Authors: Rhyannon Byrd
Which meant that he needed that bloody Marker. Tomorrow, he would tear up the entire goddamn forest if he had to, rain or no rain, and find the cross. No more putting it off…no more waiting. And then, even if he didn’t find it, he’d face Gregory…and make sure that Kellan got Hope out of town, whether she wanted to go or not. He hated doing that to her, but until they knew for sure that the Marker wasn’t on her property, he couldn’t take the chance of leaving her behind to deal with the monsters on her own. The Casus and Westmore and the Collective. Everyone who wanted to get their hands on the prize…and who would make her life a living hell because of it.
Clearing his throat, Riley finally broke the breath-filled silence. “It’s too dangerous for you to stay by yourself, Hope. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to move my things into the house.”
She turned her head to look at him in the shadowed darkness, a teasing light glittering in her eyes as she smiled and said, “In that case, I might as well go ahead and warn you now, Ri. You stay, I expect you to put out.”
A harsh, gritty laugh jerked out of his chest, scraping his throat. “Is that right?” he asked, the corner of his mouth almost twitching into a full-fledged grin. The first one in what felt like forever—and it was as if that
easy gesture unlocked something inside him. Some hidden, secret place that he hadn’t had access to for so long, he’d forgotten what it was like. It allowed a tiny spark of happiness to shine through. One that he was going to hold on to through the long hours of the night, until tomorrow came, and he had to snuff it out.
Her cheeks were warm with an endearing flush of color, but she didn’t back down as she held his stare. “I mean it, Riley.”
He knew he was tempting fate, but he was too damn tired to care anymore. After everything that had happened that day, he just wanted to be with her someplace where they could tune out the world, the chaos, for a night. Just one goddamn bloody night, and have it all to themselves.
“If I’m gonna put out,” he drawled, “then I want you upstairs this time. In your bed.”
“You’ll get no arguments from me,” she quickly replied, the excitement in those breathless words melting him down, making him want to hold her…cherish her. Shower her with the things that she’d always deserved, but had never been given.
His grin faded and he reached across the space between them, cupping her jaw as he rubbed his thumb into the corner of her mouth. “I barely held myself together this morning,” he admitted in a husky rasp, fascinated by the lush, petallike softness of her lips. “I won’t be able to control it this time.”
Her mouth moved beneath his touch, curving into a
sensual smile. “I’m not asking you to control anything, Ri. Whatever you’re willing to give me, I’ll take.”
“Hope, about this morning…”
She rushed to cut him off, whispering, “You don’t have to say any—”
“I shouldn’t have just walked out on you,” he grunted. “It was a dickhead thing to do and I’m sorry.”
“You can make it up to me when we get upstairs,” she said over her shoulder, already climbing out of the car.
Following behind her, Riley kept his silence until she’d unlocked the back door, and they were standing in the shadowed living room, the rain pattering softly against the windows. He drew in a deep breath of her warm, mouthwatering scent, and then moved up behind her as she hung her jacket over the banister of the staircase. Curving his hands around her shoulders, he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to the corner of her jaw, loving the soft, whispery sigh that she made. He didn’t want to pop the bubble that surrounded them…the easy camaraderie they’d shared in the car after the chaos of the day, but he had to be honest with her…at least about this. Had to make sure that she understood exactly what was going to happen.
“I’ll take your blood this time,” he warned her, putting the dark, graveled words into the curve of her throat. He touched his tongue to the sensitive flesh, and she gave a soft, trembling moan, as if the thought excited her as much as it did him. “I won’t be able to stop it. To fight it back.”
“I
KNOW
.” H
OPE’S VOICE
was soft…thick. “I don’t want you to fight anything.”
He released his hold on her then, following behind her as she made her way up the stairs. It felt like a ceremonial rite, leading him to her bedroom in the heavy, breath-filled silence, as if the moment were rich with meaning. One that Hope realized had been such a long time coming, after years of hunger and pain and grief. Of longing and aching.
When they reached her bedroom, he locked the door behind him, resetting the sensors that Kellan had installed while she made her way to the side of the four-poster bed, flicking the lamp onto its lowest setting. Only a soft, hazy glow of light spilled across the snowy expanse of linens, not even reaching into the shadowed corners. It was a sensual, seductive setting, and she could hardly control the tremors of excitement prickling beneath her skin, wanting nothing more than to launch herself at him, taking him to the floor.
He stared at her from across the room, his eyes dark…intense, as if he were imprinting the moment on his brain, and then he came toward her, moving with a purely male, predatory purpose. When he reached her, he took her face in his rough, callused hands, and then he kissed her. Covered her lips with the rich, delicious heat of his mouth, and she melted…shivering, wanting so much, so badly, it felt as if the need was going to shatter her into a million pieces. Burst out of her in a bright, blinding light of pleasure. Pulling his soft linen
shirt from his jeans, Hope attacked the endless row of buttons, undoing them with shaky, trembling fingers while he threaded his hands through her hair, holding her still for the hot, devastating demands of his mouth. When she finished with the last button, he broke the kiss and stepped back, pulling off the jacket and holster, placing them on the antique chest that sat against the wall.
“Oh, God, wait,” she whispered, holding up her hands for him to stop when he started to move toward her again. “Don’t move, okay? Just stand there for a minute and let me look at you.”
A low, embarrassed rumble of laughter vibrated in his chest, but he stood still, hands hanging loose at his sides, and let her look her fill. She pulled her bottom lip through her teeth, thinking he was just too freaking good to be real. The pose could have been made into a poster that sold millions, it was so gorgeous and rugged and male. She loved the way that the snowy white shirt hung open over his mouthwatering chest. Like a purely masculine work of art, it was sculpted with hard, flat muscles, his nipples small and dark against the golden beauty of his skin. And those abs. God, the man was nothing but stark lines and raw, harnessed power just waiting to be unleashed. Tall and broad and perfectly proportioned. She loved the dark, silky trail of hair that arrowed down from his navel, into the low-hanging jeans. Loved the hard, heavy bulge of his cock beneath the worn denim. Loved the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides, the veins
beneath his golden skin snaking up the strong muscle and sinew of forearms revealed by the rolled-up cuffs on his sleeves.
Unable to wait any longer, wanting to see all of that hard body in the raw, Hope moved forward and pushed the shirt off his broad shoulders, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of the black, swirling tattoos that covered his left bicep and shoulder. “They’re beautiful,” she whispered, touching the intricate pattern with her fingertips, before lifting her gaze, falling into the searing heat of his stare. “You’re beautiful.”
He groaned, the low, graveled sound somehow tortured, and then he was against her, all over her, pulling off the sweater she wore over a champagne-colored camisole, opening her jeans…pushing them down her legs so that she could kick them away.
“Do you want this off?” she asked, plucking at the clingy camisole, unable to ignore the niggling thread of suspicion that told her he’d left her in that particle item of clothing on purpose.
He shook his head, his dark gaze sliding away, and her stomach cramped. Though there were several pale, jagged lines on her arms and legs, the worst of her scars were the ones on her torso. The ones he’d left covered. “I get that I’m not perfect,” she whispered, hating the tremor of insecurity in the soft words, knowing he could hear it, too. “If you want, we can just turn out the light.”
“C
HRIST, IT’S NOT THAT
,” Riley breathed out, catching her face in his hands as he stared into the glistening depths of her eyes. Other than that one time in the kitchen when he’d touched her stomach, he’d purposefully avoided her scars, knowing that they would fire his rage…his fury, the powerful emotions simply channeling back to the Merrick, when he’d been trying so hard to keep it under control. Even now, he couldn’t bring himself to touch the jagged scars in the ways that he wanted. Pressing his lips to them. Trying to heal them with his…
No, damn it. Don’t go there. You can’t.
Shying away from the dangerous territory of that particular thought, he said, “You have to know how beautiful I think you are. Every part of you, Hope. I wouldn’t change a single thing, except to take those scars away. To erase their existence. Not because of how they look, but because of what they represent. Because of what you went through. The pain. The loss.”
She blinked, trying to smile, but he could still see the shadow of doubt darkening her gaze. Knowing he needed to make her understand, he leaned closer, wanting her to see the truth burning in his eyes as he said, “I want you, Hope. Every part of you. In ways I’ve never wanted anyone or anything. But the idea of you hurt. Bleeding. Of what that bastard did to you. It’s going to push me somewhere you don’t want me to go. Not when you’re here with me. Alone.”
And just like that, he could see her doubts give way
beneath a wave of indignation. “I’m not afraid of you, Riley.”
“You should be,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. “Christ, even I’m afraid of what’s inside me, baby.”
“Well, I’m not,” she snapped, the disgruntled words bringing the grin back to his face, managing to soften his fear.
“In that case,” he rasped, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, “you’d better get your sweet ass on that bed before I have at you right here.”
Breathing deeply, Riley couldn’t take his eyes off her as she hurried to do as he’d said, settling on her knees in the center of all that innocent-looking linen and lace, her long hair streaming over her pale shoulders, his fantasy woman come to life. Pulling off his shoes and jeans, he took out a condom and laid it on the antique bedside table, then jerked his chin toward her, his voice nothing more than a husky scrape of sound as he said, “Lose the panties. Then lie back and spread your legs for me.”
Heat burned in her face, but she didn’t hesitate…didn’t balk. Riley could see her excitement…her own sharp, urgent desire in the racing of her pulse at the base of her delicate throat. Hear it in the rushing cadence of her breath. Feel it shimmering from her in warm, incandescent waves that blasted against him as she pulled down the small panties, throwing them over the side of the bed. The heat of her burned through his guard, his masks, until there was nothing but the raging, desper
ate need to be a part of her storming through his body, pounding through his veins.
Stepping out of his boxers, he heard her breath catch as she got her first look at him…at the dark, thick, brutal-looking evidence of just how badly he wanted her. It sounded as if there was a smile in her soft voice as she said, “Good God, Riley,” but he couldn’t take his eyes off the breathtaking perfection between her thighs long enough to look at her face. The instant she’d spread her legs for him, revealing her damp, glistening, candy-pink center, he’d been caught…unable to look away. She was…perfect. Swollen and wet and unbearably pretty. Tender and smooth and delicate. The most exquisite thing he’d ever seen, and he couldn’t wait to get his mouth on her.
Crawling up on the bed, Riley moved between her shyly parted thighs and grasped her behind her knees. Her breath caught, as he forced her knees out wider…higher, opening her all the way up, so that he could see every slippery, intimate pink detail. He made a thick sound of lust, unable to wait a second more.
“Keep them right there,” he growled, using his thumbs to separate her plump folds as he bent down and took a hot, hungry lick with his tongue. She arched beneath him as if a jolt of electricity had shot through her body, a sharp, shocked sound breaking out of her chest while he lost himself in her, his pulse roaring in his ears like the crashing surf. Greedy for every part of her, Riley swirled his tongue over her…inside her,
dipping into the honeyed sweetness, her taste so perfect…so addictive, it was as if she’d been made for him. He couldn’t get enough as he thrust his tongue deep, then lapped…licking…rubbing it against her small, tightly knotted clit. He could have lingered there in that drenched, silken paradise forever if he’d had the time, but the urgent throbbing in his cock was too demanding, insisting that he bury himself inside her, as soon as humanly possible. But he couldn’t stop until he’d tasted her pleasure. Until he’d felt that intense, gushing rush of energy pouring through her, spilling into his mouth.
“God, Riley, I can’t take it,” she moaned, trembling beneath him. “It’s too much. Too…good.”
“Just remember to breathe,” he told her, his voice a husky, graveled rasp. “If you pass out, then you’re going to miss what comes next. And it’s the best part.”