by Anne Marsh
Possessively, Brends pushed his thick cock deeper. Intoxicated with the feel of her, he set a demanding rhythm, but her hips were already rising and falling to meet his. When he came, he felt as though he were flying. Flying apart as he desperately poured himself into her. Desperate for her.
The dark marks burned into life around his wrists. A sexy slide, like invisible fingers stroking along the maddened length of his cock. It must have been the same for his new bonded. She shrieked, sliding upward desperately to meet his next thrust. Connected. Came for him in mindless climax, crying out his name.
Sixteen
Mischka checked her watch as Brends hustled her out the door of her flat and down to the waiting cars. Less than twelve hours after she’d sold her soul and he snapped his fingers as if she were a dog trained to heel.
He can damn well rethink his attitude.
After all, it wasn’t as if he’d produced her cousin yet. So he had a whole lot of work cut out for him, and she didn’t see any need to roll over and play dead until he’d kept his end of the bargain.
This infernal attraction she felt was just sex, nothing more. It didn’t mean anything that she couldn’t stop looking at him.
Liar.
Last night, she’d broken every rule in the book and then some—and she’d loved it.
The car parked by her curb was a sleek black SUV that screamed money. He clearly didn’t give a damn about making any ecological statement, although since he was, from what she’d heard, near-immortal, maybe he should have. After all, he’d still be around when her kind finished punching a hole in the ozone layer.
So what if she’d foolishly expected things to be different the morning after the hottest sex of her life? She could sense the beast in him through that strange, tenuous mental connection that had snapped into place with their bond. The bond that she was still not comfortable with. Although that trickle of emotions made their new relationship seem less soulless, less opportunistic, she had to admit to feeling overwhelmed. The male stalking beside her seemed suddenly unfamiliar. Overwhelmingly sensual. And very, very alien. She was in over her head here and they both knew it. She’d never gone in for casual sex, and in the end, there’d been nothing casual at all about the night she’d spent in Brends’s arms. They’d made a connection she’d felt to the bottom of her soul. So where did they go from here? After all was said and done, she didn’t know if Brends even had a soul.
Certainly, Brends had old-school, elegant manners when he didn’t have her backed against a wall, waging an erotic assault on her nerve endings. Setting her overnight bag down on the sidewalk, he opened the car door for her with a casual snap of his wrist.
“Get in,” he said tightly. “We’ve got a long way to go.” He glanced up at the dusky sky. “I want to get as far as possible before it’s really dark.”
Kicking him would probably dent her toes. It certainly wouldn’t teach him any lessons in sensitivity. She slid into the car, the expensive upholstery giving softly beneath her weight. No one could accuse her fallen angel of slumming. Clearly, he’d decided that if he had to live wingless, he’d compensate in other ways.
She wanted information, so she put a hand out, preventing him from shutting the door. Chivalry could take a backseat to her need for information. “You know where we’re going? You know where Pell went?”
“Yeah.” He nodded curtly, but didn’t offer any details. Prying information out of him was downright impossible, she thought, watching him stride around the car to the driver’s side.
It was definitely going to be a long drive.
Plenty of time to decide whether Brends was truly a soulless monster—or whether she could take the chance of a lifetime and give him her heart.
Too damn bad if Mischka had buyer’s remorse.
It wasn’t as if Brends had really expected her to choose him over them, the wholesome, middle-aged couple watching disapprovingly as he loaded Mischka’s suitcase into the SUV and got ready to drive off with a piece of their family.
He’d pay fair and square for whatever he took—and what he wanted, more than ever, was the damned rogue. The wings. The wings had Michael written all over them. And he’d dedicated his near-immortal life span to figuring out how take down Michael. The rogue might be just the in he needed.
He wasn’t letting that lead go. He couldn’t. So he’d do whatever it took, up to and including strong-arming his bond mate into leaving M City with him.
What he needed was to take off with Mischka clearly in his keeping, make enough of a spectacle to draw the attention of the rogue. Then, if he led, the rogue would follow. That would get him out of city and away from the human civilians Zer didn’t want harmed.
This didn’t have to be lose-lose. Mischka would learn to take orders, sure, but he was going to keep her safe, no matter what. Even if she was bait, she was still important. She’d bring Hushai’s killer to him.
He’d keep her safe.
He moved around the car and slid in. He couldn’t stand not to be near her. The tinted windows would shield them.
He slid across the seat and pulled her to him. He should have warned her more, but he was selfish, and even now his inner beast was jealous, because even after last night, he didn’t own her. He didn’t belong in the too-pristine sanctuary of Mischka’s flat. Didn’t fit in.
So he’d take what he could.
Sliding his lips over the vulnerable skin of her jaw, he tasted her, every deliberate stroke an intimate, public possession. Dominating her with the sensual promise in the hot tease of his tongue along that stubborn curve.
She wouldn’t give him anything. Not here. So he’d coax. Make her want.
Wrapping a hand around the nape of her neck, he pulled her closer.
“Brends, not—” He didn’t want to hear all the reasons for them to move apart. For him to lose the sweet heat of her body pressed up against his. So he angled his head down and her chin up. Tightened his fingers on her jaw, nudging her mouth open so that his tongue could sweep inside.
He needed that contact.
Needed more.
Her hands sliding up his arms were deliciously warm and reassuringly solid, anchoring him in this world. Those small hands urged him closer, and he knew he was this close to losing himself in her.
God, she tasted good.
So who was holding whom here? He fisted his hand in her ponytail, using the leverage to angle her head backward for his deeper kiss. His tongue stroked the roof of her mouth, tangling against her tongue. Stroking deeper.
His kiss was a mark of possession and they both knew it.
He pulled the fabric of her shirt away from her skin. She hid herself beneath all these layers.
She inhaled. Sharply. “Don’t,” she whispered, pulling back. “Not here.”
Yes. Here. He wasn’t going to let her hide, not now. Not ever. Part of him wanted to take her here, lay her bare, but he’d lose her if he did that now.
She wasn’t ready for those games and he’d promised only pleasure.
“Open up.” His thumb nudged her mouth possessively, sliding over the full lower lip he’d kissed last night. God, he loved the taste of her.
“I’m not in the mood to play games, Brends.” Her eyes glared at him. “I want to find my cousin. Now.”
Her anger at his orders wasn’t unexpected. And there was the sensual thrill of mastering her, of showing her the delicious pleasure submitting could bring. Caressing the luscious curve of her bottom lip with his thumb, he slid inside the wet heat of her mouth.
“Let me in,” he demanded, not taking his eyes from hers.
She eyed him speculatively and jerked her chin out of his grasp. “Hands off.”
“Hands on,” he growled, slapping his hands around her waist and hauling her into his lap. The soft heat of her body coming into full body contact with his groin made him nearly come on the spot.
He ignored the foot that came down—hard—on his. He didn’t wear leather shitkickers for
nothing.
“I want you wet,” he heard himself growl.
Her head tipped backward, hitting his shoulder and exposing the delicious column of her throat. He slid one finger down the pale line of skin. And she felt just as soft—just as impossibly sweet—as she had last night.
“We’re not doing this here,” she said, swatting him away.
“What? Afraid the neighbors will disapprove? Can’t stand the thought of letting one of us touch you, taste you?”
“It has nothing to do with what you are.”
He didn’t believe her for a second. “I get it, babe. In the grand scheme of things, you’re a Renoir and I’m sidewalk art. Humor me here.”
She looked shocked, and he couldn’t tell whether it was because he wanted to get it on in the car with others around or because he’d referred to Renoir. Really, she wasn’t the only one with an education, even if their tastes did differ.
“That’s not how I think of you. Of us.”
“Do tell,” he drawled, settling back in the seat.
“We’re coming from two completely different places, Brends, and we both need to acknowledge it.”
A bit self-helpish for him, but still true. “Baby, you have no idea.”
“Then tell me,” she snapped. “Don’t leave me sitting here in the dark.”
“Fine,” he growled. “You want to know what I think of when I look at you? I’ll tell you. I’d rather you told me, however, what thoughts are running through that luscious little head of yours when you stare at me and whine that I don’t like you, don’t like your kind. Don’t you presume, princess,” making the endearment into the obscenity he felt, “to do my thinking for me. You don’t like Goblins. Clearly, you believe we’re in the wrong. ‘Condemned forever,’” he added mockingly, “and all that jazz. Fine. You’re probably entitled to your narrow-minded little views, and frankly, I’m not so interested that I’ll bother trying to convince you otherwise. Last night, I was inside you in so many ways, baby. I saw what you’re hiding.”
“Don’t get in my way,” she said tightly. “And stay out of my head.”
“Try to stop me. You can’t, you know. Besides, you liked it.” He bent his head toward her again.
“We need to find Pell,” she snapped. “This is my business, my family, and I’m in charge here.”
“No.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. “No, you’re not in charge. You came to the heart of the Goblin empire, to my club. This is my damn town. My brothers will eat you alive for breakfast, and that’s if the rogue doesn’t take you down first. You don’t know the first thing about how my city really works and you can’t stay alive long enough to learn. Not without me.”
She shook her head, then darted in to nip at his lip. Her defiance tasted as good as her submission had the previous night.
“You do what I say, when I say, dushka.”
They were fighting a war; she just didn’t know it yet. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—lose the delicious tease of her soul, the fiery intelligence, that stubborn streak that had her hung up on the rules. She needed a bad boy and she needed him.
She was lonely, because being the good daughter was lonely.
So she wanted to take his arrogance down a peg. He’d known she was strong. Independent. She never would be—wouldn’t want to be—the little woman. And he didn’t want that for her either, because then she wouldn’t be who she was anymore. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to stop pushing her out of her comfort zone. He wanted that intimacy; she wanted calm, cool discipline. She was collected, and both the beast and the man wanted to undo her mental buttons and get inside her head.
So, fine. He’d play along. For now…
He moved to the driver’s seat and peeled away from the curb. As they left M City behind them, the too-tall buildings disappearing swiftly into their past, he tossed her the slim volume he’d found in her bedside table.
He’d give her food for thought, damned if he wouldn’t.
“I brought your book.” He’d grabbed it again from her nightstand when he was inside her flat earlier. A primal pleasure flared in him. She’d reread it after he returned it to her the first time. She’d chosen to keep his “bookmark” at page 53.
“My book?” She blushed.
“Yeah. Marked some more spots as well.” He’d bet she’d look before long. That delicious curiosity of hers wouldn’t let her hold out. She’d want to see what he’d fantasized about. What he was offering. “Page fifty-three.”
Her fingers fanned tentatively over the flotilla of Post-its he’d stolen from her desk. “Among others.” Yeah, so he was full of fantasies when it came to the woman sitting next to him, and none of them lived up to the reality of the flesh-and-blood woman. She was better. Simply, perfectly, Mischka. Flaws and all. He frowned as she slid the volume into her bag.
He’d promised he’d make her fantasies come true.
Damn it, he was going to keep his promises. Every last promise, even if he was no longer sure he wanted to. When he’d promised to let her go when they found Pell, he hadn’t considered that maybe he wouldn’t have had enough of her.
The taste of her was addictive.
And she was going to be pissed as hell at him. Maybe he should have told her the truth about Dathan and Pell, that he knew where they were all along. Not telling was wrong. He recognized that. Maybe, on some level, he’d always recognized that. It didn’t erase the bond between them, but he’d cut himself off from something—someone—important when he lied to her.
In her book, that was going to make him a bastard of epic proportions. He didn’t like the way that made him feel. He forced his hands to relax on the steering wheel, to keep the SUV moving steadily forward. Feelings shouldn’t matter to him.
Shouldn’t.
But he was afraid that they did. Well, hell. It was far too late in the day for him to repent. And there was only one way to his female that had worked so far.
So he’d seduce her. Again.
Beside him, she shifted restlessly. “Brends…” Here it came. She wanted to get right to work, wanted to take the bit between her teeth.
And he wasn’t going to let her.
“You got what you wanted. Now it’s my turn.” Yeah. She was going to push him right back.
“Did I?” He dissected her face ruthlessly. “Did I get what I wanted, baby?”
“One soul.” Even he could hear the slightly bitter note in her voice. “Signed, sealed and delivered.”
“Right,” he said. “About that.”
“You can’t change the rules now.” Panic made her deliciously breathless.
“I’m not changing them. I’m clarifying them. Now that you’re part of my world, you need to understand what that means.”
She eyed him cautiously. Wise female. “I thought you explained pretty clearly last night.”
No. He’d explained partially. Maybe it would be good to hammer out the rules of their relationship. Then she’d understand where they stood and what her part was going to be.
Yeah, that would work.
“You’re my bond mate.”
“I was there last night.”
“That means that I keep you safe. No matter what. Even from yourself. I’m in charge.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He distinctly heard her mutter something about alpha-male crap under her breath.
“You paid my price. I’m giving you what you want, but I decide when and how. Not you.”
“This is a partnership, Brends.”
“This is sex,” he countered, partly just to rile her up. Hell, he knew this wasn’t the right time to be blunt. She hadn’t accepted what they’d done. How she’d felt. Not really. “You wanted hot, luscious, no-holds-barred sex. You wanted a chance to be the bad girl. You wanted me for you, Mischka. Not for Pell.”
Her body told him more than words. She’d deliberately wrapped herself in feminine armor: no-nonsense blue jeans, a thick sweater. Flat-heeled
boots. Nothing too out of the ordinary and nothing intended to seduce. Yeah, she’d spared him the bare-skin, leather-wrapped orgy of G2’s, and it made him hotter than he’d ever been. He wouldn’t go back to what he’d had before.
Which was precisely nothing. Hell, you didn’t have to be a neurosurgeon to know that the best damned thing to happen to him in an eternity was tapping her foot as she leveled a pissed-off glare at him.
Too bad her anger just made him hotter, because it meant he’d got under her skin.
That he mattered.
“You’re the tempter in this picture,” she accused.
No. She had seduced him. With that warmth, the life of that soul, that piece of her that she kept hidden away. He shrugged nonchalantly, because he couldn’t possibly tell her how important this was to him. Hell, he didn’t understand it himself. “If the bond makes the sex easier for you, I’m good with that. You do what you need to do. But I’m here for you. To give you what you want.”
If she wanted Pell, she’d get Pell. He’d see to it. Hell, he’d sworn it, but it was more than that. It was as if there were emotional threads binding his soul tighter and tighter to hers. For the first time since he’d fallen, he didn’t mind. Didn’t want to rage against the injustice of it all or move the chess pieces in his complicated game of revenge.
He was goddamned peaceful. She’d got to him, done something to him.
So he’d seduce her, if that was what it took to hang on to this feeling. He wasn’t letting her go. He couldn’t.
This was right.
She’d learn to live with him because she had to. That thought had a heated smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. How far could he push her today? “If I were you”—he raised her bare hand to his mouth so his tongue could taste the sweet skin of her knuckles—“I’d worry that I’d overpaid.”
He let the silence fill the SUV until he couldn’t resist any longer, and he looked over at his companion again. She had fallen asleep as if their conversation hadn’t registered more than a passing blip on her emotional radar. Her breath caught softly, tendrils of dream-thoughts slipping from her to him. She relaxed when she slept. The elegant discipline of her posture vanished completely. She’d curled up in a ball and gone to sleep.
