Knight Awakened (Circle of Seven #1)

by Coreene Callahan

  She stroked his biceps, keeping the touch light, coaxing. “What?”

  A tremor rolled though him. “Afina, love, I didn’t intend...shouldn’t have started...”

  Tracing his collarbone with one hand, her other jumped to his jaw. She ran her fingertips over his whiskers, trying to soothe him while she waited for him to explain. It was hard to be patient. She wanted him so much. Needed his touch like a starving child needed food. But he struggled with something so powerful it furrowed his brow and brought regret into his incredible eyes.

  Afina cupped his cheek, not understanding. “What is wrong?”

  “We cannot do this. Not now.” Taking her hand from his face, he turned his mouth into her palm. “We should get dressed and...talk.”

  Oh, goddess. She was losing him. His retreat was more than physical. It was emotional too. He was taking away what she needed most. But she refused to let him go. He belonged to her whether he wanted to or not. It was too late to go back, for either of them.

  She had to make him see it. Had to make him realize how much he meant to her, that she was too far gone to bring her heart back into line. The love had grown with each gentle touch and soft murmur and heated look.

  He cared for her too. The truth was in his eyes and the strong hands that stroked her. It was in the way their mouths met and their gazes held and their hearts beat. And as she looked up into his gorgeous face, she needed to make him believe in their connection. Part of that was having him make love to her...here and now, regardless of the consequences.

  “Later.” Propped up on her elbow, she kissed the hollow at the base of his throat. He inhaled so sharply his chest jumped. She continued her assault, hands stroking over skin and hard muscle. A fine tremor rolled through him as she caressed his nape and whispered, “We’ll talk after, I promise.”

  “Nay.”

  She clenched her teeth on his denial, trying to contain the pain. She couldn’t. No matter how hard she fought, it bubbled up from deep inside, coming through on a whimper.

  As the anguished sound spilled out, he groaned and one of his arms came around her, supporting her weight as he rolled. The lambskin murmured as they touched down on their sides, facing each other. Afraid he would pull away, she clutched his shoulders. But instead of setting her aside, he drew her in, surrounding her body with his larger one.

  Brushing her hair away from her face, he forced her to meet his gaze. “There are things I haven’t told you...things you need to know about me.”

  “I know enough.”

  He shook his head.

  Determination took hold. Afina tipped her chin up, offering her mouth. His gaze betrayed him, straying to her lips. She parted them. He dipped his head. Their mouths met, but instead of the open-mouth kiss she craved, he gave her a gentle one. She pressed forward, flicked him with her tongue, needing him deep inside her. But he kept the caress light, each brush designed to soothe rather than arouse.

  Well, she was way past that. She was hot and wet, so needy she ached from the inside out. And he wasn’t going to relent and let her have her way. She could see it in his eyes, in the controlled way he touched her and the set of his jaw. His restraint pushed her past determined into downright desperate, and she made the only play she had left. She used his concern for her against him.

  “Xavian, my head still hurts and your touch helps...I need you right now.”

  “Afina,” he said, tone soft with regret. He stroked the outside of her thigh, trying to soothe the way for his denial. “It isn’t that I don’t want you...Jesu, I would kill to be inside you, but ’twould be better if—”

  “If you stopped talking and touched me...the way I want you to.”

  “Rahat, you do not fight fair.”

  She hitched her calf over his thigh and pushed into his embrace. “Finish what you started.”

  “I am trying to do right by you. If you will just—”

  “Do you want me to beg?”

  His breath caught as he went statue still beside her. She studied his face, watched his nostrils flare, his eyes narrow, and saw the truth. The thought of her begging excited him...unbearably. It should have shocked her, but it didn’t. Somehow it made perfect sense. Dominant by nature, he liked control, wanted to push her over the edge while she pleaded for him to take her.

  She licked her bottom lip and whispered, “Please.”

  “Nay...” His tone beyond desperate, he rasped, “Don’t.”

  “Please, Xavian.”

  He shoved out of her embrace and backed away, sliding on one knee.

  Deciding it was all or nothing, she turned onto her back and arched. His breathing became rougher when she spread her thighs and ran a fingertip down her throat. Eyes veiled by her lashes, she moved lower, watching him as he watched her hand trail between her breasts. Already hard, her nipples tingled as his gaze swept over her.

  He slid back another foot.

  “Please, touch me.”

  “Jesu.” His throat worked as he swallowed.

  Cupping one breast, her other hand continued its descent. Her heart tumbled as she circled her belly button, touch lazy and light. Watching him watch her, she shifted on the lambskin throw, enticing him one undulation at a time.

  “Don’t do that.” His hands curled into fists, he growled, “Play fair, Afina.”

  “No.” Her thumb brushed over her nipple, and oh...that felt good.

  With a soft moan, she tipped her head back, breaking eye contact with Xavian. She heard him shift closer as her other hand slid into the curls between her thighs. She’d never touched herself before, but had overheard the women she’d tended talk about it. And Xavian had stroked her there once when she’d been beneath him. She wanted to feel him again, the stroke of his fingers and the pleasure and—

  “Sweet Christ.” Xavian’s hand skimmed over her hip.

  Afina bit down on her bottom lip to keep from smiling. She’d won. He’d crumbled, and as he slid between her legs and pushed her knees wider she didn’t resist. Simply opened and waited for his touch, for the magic in his fingertips.

  Except something hot and wet touched her instead.

  Xavian growled. Her eyes flew open on a sharp inhale. He settled, his shoulders between her thighs, his mouth...

  He was...he was...Oh, yes. His tongue was so hot, so insistent and—

  Afina whimpered. He showed no mercy and licked her again. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Goddess, and she thought his fingers were good. His tongue was better, pure delight in every stroke.

  The pressure built and she twisted as he licked deeper, spreading her with his fingers to reach a sensitive spot high on her sex. He flicked her lightly, sweeping around the nubbin, testing her response. With a keening cry, she surged against him. He held her down, one hand flat on her belly as his tongue explored her folds.

  Lost in the bliss, she threw her head back, moving her hips, following his rhythm, wanting more. He didn’t deny her. Settling deep, he sent her higher, knowing just where to touch and how much pressure to apply. But he wasn’t playing fair. He was making her pay for pushing him. The cost was pleasure: mind-blowing, gut-wrenching pleasure that never spilled into release.

  On edge, held high without the promise of rapture, she grabbed fistfuls of his hair, demanding he give her what she needed. “Xavian! I c-can’t...Oh, Gods!”

  He lifted his mouth and set his chin on her curls.

  “No! Don’t...go. Don’t—”

  “Beg...beg me to let you come.” His eyes narrowed on her face, he nipped the inside of her thigh while tracing her folds with a fingertip. Her muscles clenched. He hummed, the sound delicious and wicked and ruthless. “You wanted it this way. Now beg. Make me believe you need me.”

  As far as payback went, it was diabolical. But her pride was already long gone. “Please.”

  “Please, what?”

  “Make me come.”

  He murmured in approval and slid one finger inside her. She moaned and rolled her hips,
happy to have any part of him. He retreated then came back, stretching her with gentle strokes. But gentle wasn’t what she wanted. “More. I need more!”

  “What do you say?”

  “Please...please...yes, please!”

  Without mercy, he thrust a second finger deep as his mouth moved over her again. He worked her hard: suckling, licking, plucking, his hand moving faster. Sweat slick and needy, she followed his rhythm, pleading with him to let her finish. He nipped her gently. She sobbed his name. He sucked harder. Her spine bowed off the furs: nipples tight, legs spread, the fire in her veins more than she could handle. She couldn’t take anymore...she couldn’t—

  “So good...you taste so damn good.”

  His words accompanied one last, lingering lick. Then he latched on, put his mouth right over her nub and sucked until she crested on hard pleasure. Multicolored sparks set off the explosion, devastating her from the inside out.

  She came down slowly: panting, boneless, so full of bliss she couldn’t remember her own name.

  “Afina?”

  Oh, right. That was it.

  Something warm tugged on her nipple. She cracked her lids. Xavian’s tongue lapped her again, suckled a moment then turned to lavish its mate. She arched into the wet heat as his hips settled between her thighs. “Hmm...your turn.”

  He groaned, the sound full of anticipation as he lifted his head from her breast. Afina met his ascent with her mouth, tasting herself as she tangled their tongues together. The kiss was slow and sweet, a gentle fusing as he cupped her bottom and adjusted their fit.

  Afina gave an impatient wiggle. She couldn’t wait to have him inside her. To be picked up and carried away again by his rhythm and the long, hard length of him. She wanted his scent all over her: in her lungs, on her skin, deep inside her.

  Poised to give her all she wanted, Xavian tensed and broke from the kiss. Still as death against her, he looked left, eyes narrowed, head tilted. Gripping the heavy muscle of his shoulders, she started to ask—

  Wood shifted, cracked, then hit the deck.

  Afina flinched as the horrendous sound shattered the quiet around them.

  With a curse, Xavian rolled, reaching under the lambskin above her head. He came away with a dagger. She scrambled as he pivoted into a crouch, placing himself in front of her. White knuckling the blanket, Afina pressed the wool to her chest and held her breath. Her heart paused mid-beat as she peeked around him.

  The boat pitched gently and the awning snapped overhead, the smell of bruised fruit drifting as a shadow separated from the edge of the main mast.

  Unfazed by his nakedness, Xavian stood to face the intruder.

  “I’m looking for a priest,” Henrik said, tone tight, sunlight flashing across the hard planes of his face. “Seen one around here?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Xavian’s gaze narrowed on the rope behind Henrik’s head. Threaded through the edge of the awning, the cord went taut as the faded red canvas sailed high, rolling like a wave overhead. He eyed the end knotted to the main mast, calculating how long it would take him to cut the rope, wrap it around Henrik’s neck, and toss the entire mess—friend and all—overboard.

  To the count of thirty...tops.

  Quick. Clean. Satisfying. Exactly the way he liked a problem solved.

  Henrik eyed the line then gave him a level look. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Leave.”

  He shook his head. “Not going to happen.”

  Rahat, the bastard was asking for it. But then, so was he.

  Xavian ran his hand over the back of his neck. What the hell was he doing? They were on a ship full of men. It didn’t matter that most aboard were scared of him. He never should have touched Afina in such a public place. Unclothing her had been necessary to help her recover. Keeping her that way had not been part of the plan. No matter how much he craved her soft skin against his, he should have shoved her into her trews the moment she woke up and done what he’d wanted to do from the start. Talk.

  But the feel of her against him...the sight of her: back arched, thighs spread, and fingers playing...

  God. Xavian swallowed.

  Seeing her splayed out like that had emptied his head. In truth, there wasn’t much between his ears even now. Hell, all his blood was still below his waist, throbbing with an insistence that made him want to kill something.

  “Goddamn it, Ram,” his friend growled, toeing an apple away from his foot. The fruit rolled, bumping against one of the broken crates between them. “We spoke of this.”

  “And I agreed.”

  “Agreed, my arse. ’Twas a well-executed sidestep, naught more. You have no intention—”

  “Things have changed.”

  “Have they?” Henrik raised a dark brow. “Then you won’t mind waiting for the priest.”

  Christ.

  His friend was like a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let it go, and Xavian couldn’t help but like him all the more for it. Afina deserved better. The best, in fact, and he was naught close to what she needed. He wasn’t gentle or kind. His black heart was buried beneath muscle and bone, stained by death, cheapened by deceit, ruined by what he had done and been and still was. His eyes on the tip of his blade, he tightened his grip on the hilt. The steel was heavy, a silent reminder of the filth beneath his skin. Hell, every time he touched Afina some of that stink rubbed off on her; infected and brought her lower...down to his level.

  He was a selfish bastard.

  To know what he was and still not be able to back away—to do the right thing by her—was a curse he couldn’t deny. The pain of that weakness stung like a son of a bitch.

  “Get gone, H.” His voice sounded raw, wounded without the possibility of recovery. He cleared his throat, tossed the blade onto a sheepskin, and reached for his trews. “Afina needs privacy to dress.”

  “Not a chance.” Henrik crossed his arms over his chest, widening his stance as the boat rolled to starboard then came back to its keel. “The moment I turn my back, you’ll be on her again.”

  Xavian gritted his teeth, knowing it was true. Given half a chance, he’d have her beneath him again in a heartbeat. And she wouldn’t stop him. He knew it with certainty...in the same way she’d known that begging would send him over the edge.

  He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. God, he could still taste her on his tongue and down the back of his throat. She was sweetness and light. And he wanted more. ’Twas more than just two bodies coming together. Aye, the sex was good—best he’d ever had—but the need for connection came along with it. And as much as he wanted to deny it, being with her physically wasn’t enough. It was all or naught. He wanted every single piece of her.

  And that just pissed him off.

  A soft rustle came from behind him and he tensed, shoulders bunching up hard as he thrust his legs into his leathers.

  “Xavian?”

  Jesu, her voice. Edged with passion, the husky whisper touched him like a prayer. The concern in it sucked him dry, made him crave her tongue and the heat of her mouth. Yanking his trews over his arse, Xavian braced himself before glancing at Afina over his shoulder.

  Oh, Christ.

  She looked...delicious. Good enough to eat.

  Again.

  Cheeks flushed with passion, dark hair a decadent tumble around her face, she met his stare head-on. He came unhinged inside and half turned toward her: wanting, needing, yearning. Henrik grumbled. Xavian ignored him, drinking her in, absorbing her scent, reliving the feel of her beneath his hands. Unable to help himself, his gaze dipped to her mouth. He bit back a groan. Her lips were still swollen from his kisses and...God, he’d just been there, had but moments ago tasted that sweetness in all its glory. His shaft jerked upright, straining against unlaced leather.

  Grabbing hold of the ties, he closed the opening with a vicious pull. By way of punishment, it didn’t do much. The bastard behind the lacing leapt forward, happy for the attention. And Afina wasn�
�t helping matters. She was eating him with her eyes, her hazel-green gaze almost glowing as it drifted across his chest then south of his waistband. Her imaginary touch made his balls fist up so tight he started to pant. He breathed through it, taking shots of air as he tied off his lacing. His fingers shook. Xavian frowned at them, inhaled again, and willed his heart to slow. Little by little, the self-discipline he’d spent a lifetime perfecting kicked in, saving Henrik from a swim in the Jiu.

  His focus still fixed on Afina, he exhaled slowly. “Get dressed, draga.”

  “Not with him watching.”

  “Turn around.” Violence rolled like thunder, blanketing him with the need to pummel his friend. The bastard stood little more than six feet away, and Afina was all but naked. It didn’t matter that Henrik was her brother. The territorial need to protect what belonged to him was stronger than reason. “Now.”

  Henrik’s eyes narrowed. “Ram—”

  “Now.” Rolling his shoulders, he cranked his fists in tight, wanting to hit Henrik so badly it took all he had to stay still. “Or you take a swim.”

  “Goddamn it.” With a scowl, Henrik pivoted, giving them his back.

  Xavian exhaled slowly as Afina stepped behind him. He widened his stance, made himself bigger to shield her. It felt good to protect her, to provide what she needed when she needed it. One eye on Henrik, he glanced over his shoulder, the urge to look at her too much to resist.

  She dropped the blanket.

  His breath caught, stalling in his throat like he’d been punched in the chest. She was so damned beautiful—all round curves and lean limbs and soft skin. Xavian snapped his head around. Looking at her was a bad idea. It only intensified the ache and elevated his frustration past what was safe.

  Linen rustled and leather snapped as he listened to her dress. Needing a distraction, he grabbed his tunic, jammed it over his head, and did up the side lacing. His boots came next, and as he stomped the second one on he sheathed his daggers, sliding each one home before reaching for his twin scabbards. With care, he adjusted the harness over his chest, crisscrossing the leather straps, aware of the slip and slide behind him as Afina laced up her boots.