Rage Against the Devil (Wild Beasts Series Book 2)

by T. Birmingham

  He had made his feelings for her clear.

  With his daily actions.

  With his forgiveness.

  With his trust in her regardless of the fact that she’d tried to fucking kill him.

  “I’m so sorry, Nicky,” Eire whispered as she turned around, and laid her head against his naked shoulder. “I’m so so so so so so sorry. I keep fucking up. I keep ruining everything.”

  “Hey,” Nicky said, lifting her chin. “Hey, now, Vanilla, none of that. There is nothing to be sorry for.”

  She raised her eyebrow at him, letting him know he was full of shit. “Nothing to be sorry for, huh wolfman?”

  “Okay, so maybe I should say there’s nothing that you need to keep apologizing for. You weren’t yourself, Eire.” She wanted to argue, but they’d had this argument so often. He truly believed that Eire hadn’t been herself. But she had been. She’d been wrong and evil, and so turned around. But she had been herself. Her worst self.

  “I’m here,” he said taking her hand and placing it on his heart. “I’m whole.” He emphasized this by slowly gliding his thumb against her cheeks and then rubbing his strong and sturdy hand gently along the side of her face, into her hair, massaging her temple and her scalp. Always calming her. Always seeing to her needs. She looked up at Nicky, and she fell into his steady gaze.

  Her emotions, her encounter with her father, and her best friend from childhood being back in her life weren’t the only things that were changing her.

  No, the man in front of her was changing her as well. She’d only known him for a few months, but she knew without a doubt that if her ice hadn’t already melted around them both in a puddle of emotion, what they had together would have eventually burned the freeze away. His touch had been her undoing even before she’d broken. It was why she’d needed to kill him of course when she’d tried to be all badass, cold, motherfucking Fae bitch. Her Swords had understood he was her weakness. Her biggest weakness. He could reach into her like no one else had ever been able to do. He could pull out that emotion, that Stone, that humanity, like no one else could.

  And now, he knew it. He knew it because she couldn’t hide her emotions for shit anymore. Everything was written in her eyes just as it had always been before she’d gone to live with her grandmother. Her Stone was strongest. She’d tried to make her gift of Swords her powerhouse, but before she’d changed at twelve, even then her emotions and her Stone had been her most powerful gift. It was why she’d been able to complete the naming at eight. She shouldn’t have been able to at that age and before the change, but especially to the degree she had. And yet, she had. So completely she had.

  But Nicky touched that part of her so thoroughly, and he brought out the damaged, broken, recovering gift that had been so severely neglected. She’d used it in spurts when her emotion was heightened, but she was struggling with using it on call now, except with Nicky.

  With Nicky, her colors swirled around her like a fucking rainbow, and he’d breathe her in and whisper her nickname, “Vanilla,” like it was the best taste in the world to be in her power. Except, she didn’t want him to only love her power, her goodness, her colors. She wanted him to love her Darkness too, because her Swords were not disappearing. They were still there. Her Darkness was still there. She was still Other, and he couldn’t pretend she was all goodness and Light and something resembling Clan.

  All these emotions swirling around inside of her, and she knew one thing. She was Stone and Swords, just as she’d always been. She was Light. She was Dark. And no, she would never embrace her ice again, but she was still Fae. She was still Other. And she worried that Nicky wouldn’t be able to accept that, as much as her emotion had brought her swirling colors and gifts of Stone to the fore, she was still Darkness.

  She’d changed in blood and death when she was twelve. And she wasn’t sure he got the significance of what it meant to be Other, to be Darkness. He would soon, though. When they found her father and grandmother, he would see. Of course, if the power she thought was needed was correct, he would only know that truth for long enough to say goodbye to her.

  She pulled down his palm and kissed it lightly, stopping the gentle, comforting massage.

  “Thanks, wolf,” she breathed out, giving him a reassuring smile, and disengaging slowly from his embrace.

  She stepped back, smiled at her wolf, winked, and ran back toward their yurt.

  She’d call it theirs for now, and stop chastising herself. It was only in her head.

  She could pretend for a bit.

  She could be his for just a little while longer.

  She reached the yurt, but cringed inwardly when she realized what she needed to get ready for.

  Fuck. Goddamned Girls’ Night.

  Her wolf’s presence at her side brought the comfort again, and a part of her hated that they were becoming so dependent on one another recently. Or that she was becoming so dependent on him because what the hell did she have to offer? What was she bringing to this relationship? Nothing, really. Jesus.

  Down. Down. Down.

  She was down the rabbit hole again.

  Up.

  Down.

  Up.

  Down.

  Up.

  Down.

  Her emotions were a fucking pendulum, and she despised the ever-churning changes as much as she craved their presence. Because their presence meant she was feeling. Their presence meant she was closer to recovering her Stone.

  And if she was closer to recovering her true gift of Stone, of honing and smoothing out that gift, she was closer to having the home, the happiness, and the healing gifts she needed.

  If you survive, she reminded herself.

  The deaths of Lochlan and Nessa were still important. Those deaths were still the ultimate goal.

  She would have loved to admit that her emotions were totally pure, totally good, but they weren’t. Her father and grandmother brought out her fear, her anger, her frustration like no other, and as much as their deaths had been earned so many times over in the eyes of justice, their deaths would also fulfill a vindictive part of Eire’s mind and soul. Their deaths would satisfy and feed her Darkness, and she was okay with that.

  Eire was not just rainbows and joy.

  Her Stone and her Swords required payment.

  They required vindication.

  They required that she hone and polish herself into a different sort of weapon, one less poisonous and toxic and caged, yes. But a weapon which was would also be more than just anger and fear. And yet, anger and fear would be there.

  Because Eire Donovan was Other. She was the Darkness.

  And even the brightest sun could not hide the Darkness.

  The Darkness was always present. Not evil, although the Clans would argue that the opposite of Light was evil. They just didn’t understand that a coin with two sides was not evil on one side and good on the other. No. A coin had two sides, because two sides was its nature. Every creature had Darkness and Light.

  Something the Clans had forgotten long ago, but of which Eire would remind them.

  She stopped to stretch her muscles before entering the yurt, Nicky on her heels.

  “You’re thinking, Eire,” Nicky said with a slight smirk as she pulled her t-shirt over her head and walked into her room to gather fresh clothes. She chose a lime green Breaking Benjamin shirt that had been a gift from Carrie, her ripped and frayed stonewash jeans and her black combat boots. Besides less black, her wardrobe hadn’t changed much. She still needed to be ready for a fight at any time.

  “Is that a crime now, Nicky?” Eire asked.

  “Not a crime, Vanilla,” Nicky said from her bedroom doorway. “Just dangerous in your case.” He paused and waited for her to look his way. She knew he was waiting because he did this all the time. Hell, she did the same. Paused. Waited for him to listen because she knew he’d really listen to her. And she’d do the same for him. She’d really listen because that’s what they did. They supported
each other. Scary. As. Fuck.

  Breathe, Eire. Just breathe.

  She met his strong gaze and he gave her that crooked smile that she loved. It was playful and very Nicky, although she knew he’d changed just as much as her recently, and he’d have denied his playful side a few months ago. She wasn’t the only reason for the change. Nicky and Ginny and even Alexia had started those changes, but she liked to think she’d helped.

  And hopefully not just because he’d quite literally died at her hands, at least for a bit. He’d shared his experience. He’d left some pieces out.

  She wasn’t naïve; she was just more emotional.

  “I’m here for you, Eire.” He didn’t move toward her. His posture didn’t change. He just leaned against her doorway, his strong, capable form filling the small space. So powerful. So much the warrior that her breath caught. She tried to avoid those feelings, but every once in awhile, they crept up. She knew she shouldn’t push them down, but those emotions she felt with Nicky were stronger than anything. Stronger than her desire for the return of her gift of Stone. Stronger than her need for vindication. And she still couldn’t afford to let everything in.

  Shit. She still had walls. She let her knives come out slightly, let the blood from the small cuts she made calm her. If she survived, she’d let her walls down when her grandmother and father were dead. It wasn’t wrong. Hiding these emotions were okay, right?

  “Walls,” he said. “Still walls.” He shook his head, and rather than a look of anger or sadness, he just smiled. “They’ll come down, Vanilla,” he said confidently as she moved past him and into the living room.

  “You may not like me when they do,” she said, and then she put her hand over her mouth and turned around quickly to face him. Yeah, fuck. She shared too much around these people.

  His laugh resounded throughout the open living room, and he walked slowly toward her. Hell, not walked. Prowled. Like a wolf. Like his wolf. Because he was his wolf more than any creature she’d ever met. She knew why now, of course.

  She knew his connection to the Fae, to Titania. He’d shared it like it was part myth, but it fit with her Other history lessons so much, she knew it was truth.

  He stopped in front of her, and she patted his naked chest without looking at him, hoping to move quickly past him and into the bathroom. The bathroom with the five-minute shower. She sighed, but Nicky ignored the sound if he heard it.

  He grabbed her hand and put it against his heartbeat. She looked up at him, startled, but used to the movement. He liked her hand on his heart. Her life was full of irony. She’d almost killed him with that very hand.

  But this time was different. He held her hand to his heart and he leaned forward slowly as she brought her other hand to his chest as well, dropping the clothes she’d been holding onto.

  He didn’t give her a chance to move away, and hell, but she didn’t want to.

  His eyes asked the question for a millisecond before he took, and fuck but did she give.

  Their lips clashed, her on her tiptoes, him leaning into her, all power, all beast, and she ate and nipped and worshipped at his lips like he was her everything, like he could cure her. Like he was her sustenance. He fisted her hair and tilted her head to the side for better access, and she not only allowed the movement, she also grabbed at his hair as well.

  Nicky took one of her hands, interlocking his fingers with hers, and touching his lips to hers a little more gently before niblling at her chin and then making his way back to her open, panting mouth. His other hand made sudden pulls at her hair, and she felt the insistent sting of the pull, but it didn’t hurt in the traditional sense.

  She was Fae. She loved the sting. She loved the little fire the touch ignited, and her Stone and Swords side reacted. She held her Fae side back a bit, but she didn’t hold anything else back. He picked her up, allowing her legs to wrap securely around his hips and he brought her to the large couch in the living room, laying her down, and quickly covering her body.

  She smelled the woods on him, the strength of the mountains in his very blood as his pine and caramel scent surrounded her in absolute bliss. He quickly pulled her sports bra over her head and looked down at her, dragging his eyes down her form. No supernatural change in their coloring. The only change was the expanding of his pupils as he experienced the passion she knew so deeply because she also was on fire for the man above her.

  “Fuck, Nicky,” Eire said, her voice hoarse and low and so damn full of sex that she smiled. The smile turned into a biting of her lip when his teeth nipped at her neck. He made his way, nips and licks and various degrees of pressure down her chest until he was finally at her breasts.

  The first tug at one of her nipples had her panting heavily and moaning long and loud, and praise the gods but she didn’t give two fucks. They were in their yurt, and she had screamed and cried and let everything out here this past month and a half. Now, she was at long last getting her wolfman.

  Nicky dragged the hand he had interlocked with hers above her head and he reached for the other she had tangled in his hair, a hand that was holding on for dear life, trying to keep him to her chest.

  He chuckled at the hold, but she let him remove it, and he slowly raised that hand as well, so that both of her hands were above her head.

  She was stretched out underneath him, the tension that had built up in her body challenged by the movement. He looked at her as he let his head again fall to her chest, adjusting his position while he sucked and licked and loved at her one breasts.

  She felt the delicious pull of his one hand holding her own hands above her head. Trapped. But not caged. Never caged when her wolf was with her. He set her free.

  He flicked. He pulled. He rendered her incapable of breath while he played her body like a finely tuned instrument. And shit, but did they make music. Her moans and pants. His grunts and nipping noises.

  Her legs wrapped around him and she realized he was still naked. Always the nudist, her wolfman.

  She could feel him, hard, heavy, and so ready, and she was ready too. God, she was ready. His eyes met hers as he nibbled further down her body, letting go of her hands, hands that automatically went to his hair. She was so hungry for him, she’d thought she’d be rougher, but Jesus, they were hot and cold still. Always would be. They complemented each other beautifully, exquisitely.

  His nibbles moved further south and her legs opened up to him. He nipped at her hip bone, right below where she’d recently gained some weight from all the Ben and Jerry’s at Girls’ Night, but also right above the waistband of her pants. She nodded her head yes, still biting her lip, still wanting everything this man had to offer. She’d take it all. If he was offering his all, she’d give him her all as well. She’d give her wolfman everything, no matter the terror that underlied her current acceptance.

  Her hands in his hair moved away as he knelt above her. She grabbed onto the couch cushions, trying to hold something, anything. He pulled her pants down slowly, followed by her underwear, and she was suddenly bared to her wolfman. Their naked bodies touching. Perfection. She let out a sigh of peace…and still his gaze never left her, which just turned her the fuck on. He watched her like he loved her, and she would let that thought stay this time. She’d let herself believe he loved her for her whole self, because she loved him for his whole self. Yes, loved. She loved him.

  Her eyes became blurry with her tears and Nicky stopped his movements to lift her up. She wrapped her legs around him as they both sat. Her arms went around his shoulders and in this position, she could almost look directly into his eyes. She nipped at his lips in the same way he had nipped at her, and she felt his erection move more fully toward her core, rub against her clit, seeking, searching for the connection that her mind, her heart, and her soul had already found with her wolfman on occasion. Physical need clawed at her, and she tasted his blood. She’d bitten a little too hard.

  “My Vanilla Fae,” Nicky said, a bit of laughter in his tone, and she let
the title spear her heart while she too smiled. She loved that for this moment at least, he could accept all the parts of her.

  One of his hands reached between their bodies while she continued sucking at his lips. God, she loved the taste of him. She’d never had Clan blood. She always taken human blood, but damnit, wolfman’s blood tasted like he smelled. Like Christmas trees and caramel syrup. She sucked at his lips, drinking him up, absorbing his beautiful soul, his happiness, his Light in a pure and wonderful way. She shared in the moment with him, the way she knew her gift was always meant to be used.

  His hand moved down her ribs, over her belly, and finally, he touched her. Touched her and the world almost exploded. His hand was so powerful, so magnificent, so warm, so Nicky that she cried out even as his fingers sought the place she too wanted him to find. Fuck, his hand when it touched her clit and then her opening was like the air she clung to now, since breath and air felt in such short supply with her panic attacks.

  His touch was absolutely. Fucking. Everything.

  The tears that had formed in her eyes earlier finally fell, and Nicky broke the kiss to lick them from her cheeks.

  Their eyes met, his hand still touching her, cupping her, lost in her body. So close. She’d never been so close to another being, and still, she wanted to be closer to him. She wanted to crawl inside of him and never let the world intrude on them ever again. That couldn’t happen, but Eire would give her wolf what she could while she was still here to offer this to him.

  She took his face in her hands and felt the surety of his hand as his fingers moved in and out of her, touching her clit, opening her up further, taking his time, letting her get used to him.

  “I’m ready, wolfman,” she said and his eyes searched hers. She knew her gaze was bright green, like the sun falling on the hills of Ireland for which she was truly named. Ireland. Homeland. Where the stories of the Fae were rich, despite the Fae’s presence throughout the world.