He had to have her now. His fingers rasped over the lace between her legs and felt the wetness there. He stroked the fabric. She thrust upward, needing more sensation. His eyes rolled when her hips hit his erection.
“I’m leaving these on,” he said hoarsely, looking at her lace. “It’s the least you can do after teasing me with them at the station.”
A wicked, self-satisfied grin curved her lips, and it was that smile he wished he could capture to remember forever. It sent his heart hammering against the black doubt that had kept it caged all these years. He guided her cuff-free hand to her panties.
“Hold it aside,” he ordered.
She used the fingers to hook onto the lace at her crotch, tugged, and gave him an unhindered view.
He slid his blunt tip over her slick center until she squirmed and begged him to fill her with whimpered pleas. She was his. He claimed her. He showed her by tunneling into her tight heat with a hard thrust to the hilt.
All senses shut down. Both of them stilled. He felt nothing but the simple sensation of her surrounding him. When the irresistible stillness became too much, he dropped a hand to either side of her head. One holding hers, joined irrevocably, gripping tightly. He pumped into her. She encouraged him with her legs kicked high, pressing into his rear.
Their first time was supposed to be a marathon, to last like he’d promised. He loved her more than anything, and he wanted to show it. But it was hopeless. Her sweet smell, her smooth skin, and glowing cheeks. She barked demands for him to go faster, to hit her deeper. He was powerless to her whim. He always would be. With hard pants, cries, and sweaty movements, they reached their bliss together.
He collapsed onto her, still grinding absently, wringing the last of their throws, kissing her neck, muttering sweet nothings until their breathing returned to normal and they entered a different kind of quiet. A shared stillness.
For long moments they stayed silent, simply holding each other, and then she spoke.
“I didn’t puke.”
He chuckled and kissed her gently. “Never again.”
“Again starts tonight, right?”
21
Liza woke in Joe’s bed. The sun was yet to shine, but she could feel it in her blood. Sunrise had always been like that for her, a tangible sensation, an anticipation. Perhaps it had something to do with the training she’d received. Much of it had been outdoors. She’d learned to trust her body clock on more than one occasion. And right now, her body clock was ticking along deliciously with tugs of recently pleasured aches. Joe. She grinned. Joey. He didn’t like her calling him Joey, which was precisely why she was going to do it.
Stretching languidly in the sheets, she put her arm out and searched for him, but found the bed empty. Her heart clenched, panic bloomed, but then she heard movement in the living room… no, kitchen. The sizzling of bacon. Eggs… Holy shitballs, her man was making her breakfast.
Scrambling to find her clothes, she settled on his shirt and threaded her arms through the sleeves. She plugged the only two surviving buttons closed. She padded into the kitchen, only to pause at the threshold.
The sight of her mate caused a visceral reaction in her body. Everything froze, lured by his messy morning appeal. Joe stood with his back to her, stirring the sizzling pan. A black apron was tied to his front, but his rear was naked as the day he was born. The globes of his taut ass dimpled as he tensed and relaxed with movement. Olive skinned. Broad-shouldered. Almost too good to be true. He looked good. He cooked. He made love like a machine. All night, they’d lasted. In every position. Mine, she thought, and licked her lips.
With barely contained mischief, she tiptoed over and jumped onto his back like a monkey. He let go of the spatula and steadied her with a small grunt of amusement.
“Morning, Joey.” She kissed him on the prickly cheek, loving the raspiness of his stubble.
“It was going to be a surprise,” he said, voice deep and throaty. “You should go back to bed.”
She slid down his back, pinched his rear, and then fit herself under his arm.
“Sleeping in isn’t my thing,” she said, eyeing the delicious omelet and bacon.
“What is?” he asked. But before she replied, he answered. “Morning workout. I forgot.”
She smiled up at him. “I can take my jog tomorrow. Or a swim. Maybe you can come with me.”
Affectionate eyes met hers. “I’d like that.”
They’d finished eating and were halfway through washing the dishes when Liza finally dared to ask something that had been playing on her mind forever.
“What did my family do to make you hate them?”
Joe wiped his hands on his apron and faced her with an evasive shift of his eyes. “It doesn’t matter now. The reason is moot.”
“Now that makes me want to know the truth. Tell me.”
He gripped the back of his neck and looked at his feet for a long time before lifting his gaze. “I don’t want to start anything. It doesn’t matter. We’re together. That’s all that matters.”
“What the fuck did Parker do?” she growled. Because it had to be him. He was the ringleader in all things. “Tell me, or I’ll force it out of him.”
A long exhale left Joe. “Do you remember at the end of that first summer, we’d arranged to meet up and I had a question to ask you?”
Liza folded her arms. “Of course I remember. That’s the day you gave me the baseball.” She pointed at her face. “You were all bruised up from your dad…” She studied his face, and it wasn’t the kind of expression that proved she was right. He was downcast and cleaning that pan as though it held the answer to his problems. If he was so reticent to let her know, then it could only mean one thing. “Oh, shit. It wasn’t your father who beat you. It was them. My brothers!”
He winced.
“What did they do, Joey?”
“They told me to stay away from you. They said I’d never be good enough, and that I’d only hurt you.”
“Bastards.” How dare they decide what was right for her? Ire built like a rising tide, filling her veins and muscles with tension. She was going to kill them. Murder them in their sleep. Better yet, she’d shave Parker’s hair off. That would teach the asshole.
“Liza,” Joe said, reaching for her. “It doesn’t matter. They were wrong.”
“Which ones?” she asked, jaw clenched. “Parker? Wyatt?” her mind traveled back. Tony, maybe, but he was too concerned with having fun back then. It was more likely the eldest two.
“Forget it.”
“You realize we both suffered because of him sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. We could have been together years ago if you’d only asked me out.”
He gave her a sad smile. “Maybe the bond wouldn’t have finished triggering back then, anyway.” He sighed and pinched his nose. “Parker couldn’t have known that I was afraid I’d end up like my father, that his comments would cut so deep. He had no clue what was going on in my life. Or maybe he did. It pains me to say this, but he was only trying to protect you.”
She slumped. “I’m sorry. It should never have happened, but while we’re on the subject of confessions…” She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I have something to confess.”
He folded his arms with a smirk. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” She bit her lip. Here goes. “The night before I left for my, um, extended training, do you remember I gave you the ball, but you fell down the trellis to meet me in your yard?”
He nodded with a frown.
“Well,” she continued. “After you fell, and your father hit you, I kinda… sorta… threatened to kill him.”
“What?”
She shrugged. “I was so angry. I put him in a choke-hold, and he peed his pants, and I said if he ever touched you like that again I would come after him and kill him.”
Joe stilled. His nostrils flared as he grappled with his thoughts until he finally concluded, gripped her shoulders, and stared intensely into her eyes
, so hard that she felt it through her body.
“You risked your secret, for me,” he said. “When you were fifteen.”
She gave a hesitant laugh. “I guess, I loved you even then. I just didn’t know what it was, or how to show it. I’m sorry, I should have—”
Joe’s lips slammed down on Liza’s. He dragged her to the ground, right there in the kitchen, ran his hands up her thighs, and slid his fingers between her legs.
“Oh,” she gasped, surprised, as he kissed his way down her front, ripping the last of the buttons on his shirt off. “If I’d known this was my reward, I would have told you a while ago.”
“You said you loved me,” he murmured against her skin, then kissed the hollow of her belly button.
She smiled. “I guess I did.”
Walking into the precinct with Joe was surreal. Maybe it was that their relationship had shifted, solidified, and they walked in, united, but the place looked different. Felt different. It seemed as if everyone watched them, but Joe didn’t stall. He strode strongly and proudly. Liza did too.
“We’ll touch base with Briggs and Geoff,” Joe said as they pushed through the front door. “We also have your portrait artist sketch, so can perhaps canvas with that.”
“What about your… other investigation?” she asked.
“You leave that to me.” They got to Joe’s office, but found Captain Morais standing there with two uniformed officers.
Morais checked his watch and gave Liza a grim look.
Her stomach dropped. Her pulse quickened. She turned tentatively to Joe—could he have betrayed her? No. Not after last night. Their relationship was solid. She knew that deep in her soul. He looked as flummoxed as she was.
“Liza Lazarus,” Morais said. “We’ve received a formal complaint of unwarranted use of excessive force. While the matter is under investigation, you’ll need to hand in your firearm and your badge.”
“You’re suspending me?” she gaped.
Morais held his palm out, waiting for her things.
Liza met Joe’s stare. “It’s him. The Ripper suspect.”
Joe grabbed Morais’ arm. “Is he still here?”
The two police officers stepped forward, ready to intervene, but Joe let go of the captain.
“You know we can’t reveal the personal information of a victim of police brutality,” Morais said.
Even though she saw red, Liza unclipped her firearm from her holster, and removed her badge from her belt.
“Liza,” Joe said. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do,” she replied. “There will be an investigation. We can use it to find him. Investigate him back.”
Joe looked like he was going to complain but thought better of it. “I’ll drive you home.”
22
In the basement level of Lazarus House, Despair submitted herself to tests of all sorts. She’d had her blood drawn, brainwaves monitored, mobility checks, a lie detector test, and more. Pride completed a thorough study of her, and just when she thought he was done, he came up with another test. Right now she submitted to the dreary task of a heart rate monitor taking incremental readings. She wasn’t sure what purpose it served, but it kept him complacent while he studied biological samples down a microscope on the workshop table.
Nuts, bolts, and oil spilled across the beat-up wooden table surface. Flint and Sloth tinkered with something with wires and occasionally crossed to a room the supercomputer server was in. They pretended not to watch Pride’s progress with Despair, but now and then, Sloth would cast her eyes Despair’s way, assess, and then flit back.
She held a grudge for what Despair had done to her fiancé, even though she’d then saved his life. Perhaps they’d sent her down to monitor Despair’s emotions, but Sloth’s empathy powers would sense no red flags. Despair felt nothing. Was nothing. Only one light existed at the end of her tunnel, and it existed inside a tiny locket hanging around Julius Allcott’s neck. If all was going according to plan, Julius and his top scientist had completed most of their trials on regular human stem cells. Once Despair delivered the life giving cells from Wrath’s child’s umbilical cord, they would know exactly what to do. Nothing would go to waste. It was their only immediate hope of getting the data they required to extend the shelf-life of replicates beyond a few months.
Despair looked across the table at Pride looming over his microscope, contemplating samples of her blood. From what she knew of her younger brother, he was one of those “can-do” geniuses who learned anything he was curious about. If the information was there, he found it. And then he broke new barriers, turning that information inside out. But he wasn’t self-aware. She’d been watching him. He thought he had a handle on his sin, but it handled him in ways he was yet to comprehend.
His DNA was still locked, which meant he had no powers, nor could he procreate until he met his mate. Despair was the only other sibling left in the same boat. The two of them had no future, but which one would go first?
In the lab that raised them, Parker would compete with Despair. Sit taller, walk faster, be better. But she’d only ever sing in his face. It had been fun ruffling his fur.
She shifted her gaze back to a blank spot on the floor before her.
Keeping them impotent had been Gloria’s best idea. It was the only thing that saved Despair from being used and impregnated as a test subject by the Syndicate. She had other stem cells in her body they could use, but they wanted to exhaust embryonic cells first, or the next best thing, umbilical cord cells. If they decided Despair’s worth had expired, then... No. Her father loved her. He’d placed a strand of her hair, along with the strands from his first family, in his precious locket. He wanted Despair with him in the new world, as much as them.
“I’m not sure what you’re looking for, Pride,” she murmured.
He lifted his golden gaze to meet hers. “You don’t need to know. And it’s Parker.”
Back to the blank spot on the floor. Despair let herself become one with it. Finding something mundane to focus on, explore, and turn marvelous, had been her only source of entertainment on many lonely nights during her youth after the fire at the lab. At first, Julius hadn’t been kind to her. He also hadn’t been mean. He’d just been the one who rescued her from the flames and healed her. They all thought he was a cruel man, but she’d sensed his despair, and how it lessened when he visited her. Sometimes a person’s true colors showed from the dark cages of their body.
Eventually, she’d been moved to a facility where she was the only person in a room, watched and studied much like she had been in the lab with her siblings. Only this time, there were no carers. There were no friends. Only her, four walls, and a bed and toilet.
The walls became her friends.
The bed, her solace.
The toilet, a place to drown.
“He’s just making sure you’re healthy,” Flint said, his deep voice piercing her reverie.
She slid her gaze to him. A vague memory of him existed somewhere in her psyche. She knew because she felt something tug deep inside her chest when she looked at him. But apart from that, he was no one to her. He helped stage the rescue that sent Gloria into a kamikaze state. He was a father to Despair’s siblings. And it was either he, or Mary, who kept a constant, yet compassionate, eye on her while she lived in this building.
Despair often watched him to ascertain what Mary saw in him. A quiet, yet sturdy presence. He was attractive for an older man, but he wasn’t a leader like Mary. He existed only to support his makeshift family, spending his time in the workshop, making weapons, playing with computers, and fixing tech gear. Despair couldn’t understand. Each of the mated Lazarus siblings was drawn to their partners through the biological urge programmed into their DNA, the one that pushed them toward a person embodying their sin’s opposing virtue.
She might not understand why they loved each other, but she did know love was a weakness. Mary would do anything to save Flint’s life, and he would die for
her. Despair counted on it.
“How’s the tatt going?”
Despair lifted her head and found Envy looking down at her. The youngest of the Seven had been the most blasé about her reemergence. Even now he stood in casual torn jeans. Nothing about his appearance said he took this business seriously. Tattoos crawled up his arms, twining in patterns that accentuated his physique. An odd beanie covered his unruly medium length hair.
When Despair didn’t respond, he took her hand, and gently checked the freshly scored skin on her inner wrist. He tilted it to catch the light and squinted at the Yin-Yang symbol.
“Looks almost healed,” he noted, then met her eyes and held. “And almost in the black. You need to find yourself some hope, sister, or you’ll blackout.”
She shrugged.
His brows puckered, but he let go of her hand and then strolled over to Pride where they spoke in hushed tones. Despair went back to studying the floor. She knew they spoke about her. She knew no one trusted her. But she didn’t need trust. She only needed for them to keep her in this building until her plan came to fruition. She would find trust in her next life… or rather, her replicate would. That’s all she wanted—an end to this misery and a rebirth of her old self. She wanted it so badly, it consumed her.
A strange grunting and choking sound came from the basement hallway entrance. When Despair left the solace of her dot, she found Lust clutching her middle as though it hurt and eyeing Despair with suspicion. Her mate rubbed his palm on her back.
“You okay?” he asked.
Lust nodded grimly, straightened, and took a deep breath.
She senses my lust.
Despair tried to empty her thoughts, hopes, and dreams. If she was found out at this late stage in the plan, it would all have been for nothing. Thankfully, the rest of the family noticed Lust’s entrance and started talking.
“I thought you were at work,” Pride said, with a clear note of derision.
Lust Page 17
