by Jaymin Eve
I had missed this feeling, and it wasn’t even a tenth of the way Asher had made me feel. My knees went weak as the orgasm crashed over me, and I would have hit the tiled floor … only strong arms wrapped around me before I could. Strong and familiar, the gold-tinted marks standing out across his bronze skin.
Asher.
I wanted to kick him out immediately, but I was still riding out the waves of my orgasm, and then he was there, his scent and our bond smashing into me.
“No,” I shouted, finally managing to untangle myself, chest heaving as I stared at him.
Asher’s chest was doing some heaving of its own. He was naked, bar a pair of black fitted men’s underwear boxers, his cock straining against them and drawing my attention. His eyes draped across me, lingering on my body, sending heat through me.
“What are you doing in here?” I asked, not making a single attempt to cover myself. Fuck him. He was the one who barged in unannounced.
“I heard—” His husky voice broke off. “I thought you needed me.”
My body was still humming from coming, and yet, at the sound of that statement, I knew I wasn’t even remotely satisfied. “I don’t need you, Asher,” I said angrily, my voice louder than I intended so I could try and prove my point. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
Fire filled his eyes. “You think we were a mistake?”
“Why the fuck wouldn’t I?” I shouted back. “You destroyed me. I can’t do that again. I can’t be that person again. The Maddison you knew died the same day you did.”
His expression shuttered, and normally I’d think that was pain on his face now, but after the way he’d acted recently, who the fuck knew what he was feeling.
“Hear me,” he growled, crowding me, both of us half under the shower. “There was not a single fucking mistake between us. We’re fated mates, and nothing will ever change that. No matter what you say.”
I pushed at him, and he didn’t move an inch. “Mates don’t treat each other that way,” I shot back at him.
He made another rumbling, angry sound. “I’m protecting you!”
I shoved him again. “The only being I need protecting from is you, asshole!”
Why was I still shouting?
Asher’s jaw was clenched hard, doing that scary ticking that usually meant he was about to lose it. He moved fast, and I gasped as his lips slammed into mine, my back hard against the wall as he pressed into me. Oh gods.
My brain turned to fuzz as one of his hands tangled in my hair and the other came up under my ass to lift me higher. Before I could think twice about it, my legs were wrapped around his waist, my body straining into the long hard length of him. I opened my mouth and his tongue swept across mine in an instant. I’d never thought I’d taste him again, never thought I’d have this chance to be loved by Asher. He died. To me he died, so this was a gift. And a curse.
“Asher … gods,” I cried, sobs falling from me. Needy, moaning sobs.
“What, baby?” he murmured, our lips still moving together. “Tell me what you need.”
Even if it was only one night that I had this, I was going to take it. I’d deal with the repercussions in the morning. Today had almost been perfect … I could pretend a little while longer.
“I need you to fuck me,” I said confidently. “Make me forget everything, Ash. I need to forget for one night.”
An unfamiliar emotion flickered across his face before it disappeared and his lips were on mine again. “I’m going to make you forget your name,” he promised, and a long, happy sigh left me.
He lowered me down onto the small bench seat in the shower, my back against the tiles. His lips pressed to mine over and over until I was breathless and panting. His hands cupped my breasts, holding the weight of each and brushing gently across the nipples. His tongue soon followed, and as he loved each breast, sucking and kissing, I threaded my fingers through his hair and pulled him tighter to me.
“Don’t make love to me,” I moaned. “Fuck me.”
Asher lifted his eyes to meet mine, looking up through thick dark lashes. His grin was wicked, and I groaned at how damned sexy he was. Before I could say another word, he yanked my lower half forward on the seat, supporting my ass with his hands. His mouth was on me, closing around my clit and sucking so hard that I almost came off my chair. My back arched up as I begged him for more.
He was an expert with his tongue, using it to bring me closer and closer. When his fingers slowly pushed inside, I couldn’t stop the screaming orgasm that smashed into me, my hands clawing into Asher’s back in a desperate attempt to hold on.
To find something to keep me from detonating into a million pieces.
“Holy fuck,” I gasped when I finally stopped trembling. Asher kept his mouth on me through the entire orgasm, drawing it out as long as possible, using my body to get exactly what he wanted.
What we both wanted.
He lifted his head, still kneeling between my legs, his arms holding me up while I was angled back against the wall. His chest rumbled as he stared, and I couldn’t stop from touching his marks. Especially the crown that mirrored my own crown in so many ways. Asher groaned, his eyes fluttering closed for a second before he reached out and palmed my ribs, closing his hand over my entire tattoo.
It was getting too emotional for me; I was struggling to keep my distance, so I launched myself at him, knocking him back on his ass in the shower. Before he could ask what the hell I was doing, I straddled him, water beating across us.
Asher’s hands went to my hips, the grip hard enough that a strangled moan escaped. I was already rocking my body against his. Asher was not a small guy, and it had been a while for me, but thankfully the two orgasms had prepped me well, and in slow increments I sank down onto him, sighing at that feeling of fullness.
Pleasure spiraled out through every limb.
“Gods,” he groaned. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Shut up,” I said roughly, not wanting to be reminded of the distance between us. If he wanted to end this sex before it even began, he was going the right way.
Deliberately, I tightened my body, bringing him even deeper inside. His eyes fluttered again as his grip strengthened on my hips. By instinct alone, I started to move, rocking my hips to what felt good, searching for one moment of happiness … something to fill the emptiness.
I’d told Asher to fuck me, but somehow I ended up riding him slowly, rocking back and forth until both of us were panting and rapid little moans fell from my lips. Asher respected my wishes, saying nothing, but his eyes were drowning with emotion.
What emotion, I had no idea, but it was a far cry from the cold façade he’d been showing me for so long. My legs started to tingle, the tension in my lower belly tightening.
“Asher,” I whispered, and he responded by lifting one of his hands, tangling it up in the back of my hair and pulling my face down to his lips. This changed our angle, and I cried out as the orgasm ripped through me, the sort of pleasure that should kill a person detonating across my body.
Kissing Asher was like coming home, and I wasn’t ashamed to say that tears mixed with the shower water as he groaned my name and came as well, the kiss going on long after we were done.
Now let him go.
Drawing on the strength I’d learned to build inside over the last months, I lifted my head, staring down at him for only a minute. Then, not that gracefully—fuck you, demigod genetics, you were supposed to fix that shit—I slid off Asher, my body tightening at the sensation of his dick scraping across every raw nerve ending.
He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. “You should go, Ash,” I said softly, using his nickname to soften the command even though I really didn’t owe him that. “Tomorrow is going to be a long day, and we have to be up early.”
Don’t look. Don’t you fucking dare look.
Of course I looked. Only a saint wouldn’t take in the long, hard, golden limbs of the Atlantean. Not to mention all the ink that I wa
nted to trace with my mouth and my hands and…
“Go!” I said, harsher.
Asher lifted himself up slowly, the muscles of his chest flexing as he got to his feet. Even though we’d just had sex and both of us had come, he didn’t look like he was done. Not judging by the hard length of him still begging for my attention.
“You want me to go?” he asked, voice low and … emotionless.
No.
“Yes. Please leave so I can get some sleep.”
I was dismissing him like he was a tawdry one-night stand, not the love of my life, but I was too confused to deal with this right now. I needed some time and distance.
For a moment, I didn’t think he was going to go, but then he turned and left, not even bothering to grab a towel. Knowing Asher, he wouldn’t give a shit about wandering around naked. His confidence was both annoying and one of his best traits.
As I heard the bedroom door slam closed, I fell to my knees again, sobs rocking through me. This time, there was no one there to catch me.
37
“Well, that was a mess,” Princeps Jones said late the next day, his face a little weary despite vampire genetics making it impossible for him to actually look bad.
The trial had been a shitshow of the worst kind. Riots by Chellie and Kate’s families, an all-out brawl that Asher had effectively stopped with a few punches and some magic, and then the final decision placing both girls in the prison system for ten years. A blip in the life of a supernatural, but the howls of their families told a different story.
I’d actually felt a little bad for both of them. Their time in the system had clearly not been easy, judging by their pale faces and bloodshot eyes. Neither of them looked like the stunningly beautiful popular chick any longer. They looked tired and beaten down.
And they had another ten years of the same treatment.
“They drugged you,” Asher said, the first words he’d spoken in hours. He’d been back to asshole Asher today, but that was okay. It helped me focus on getting through my testimony about what happened. “I can already tell you’re feeling sorry for them. Don’t. They don’t deserve it. This is exactly what they need to realize that their actions have consequences.’
Fury hit me hard. “Do you realize that, Asher? Actions have consequences. It’s a lesson everyone”—especially you—“needs to learn.”
His glare would have ripped me to pieces months ago, but I was used to it now. I’d built a little barrier around my emotions, and no longer was I completely dependent on him.
“I know it better than you think,” he said, and I wanted to believe that was sadness in his voice, but—
Princeps Jones cleared his throat, and I swallowed down my embarrassment at having this argument in front of him. “We’ll head back to the Academy in the morning,” he said quickly. “I have some business here to take care of this afternoon. You two should go out and have a look around the town.”
I snorted. “Yeah, I think I’ve had just about enough of Asher’s company. Thanks, though.”
I wasn’t planning on staying in my room or anything. I would explore on my own. No Asher. Before the Atlantean dick could give me some sort of smartass reply, I was up and out of the small cafeteria. The coffee in here was shit anyway, and I needed to escape, so I took off for my room. I changed out of the formal dress and into some tight jeans and a simple white shirt. My purple hair flashed at me, almost mockingly. I’d expected so much from the year of purple. Why, after everything pink put me through, I had no idea. But here we were, halfway through the year, and I’d lost my mate and fucking died.
I mean, seriously.
Drunk. I needed to get drunk immediately.
Once my boots were on, I left the room, deliberately not looking at Asher’s door.
The supernatural prison town was not large, consisting of what I would call a main street with shops on either side, cute diners, and some expensive restaurants. There was also a small mall with a grocery store, a movie theatre, and five bars.
When I stepped inside the first dimly-lit room, I immediately relaxed. This was what I needed. Darkness, anonymity, and mindless alcohol-induced fun. There were half a dozen tables scattered around, a few of them taken up by … shifters. Wolf this time. There was also a lone vampire in the corner nursing his red-tinged beer, and a witch laughing with her friends in another booth at the back of the room. It was just dark outside, and I sensed that the crowd would only grow here. So I took a seat next to the only other supe in the room, a blond man nursing what looked like scotch.
A troll strolled across immediately, still polishing a few glasses. He eyed me for a beat. “Who are you?” he said in rough, broken English.
“None of your fucking business is who I am,” I snapped back. I had a lot of pent-up anger. It was going to go somewhere if I didn’t get a drink.
I slammed fifty euros on the bar. “Bring me a bottle of something that will get me drunk.”
The troll eyed me again like he was searching for something before he shrugged and dropped a bottle of something dark and thick on the wood bar. “Don’t cause any trouble,” were his final words as he strolled off.
Chuckling at the fact that I was now as obnoxious as a troll, I reached over the bar and grabbed a shot glass. The dude next to me gave me a guarded look, and I saw enough to note that he was model beautiful and a shifter. Of what variety, I couldn’t tell, but he had a very Braxton vibe about him. It really didn’t matter. I wasn’t there to make friends. I was there to … forget.
“Ugh, gods,” I said as the first shot burned down my throat. “What the fuck is this?”
I look at the bottle again and could have sworn that the stranger at my side grinned. “Maybe the next one will be better,” I decided out loud, filling the glass again. “Nope.” I coughed. “Definitely not.”
This time he definitely smiled, and it changed that tough-guy pretty-boy exterior into something that was beyond hot. Not Asher hot, but I could tell that pretty much every woman in the world—supe or not—would want to bang this dude.
If only I wasn’t in love with an asshole, that banging might have been done by me.
“You should have asked for the fey wine,” he said, not looking at me, staring into his drink. His voice was husky and low without any discernable accent, and I scented burning embers when I leaned closer.
I wanted to ask him if he was a dragon shifter, but considering how rare they were, I doubted that was the case. And I knew that asking race, in some places, was considered rude. Like … you should already know, and if you didn’t, it was probably because they didn’t want you to know.
“Yeah.” I slammed down another shot, coughing again. “Somehow I don’t think trollie over there is feeling friendly enough to exchange the bottle now.”
A few more shots later the intense bitter flavor of the alcohol had faded, and it was getting easier for me to relax and brush off the stress of today. Of my life in general.
“What’s your name?” I asked the stranger I’d been drinking in silence with for the past hour. Unlike me, trollie liked this guy, refilling his drink before he even finished the previous one.
The shifter didn’t reply, and I shrugged, because I really didn’t care. “Rayge,” he murmured a moment later, and I swallowed hard.
“Rage … like … a really fucking angry person.”
His lips twitch again. “Yes. That would be accurate. My name is spelled with a y, but otherwise … accurate.”
Interesting. “I’m Maddi,” I said conversationally. I had hit fun drunk stage.
Rayge grunted.
“Okay, cool. Well, nice talk,” I added.
Another grunt, but there was also a half smile, and I took that to mean I was growing on the prickly supe. Another hour passed in silence, and at this stage I was definitely in love with this alcohol. It was different to fey wine. Not as potent, but when it set in, it stayed, and I was happily drunk and spilling my guts to Rayge, who watched me with interest
.
“So you’re saying he’s been ignoring you for weeks after you thought he was dead and mourned his ass?”
I nodded, sloshing some alcohol over my glass. “Right? And then he just starts up at the dance like nothing happened between us.” I slammed another shot and handed the glass to Rayge so he could do the same. We were on our second bottle, sharing it back and forth.
“Did you kill him?” he asked in that low, rumbly voice.
I shook my head right as someone slammed into my back, jostling me forward. The bar was packed now, every chair and spare space taken up. I was about to swing around and shout at the fuck who hit me, when Rayge stood, a low rumbling rocking his chest.
I gulped as my eyes traced up his long body. He was so much taller than I’d thought from sitting next to him, built like a linebacker, with thickly roped muscles visible under his tight black shirt.
He growled again, and there was that smoky fire scent filling the air. “Apologize!” Rayge said, his eyes locked on whoever was behind me.
I turned slowly to find a tall, dark-haired vampire who kinda looked like he was shitting himself. “Uh, s-sorry, Rayge,” he stuttered. “It was an accident.”
“Not to me … apologize to Maddi.”
The vampire turned his terrified gaze on me. “Really sorry. Let me buy you a drink to make it up to you.”
Despite his nerves and fear, he was still a dude, and his eyes still ran across my tight white shirt. I swung back around, accidentally clipping him with my elbow. “No thanks. Just fuck off.”
There was a moment of silence, and then his icy energy left. Rayge folded his huge body back into the chair and we shared the bottle for a few more minutes. “You’re kinda scary,” I told him, not really scared at all but knowing that I should be. Instinct was enough for me to understand there was something about Rayge, something other that I should concern myself with, but in reality, I enjoyed his company enough to overlook it.
