She walked up to him and fisted her hands in his shirt, tugging him a step closer. “I’ve missed you so much,” she said, hugging him tight. “Thank you,” she murmured into his chest. “For everything… I know you must be upset with me.”
Balen’s arms folded around her and pulled her close. His hand cupped the back of her head, pressing her cheek into his beating heart. “I’m not mad, Ashley. Even though I don’t agree with what you’re doing, I understand why you’re doing it.”
“Do you think they’ll be back? Maybe after tonight, they’ll forget about Mitch, figure he’s not worth the trouble, you know?”
“I doubt it. They’ll be back. They need Mitch to get to Liam.”
“You mean Olivia?”
Balen shook his head. “No, I mean Liam. If they can distract him with Mitch, it’ll give them the advantage they’re looking for to kill him. Then with Liam out of the way, they’ll kill Olivia, and probably Mitch, too. He’ll be of no use to them anymore.”
“This is crazy. We have to stop Mitch from going!”
“Like I could stop you?” he asked, cocking a brow.
Obviously, this was still a sore spot for him. She looked away. “You know why I did this, Balen.”
“Just because I know your motive doesn’t mean I have to agree with it. That’s the thing about free will, Ashley. Cale and Rhen can manipulate it, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” He sighed as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. “You look tired. You should try to get some sleep yourself.”
When she nodded, he cupped the back of her neck and placed a chaste kiss on the top of her head. He started to walk away, and she grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Wait, you’re not staying in here with me?” She could feel the hard definition of his muscles leap beneath her touch, his body tensed at her question.
“I shouldn’t,” he told her, sounding a little pained. “It wouldn’t be proper.”
She took a step closer and stood on her tip toes, placing a soft, not so chaste kiss against the side of his neck. She smiled when she heard the audible catch of his breath. “What if I told you that I wanted you to stay?”
“I’d still have to refuse.”
She could hear the strain in his husky voice and smiled.
“You’ll be safer if I stay out there, trust me. The demons aren’t the only thing I’m protecting you from.”
Ashley sighed in resignation and reluctantly released him. “Promise me you’ll be here when I wake up?” Truthfully, she was afraid if she closed her eyes, she’d wake up in the morning to find him gone—it all just a dream.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Liam stood beneath the shower’s spray, his hands splayed against the tile wall as the hot water beat upon his shoulders, sluicing down his back and between his legs. It felt good against his sore, aching muscles. He took in a deep, sighing breath and his ribs cried in protest. Damn, Haden had really nailed him—not once, but twice—in the same spot. He could feel his energy focusing internally as his body worked to repair itself.
Rowen hadn’t given up his life easily. They’d gone a couple rounds, and Liam had taken some wear and tear before he’d finally broken his neck. As much as he would have enjoyed making the bastard suffer, he’d chosen to keep it clean and make it quick.
Immediately after the demon’s death, the shadows of darkness had begun to ooze from his pores, swirling around him in a cloud of blackness until his body disappeared into the Abyss. Just like the hundreds of thousands before him, it awaited the day of Final Judgment. Sheol was a residence for the fallen, the Abyss…that was eternal damnation.
A soft knock sounded on the bathroom door, a hesitant rap that made him tense, jerking him back to the here and now.
“Liam?”
He turned his head, watching through the tempered glass as the door slowly opened, and Olivia poked her head inside. “I, uh…used all the towels earlier, so I brought you one.” She took a tentative step inside, and he bit his bottom lip to stifle a groan at the sight of her.
Even through the steam-hazed glass, he could see she wore nothing but a towel—his presumed towel. Liam’s already tense muscles jerked tighter, and other relaxed parts of his body were no longer at ease.
Aw hell… He cranked the faucet to the right and tipped his head back, letting the freezing cold water pelt his overheated anatomy in a desperate attempt to quell the need burning inside him. Once was bad enough. He’d crossed the line last night and had since drawn a new one. By the looks of it, Olivia intended to cross this one, as well. And by the way his body ached for her, he’d be hard-pressed to stop her.
Liam bent his face into the cold spray and dragged his hand through his hair, pushing the overgrown strands out of his face. “That my towel?” he asked, his husky voice barely more than a gravely rasp.
“Uh-huh…” She let it fall to the floor. One glimpse at her pale skin and the sketchy outline of her feminine curves had him tucking his chin to his chest, letting the cold water beat against his back as he grappled for control.
Where his energy should have been soaring, humming through his veins and threatening to escape through his hands, arching into the tile—there was nothing. All his power was centered internally. At his body’s instant response to the sight of Olivia, his energy didn’t waver from the task of mending his ribs. Bloody hell, if he’d known this was the way to control his power and circumvent the barrier to his touching her, he’d have nailed himself with a Louisville Slugger a long damn time ago.
The slow scrape of metal against metal ushered in a draft of cool air biting at his backside. “Mind if I join you?”
He could feel her tentative emotions rocketing through him. She was nervous, uncertain—not of being with him, he realized, but of him rejecting her. She’d come to him now with intentions, specifically what he didn’t know, but damn if he didn’t want to find out. And after discovering this morning that this was all new, uncharted territory for her, it fueled his desire even more to be the male that imprinted himself on her virgin flesh.
Selfishly, he wanted her for his own, and if that meant ruining her for any other mere mortal male, then so be it. He was quickly tiring of abating his own needs and, at this moment, he didn’t care that it made him a despicable bastard. He may not be able to make love to her, but there were plenty of other ways he could possess this woman. Even now she was climbing in the shower behind him. He was afraid to turn around to face her for fear he’d scare her with—
“Jeez, Liam, are you taking a cold shower? Burr… It’s freezing in here.”
“Sorry…” he mumbled, sending a mental command at the faucet, cranking the lever to the left. The water instantly heated and the shower door slid closed behind him. He sensed her taking a step closer, her eyes slowing traveling the width of his back, down his waist, over his buttocks and past his parted legs.
The steam infused her vanilla-jasmine scent, filling the shower, and a tortured groan chortled in his throat. She reached around his shoulder, brushing against his back as she unhooked the loofah from the showerhead. A burst of coconut-lime permeated the air as she said, “Sorry, you’re gonna smell like a margarita.” And then she began scrubbing his back. “But I guess it’s better than a whore.” At first he tensed in response to her tart words, to her unexpected touch, but after a few minutes, his body began to relax, responding in kind to her soothing massage, all except for a very persistent part of him.
When she reached the side of his neck, she began to scrub vigorously, and he chuckled softly. “I think you got it. Do I have any skin left?”
“You’re funny,” she quipped. “Perhaps I’ll have to leave my own mark on your neck so women will know to back off. You seem to attract them like flies.”
He wasn’t proud that it felt good knowing she was the jealous one for a change. “It wouldn’t last very long,” he teased. “I told you, I heal quickly.”
“Then I guess I’ll just have to reapply—frequently and liberally.�
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His laughter turned into a hiss of air and he sucked in a breath through clenched teeth when she forwent the sponge, dropping it at his feet, and put her soapy hands on his blazing hot skin.
“What’s the matter?” she teased. “Not so funny now, is it?”
Around his side and over his peck, she soaped his chest, sliding her hand down his stomach. He grabbed her wrist, halting her descent when her sudsy fingers slipped lower. “No, it isn’t,” he answered, suddenly serious. “You shouldn’t do this—I mean… We shouldn’t…” Frustrated, he let his head fall forward to rest on the clammy tile. Damn, this was impossible—
Olivia pressed a kiss to the center of his back. “Liam, I can’t feel your energy. And I can only assume it’s because you’re injured, which means we have right now, and who knows when it will ever happen again, ‘cause I’m not about to club you with a two-by-four every time I want to touch you like this.”
“Olivia,” he spoke to the tile, his sandpaper-rough voice sounding foreign even in his own ears. “No one has touched me—ever. I’m not sure… I don’t know…how I’m going to react.”
“Well, I’m guessing favorably,” she teased, wiggling her hand loose from his grasp to grab his wrist and place his palm back against the wall. Her lips pressed against his back again, kissing a trail up to his shoulders as her hand dipped lower. They both gasped at the same time, but for completely different reasons.
***
Olivia was in awe of the male standing before her. Perfectly and generously formed in every way, she felt dwarfed standing behind him. His hands remained slightly raised over his head, palms pressed against the tile as they bore a good portion of his weight. His fingertips dug into the grout between the white porcelain squares, crumbling the cement to dust at his feet, and she couldn’t help but stare in wonder at this powerful warrior.
This is mine, she thought to herself, no longer able to deny the vow of her heart and mind. It thrilled her—he thrilled her. His strong, agonized response to her touch excited and emboldened her. She’d just entered uncharted territory. Not that she’d been a prude, but after meeting Liam three years ago at the naïve age of eighteen, she’d honestly just never wanted to touch another man like this, or be touched by one—not even by Mitch, and that had been a constant stumbling block in their relationship. A very sore spot as time went on and their intimacy did not progress.
It wasn’t until she’d resigned herself to the fact that Liam wasn’t coming back and she couldn’t continue to live her life a miserable maiden that she’d agreed to marry Mitch. She’d known once they married, she could no longer deny him, but until then, she’d clung firmly to her adamant desire to wait until she was married.
Taking a step closer, Olivia pressed against his back, molding her curves into his muscled contours. When she kissed him beneath his shoulder blade, she could feel the rapid heaves of his short, panting breaths. She ached to touch the scarred V crossing his shoulder blades. The few times she’d tried to touched them before, he’d never let her, saying the scars were too sensitive. But given the purposeful nature of her touch, she impulsively dipped her fingertips into the scarred indentions.
Instantly, his already hard body turned to flesh-covered steel, her name left his lips in a hoarse bark of ecstasy. His head tipped back, his giant body shuddering in waves. It surprised and delighted her to discover her touch could evoke such a powerful response. As he caught his breath, she dipped beneath his outstretched arm and slithered around his side. Pinning herself between the tile wall and this wall of muscle, the sheer size of him amazed her. She’d never felt more fragile and yet so safe.
Demurely, she kept her eyes cast to his parted feet, her heart pounding inside her chest at the thought of raising them—not that she could resist, or even wanted to. She’d dreamt of what he’d look like, standing before her like this. But as she slowly raised her eyes, Olivia realized that no amount of dreaming could have prepared her for this stunning reality.
He was absolutely divine…
By the time her eyes slowly dragged up his body to meet his, Liam’s bold sapphire gaze was locked on her with such a possessive intensity that she instinctively took a step back, bumping into the wall behind her. Liam’s chest rose and fell with each panting breath.
“How you doin’?” she asked tentatively, watching as he grappled for control that seemed to be quickly slipping from his grasp. After a moment, he nodded once in confirmation, seemingly unable to speak.
“You keeping it held back?”
Briskly, he nodded again.
“You think you’ll hurt me?” He must, why else would he be clutching the tile while looking like he wanted to devour her?
He shook his head.
Olivia reached up and wound her arms around his neck. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed the hard clench of his jaw and pressed her chest against his. She could feel the rapid pounding of his heart through her breasts and smiled. Arching a brow, she asked saucily, “Well then, what are you waiting for?”
With a tortured growl, he pushed away from the wall and caught Olivia up in his arms. His mouth descended on hers in a brutal kiss that claimed her very breath and stole all rational thoughts from her mind. His primal aggression surprised her as he stepped forward, backing her against the wall. This wasn’t the Liam she knew, the soft, tentative, gentle angel who’d always been so careful with his touch. No, this was the touch of a warrior—a lover too long denied his heart’s desire. And she loved it! Loved his strength, loved his passion, loved that for these few stolen hours, he could touch her without fear of hurting her.
With one arm tucked beneath her, he easily held her up. His other hand roved and explored all the places she’d only dreamed of him touching. When his fingers slipped down past her waist, she cried out in pleasure, breaking their kiss to drag ragged gasps of air into her lungs.
“I love you, Olivia,” he whispered, claiming the side of her neck in an open-mouth kiss that marked her throat as she’d threatened to do to him.
She wanted to respond, to tell him that she loved him, too, but the only sound she could get past her lips was a broken moan. His ceaseless ministrations swiftly carried her to a shattering release that had her crying out his name as her blunt nails scored his rock hard shoulders.
Already, she noticed the ever-so-slight heating of his touch, and a brief moment of desperation knotted in the pit of her stomach. Panicked, she kissed him with everything she had, not ready for this to end and fearing at the rate he was healing, it wouldn’t be long before his touch was forbidden once again.
Liam must have felt it, too, because his own kiss became frenzied and desperate. Without letting her go, the shower turned off, and forgoing the towel, he carried her into the bedroom. She didn’t know how much time they had, but knew, without a doubt, that Liam was going to make every second count.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A knot fisted in Balen’s gut as he looked down to meet those pleading hazel eyes. “I promise… I’ll be here when you wake up.” Bending down, he placed a lingering kiss on Ashley’s forehead. He longed to taste her full, sweet lips, but wouldn’t let himself think about heading down that road with her—not after witnessing the hell Liam had endured for the last three years. Just thinking about his friend’s suffering gave him the resolve to step away. “Good night, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered, turning to walk away before she could stop him.
“Good night, Balen.”
He closed the door softly behind him. Once it latched tight, he let out a deep sigh and sat in one of the flimsy plastic lawn chairs that probably cost a whole five bucks at Walmart. He shifted in the chair, trying to get comfortable for the night, and wondered if the thing was going to hold him. Folding his hands behind his head, he slid down in the seat, lowering his center of gravity. With eyes closed, he stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles.
A few hours passed with him sitting there, statu
e still, outside Ashley’s door when the one next to hers opened and closed quietly. Balen cracked open one eye and glanced up to see Mitch standing beside him. He closed his eye again and remained unmoved, pretending he didn’t know the guy was there. Perhaps the shithead would change his mind and go back inside. It was almost 2 a.m. What was he still doing up?
He could feel Mitch’s eyes on him, sizing him up. When it became glaringly obvious the guy wasn’t going anywhere, Balen sighed. “What’s on your mind, Mitch?” His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together, when another lawn chair scraped against concrete as it inched closer. All hope was lost when the chair creaked, protesting as he sat down beside him.
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
If Mitch expected an answer, he sure as hell wasn’t getting one. But Balen did open an eye and cocked his brow as if to say “Really?”
“I can see it when you look at her. After you came to my house, I thought maybe you were just an over-possessive guardian. But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”
“Why are you out here?” Balen asked dryly. He couldn’t lie, so there wasn’t any point in trying.
“Why aren’t you in there with her?” Mitch countered.
Balen sat up and turned, pinning him with a baleful glare. “This may be a foreign concept to you, Mitch, but I’m not in the habit of taking advantage of women.”
“Ouch....” He dragged his fingers through his hair and exhaled a deep sigh. “Hey, I apologized to her.”
“As you well should have,” Balen snapped. A few moments of silence passed, and he’d almost believed he was in the clear of having to spend any more time talking to Olivia’s fiancé, when the persistent bastard started flapping his gums again.
“Can I ask you something?”
“What?” he answered with exaggerated patience.
“Why do they fall in love with you so easily?”
Shades of Darkness (Redemption Series) Page 21
