Midnight Ash (A Blushing Death Novel)

by Sabol, Suzanne M.

  It didn’t matter what Patrick said; I wasn’t going anywhere. I clenched my jaw tight and felt my lips disappear in a thin line of determination. I let him feel my certainty, radiating my grit through our empathic connection. It rolled off me and over his skin like a forest fire eating up all the oxygen, prickling each hair on his body as my emotion climbed up his long, lean frame and sunk into him.

  “None of this is because of you,” he whispered. His eyes and face softened and his body relaxed as he gave me the look I only got when we were alone. His eyes burned with hunger and intimacy as his delicious lips curled up into a roguish smirk that curled my toes and made me warm all over. That look made me feel wanted . . . loved, but we never talked about that.

  “The hell it isn’t,” Alex snorted. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s better now that you’re in charge but let’s not kid ourselves. The situation is what it is because of her, who she is and because of you. Let’s at least be honest.” Alex sat back in the couch, sliding her arm up over the back of the soft leather couch.

  “Placing blame won’t solve our situation,” Patrick snarled.

  I felt Patrick’s patience wearing thin in the rise of my blood pressure and the grinding of his jaw. Alex pushed the lines of familiarity, especially in front of someone else. He let her get away with more in private but he wouldn’t let her defy him. She pushed dangerously close to that line.

  “Pat, the bottom line is if they send the Takeda or there’s an inquisition, she won’t survive. You didn’t live through the last inquisition. You have no idea what it’s like. Trust me, neither of us wants that.”

  “Why wouldn’t I survive either scenario?” I asked.

  “The Takeda will kill you before you even have a chance to pull your weapon,” Alex said with finality. “They’re fast. Well trained. Deadly.”

  Sometimes I hated being mortal in a room filled with beings that weren’t. It just reminded me on a daily basis of how close to death I lived. Not a pretty thought when you are trying to ignore it.

  “Alex, most likely none of us would survive an inquisition. Let us put this whole situation into some perspective, please,” Patrick snapped. He circled around his desk and I couldn’t help but admire the view. He sat down in the chair with an easy grace that set him apart from every human I’d ever seen. We clunky mortals didn’t move like that.

  He is not us, but he is ours, that voice whispered in my mind and I couldn’t agree more.

  “There’s no way out of this? Are you saying no matter what happens, we’re all dead?” I asked, agitated. I refused to believe I had no say in the matter.

  Patrick’s dark unreadable eyes darted to Alex.

  “No,” Alex soothed, sitting beside me. She didn’t touch me but her hand hesitated between us as if she wanted to. “There’s no way out for us,” she iterated, enunciating each word. “But you, you could walk away and pretend we never existed. You could be safe.” Alex’s voice was melodic and soothing. There was a part of me that wanted to believe her and just walk away.

  I shook the soft, compliant feeling off as she tried to hypnotize me into doing what she wanted. That wasn’t going to happen, not now, not ever.

  Sonovabitch!

  Rage rushed through my body like a wildfire, burning off the effects of her vampiric powers and clearing my mind with a cleansing anger. She knew her mind tricks didn’t work on me. She must have wanted me to go badly enough to chance using them.

  “She’s not going anywhere, Alex, so we need to come up with an alternate plan,” Patrick said with amusement tinkling his voice. He didn’t laugh enough.

  Alex stood, storming to the door in quick even strides. She glared down at me, her expression blank as she shook her head.

  As the door closed behind her, Patrick said to himself, “She’ll come up with something, she always does.”

  Chapter 3

  I rounded the desk, sashaying my hips just a little to catch his attention. I loved the way his eyes followed me. I leaned up against the hard oak, our legs a breath from touching.

  “How bad is it?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest as I peered down into his dark, intelligent eyes. He yanked me down into his lap, wrapping his arms around me in a tight grasp that felt too much like desperation. I shook that feeling off and reveled in the safe, happy feeling I always had in his arms. Like I finally belonged.

  He’s ours. We will protect him, purred happily through my mind.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you if I can help it,” he said into my hair, his breath cool against my ear. He squeezed me just a bit tighter as if to reassure himself instead of me.

  “I don’t want you to do anything dangerous,” I bit out, backing away from him. I wanted to see his eyes and make him understand, I meant what I said. Resignation filled his expression. “Do you understand?” I asked. He had people that depended on him and someone that loved him. He couldn’t be reckless.

  “I won’t let them touch you,” he growled, soft, dangerous, threatening. He ran a single finger down the line of my neck and over my shoulder where his mark, two translucent puncture scars, was just barely visible on my pale skin. My skin tingled under his fingers and burned for his touch like he’d ignited a fire in my belly. My breasts grew heavy with need and my nipples puckered into rock hard nubs begging to be suckled.

  He jumped to his feet without warning and rested my ass on the edge of the desk. My legs dangled from the edge, my feet almost touching the floor. Patrick pressed his body between my thighs, then clasped my face in his hands.

  I couldn’t look away from the intensity of his gaze or miss the sincerity in his expression.

  “I sometimes forget how delicate you are,” he breathed.

  I bit my lower lip in unspent frustration. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted his body pressed up against mine, his fingers stroking me and his cock buried deep inside my body. I needed him to show me how much he wanted me.

  I panted, waiting for him to kiss me. He was so close. His breath brushed across my lips in a soft caress of cold fire. His rock-hard erection pressed against the inside of my thigh, teasing me. Desire pulsed through his fingertips into my much warmer skin with each small caress.

  He hesitated, but I wasn’t in the mood to let anything hold him back. I needed to feel alive and feel how much he needed me. I needed to know that the risk was worth it. I was more afraid than I wanted to admit. I needed to believe that he loved me with the same desperation that I loved him.

  I closed the distance between us, clutching the shoulders of his shirt in my fists. He hesitated for a moment before crushing his lips down on mine. I slid my tongue between his teeth, threading my fingers through his hair and yanking his head back to consume him whole. I ran my tongue up his neck and over his Adam’s apple in a long, languorous stroke. I tasted the salt of his skin and reveled in the feeling of soft spun silk.

  He jerked my T-shirt up over my head and flung it across the room. I skimmed my fingers over his still-clothed chest, delighting in the feel of every muscle and definition as I grazed his body. He drove me back onto the desk, running his cool hands over my breasts, cupping them and flicking his thumbs across the sensitive tips of my puckered nipples still tucked beneath the lace of my bra. Patrick continued his slow caress of me, gliding his fingers slow and focused, down the length of my body. He slipped his fingers underneath the waist of my jeans, gripping the rough fabric in his hand, and tugged on the waist of my jeans with a quick flick of his wrist. The seams ripped and tore as he yanked the denim from me, dropping the damaged garment in a pile on the floor.

  I was left in the purple lace bra, matching panties, and black high heels. I wrapped my legs around his waist and intertwined my ankles behind him, pressing the sharp stiletto heels into the soft flesh of his ass.

  Patrick’s tongue began its journey at my n
avel and slowly made its way up my rib cage, dragging his tongue over my heaving breast. I threw my head back, forgetting all the fear and anxiety I’d felt moments ago. I arched my back into his touch, not wanting to miss a moment of his soft caress.

  His hands followed parallel paths up my torso and over my breasts, covering them with his silky, strong fingers. He played with my hardened nipples, tugging and pinching as he licked over the translucent marks on my neck that marked me as his. I groaned as the sheer pleasure of his touch rippled through me, sending heat straight to my sex. I was wet, ready, and very, very willing.

  His hands expanded over my rib cage and under my arms as his grip tightened on my body, digging his fingers into my flesh. The sensation was perilously close to pain and I reveled in it. I sat up to meet his gaze staring back at me with hunger twinkling in the dark depths of his eyes. The naked hunger in his expression made me shiver as raw need pulsed between my thighs.

  I breathed, filling my lungs with the rich scent of old books and male that was invariably Patrick. His chest heaved against mine in the same agonizing anticipation.

  I slid my hands underneath his sweater and ran my hands up his silky smooth chest. He shrugged the sweater off over his head with one hand as his other hand gripped my hip hard enough to bruise. I unbuttoned each of his shirt buttons from the top down, painstakingly slow, one-by-one. He watched my fingers with eager fascination as I played with each one.

  I nudged his shirt back, exposing the chiseled perfection of his chest. The light from the fire flickered across his alabaster skin, casting shadows of orange and yellow across his stomach. His muscles rippled underneath his delicious skin, tantalizing and teasing me with each motion he made as he dropped his shirt to the floor behind him. Patrick crooked his index finger underneath my chin and raised my face to meet his hungry gaze.

  I wanted to be the temptress he deserved but I was just me. Somehow, next to him in all his hard perfection, I didn’t seem like enough.

  Patrick traced my cheekbone with his index finger, feather light sending shivers through across my skin. “I see this face in my dreams,” he whispered with a devilish smile curving his full lips and crinkling the skin at the corner of his dark eyes. “I don’t remember seeing anything before you.”

  I tightened my grip around his waist with my legs, clamping my thighs around him as I clenched his hard length to me. His hands moved from my face, down my neck, shoulders, and over my arms as his touch left icy burns tingling over my skin.

  He wrapped his fingers around my wrists, a soft demand that I didn’t want to protest. I flexed my fingers and released a small groan of contentment. Patrick forced my arms behind my back then took both wrists in one very large, very strong hand. I writhed on the desk in front of him, grinding my wet panties against him as anticipation made every touch more intense. I wanted him inside of me as the hard line of his erection ground against my thigh.

  He took his free hand and quickly unbuckled his belt, laying it on the desk with careful precision, then unbuttoned his trousers. When his trousers fell to the floor around his ankles, I glanced down and sucked my bottom lip between my teeth to keep from falling to pieces. He wasn’t wearing any underwear. If only I had thought that far ahead.

  He slid his finger under the lace of my panties along my inner thigh. My breath caught in my throat as the sensation of his cool fingers traced the outside of my hot opening. He noticed. His eyes twinkled and the corners of his lips turned up in a seductive little grin that made my legs quiver. He shoved my panties aside, exposing me and my excitement. The tip of his erection glistened with a bead of pre-ejaculate as he fisted his rock hard erection.

  Patrick caressed my wetness with the head of his cock in long slow strokes.

  “Patrick,” I whispered. “Please . . .”

  He gave me that devilish grin again and slid inside of me. Our pelvises met as he reached his end. A primal grunt from the back of his throat sent my senses into overdrive. He glanced down at our bodies, his shaft buried deep inside of me. He reached for his belt and slid it behind my back, wrapping it around my wrists. He jerked the slack out. The leather gripped the skin on my wrists with a crack of leather that echoed in the silent room. The binding pressed my wrists together in an almost painful position, just this side of being too tight. The tendrils of discomfort shot through me, tightening my body in tension and anticipation. I clenched around him, gripping on his cock with my body.

  “Mmmm,” I moaned as I wiggled my ass on the desk, trying to get him just a little bit deeper.

  His heat filled gaze traveled over me in delicious familiarity and ownership as he pinched, grabbed, stroked, and caressed my body. He moved inside me with a slow and agonizing rhythm. I could feel every inch of him as he thrust in and out of me. My eyes rolled back in my head with both torture and delight with each delicious plunge of his cock. He was teasing me and I liked it.

  His hands found my hips, digging his fingers into the soft flesh and jerked my pelvis to him on the edge of the desk. He thrust as deep as he could, a hard smack of skin on skin. He was fantastically deep and the pressure from my bound wrists heightened every sensation.

  I spread my hands wide and leaned back just a bit on my palms.

  He traced the line of my neck with his tongue, tasting the salty wantonness of my skin as he thrust into me in time with my heart. The tip of him stroked me as he ground his pelvis against my clitoris. Pressure built in a soft pulse with each powerful thrust he made, bumping my cervix again and again, pushing the boundaries between pleasure and pain. The ebb and flow of orgasm pulsed in my body as his hips pounded into my body.

  I tried to grip him with my legs. My thighs quivered and a rush of ecstasy forced its way up into blissful release as I shattered around him. I was too wrapped up in the pleasure overwhelming my body to really feel the pain in my arms, the pain in my hips as his fingers dug into my skin, and the pain in my pelvis as he crashed into me a final time. He exploded inside of me as I fell apart around him, milking his cock for every last drop of cum.

  I breathed in deep, letting out all my emotions, fears, and pain as my toes curled with relief and my thighs quivered in climax.

  He wrapped his arms around my waist and picked me up, clenching me to him, pressing my heavy and still sensitive breasts against his chest. He turned, with me still in his arms, sheathing him in the warmth of my sex.

  He kissed me deeply, hungrily, tasting me as if it was the last time. He unlatched his belt from my wrists as his tongue licked the inside of my mouth with more emotion than passion. My heart ached with how much I loved him. I closed my eyes and threw my freed hands around his neck, clinging to him. I loved him more than I should and more than was good for me.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “You are very welcome.” I laughed.

  “You were with Daniel today,” he murmured.

  There was a hint of anger and jealousy in his voice that didn’t belong there. I held him to me with my arms and legs wrapped around his body. I wasn’t going to let him go, not like this. He was still inside me for Christ’s sakes. We couldn’t get in an argument if he was still inside of me. Right? Right.

  “Yeah.” I wouldn’t allow him to hear guilt or pity in my voice. I didn’t regret spending time with either of them and I would not apologize for it. I did regret how it made each of them feel but I couldn’t change that.

  “You have not given yourself to him,” he said in a curious tone, sounding almost like he didn’t believe me.

  I leaned back and evaluated his dark closed-off eyes. His expression had grown cold and he had that business tone to his voice that didn’t belong in a conversation while I was naked. The metaphysical walls we maintained between our emotions came crashing down on his end. It was as if a door had been slammed in my face. The sudden emptiness of not having him in my gut left me d
isoriented and uneasy.

  “Is this really the time to talk about this?” I snapped. Moment ruined. Thanks . . . Ass.

  He stood and withdrew from me, prying my legs from around his waist. I lowered my feet to the floor with my back straight. My legs weren’t 100 percent yet and in three-inch heels so I wobbled a little.

  He circled the desk with his naked back to me, shutting me out, and stood in front of the fire. His body was a long lean line of tense muscles displayed in soft silky alabaster skin. The light from the flames in the fireplace bounced off his naked body, dancing across his pale flesh.

  Patrick’s muscles were stretched taut across his shoulders as the flames dance in the fireplace, a crackling distraction in the silence filling the room. Even though the fire blazed several feet from me, I was cold. I hugged my middle in an attempt to keep warm and perhaps push away the dark, anxious feeling that twisted my stomach with dread. I leaned against the edge of the desk and watched him in silence.

  “If not now, Dahlia, when?” he snapped, his question sharp like shrapnel. His pain stabbed into my gut like a dull blade and tightened all the muscles in my middle, making me hunch over in unease. His emotions were leaking everywhere, hitting me in sporadic jolts of anguish-filled lightning as they seeped through his psychic shields.

  “Where is this coming from?” I asked, as I tried to breathe through the uneasy sensation in my gut that was making me nauseous. “I won’t apologize for a situation you helped create.” Hiding the slight quiver in my voice, I stood. I solidified the emotional barrier I’d created to keep us separate back into place. I couldn’t rely entirely on Patrick to keep us separate. I needed my own protection.