and his breathing slower. Pending sleep had softened the lines of pain around his mouth. Muscles that had been bunched were relaxed, sinking into the mattress. She closed the drapes to block out the sun and sat the bottle on the nightstand, smoothing a stray hair away from his cheek.
Dark forest-green eyes snapped open as his hand jammed under the pillow and found no weapon. Instant distrust blazed in his look. Intuition made her whirl. If he needed a dagger like a child needed a security blanket, she wasn’t going to keep i
t from him. She grabbed a knife and shoved it under his pillow. His hands wrapped around hers, squeezing until her fingers dug into the hilt. His suspicion layered with a palatable fear that made her chest ache.
Extracting her fingers, Lacy stroked his cheek. His skin was clammy, but at least there was no fever. “You’re safe, Dray. No one will hurt you. I’ll be right outside the door, shoveling the mess out of the living room. If you need anything, just shout.”
“Why are you doing this?”
His voice was scratchy. Disbelief warred with something bright in his gaze, something she hoped was growing trust. “Because everyone needs someone sometime.”
The tense lines in his forehead softened but his eyes narrowed, judging her words. She fought to keep her smile in place. “I set some water by the bed. I’ll check on you in a few hours, okay?”
He stared for a several breaths. Impulse struck and she gave in, dropping a light kiss to his forehead and straightened the blanket around him. “I’m going to go get some bleach from downstairs. I’ll be right back.”
“Why aren’t you married?” His words were starting to slur.
“Almost was once. Annie needed me more.”
“You like to be needed.”
Her spine straightened. “Something wrong with that?”
“No.” Slowly his eyes closed and he whispered something soft and in a strange language.
“What did that mean?”
“An old Romanian saying — all the power in the world is in a woman’s touch.”
The elevator ride down was short but it gave her time to think. These men were rough and rigid, strong and gruff. They were all hard men, but they weren’t bad men.
Nomad hated everyone and everything, but his dog couldn’t have had a better keeper. His sarcasm never cut too deeply or struck too low. He was just a grouch. Dray was like a teenager, out to have as much fun as he could stomach. His stomach was a teasing point. He had the dietary habits of a twelve-year-old boy. She just overlooked the nights he went out dressed in leather and chains and came home smelling of wax and sex.
