Spark of Intent

by Harper Wylde

  My heart squeezed in my chest, grateful for Killian’s foresight. My bunny always looked after me. He grinned as he read my thoughts, and I smiled until he lowered me so the tip of his cock teased at my entrance. Biting my lip, my full concentration flew to where we were about to connect.

  Letting go of me, he lifted his arms, resting them above his head. Having such a strong, virile man at my command was a powerful thing, and I slowly lowered myself onto his cock. The stretch of him was hard to take at first, but the more I eased down, the more the feelings blossomed into delicious heat. Killian’s pleasure shot through the line toward me and we all groaned.

  I lifted myself off his hard length before I lowered once more, taking more of him into my body. Setting a slow, seductive pace, I fed off the desire I created in Killian. Knowing I was making him feel good made my heart soar. Every muscle in his body strained as he kept his hands to himself, the muscles of his stomach rippling as he tried to keep still.

  Touch yourself, sweetheart. Damien nearly begged, his own breathlessness evident. Make yourself come on Killian for me.

  Killian groaned as I shifted to sit up. I rocked my hips over him as I trailed my hand down my stomach, following orders. His gaze followed, watching as my fingers darted down over my clit, circling it the way I liked. Those sexy green eyes of his were riveted on every movement I made as I aroused myself even more, feeling beautiful and dominant when he tensed under me as my pussy fluttered over his thickness. The thrill of turning him on—of increasing his longing for me—brought me right to the edge, and I finally let my fingers make direct contact with the center of my pleasure while my other hand cupped a breast, pinching and rolling my nipple. Tipping my head back, I cried out unabashedly—claiming my own release. My pussy spasmed over Killian, causing him to release a guttural groan as he held himself back, and Damien moaned with us.

  As much as I loved the control that this position provided, I wanted Killian’s hands on my body. I wanted him to find his own release.

  Touch her, Killian. She needs it. Damien growled.

  Killian’s hands landed back on my body and his jaw clenched as his hands played over my bare skin. “If it’s too much…”

  “I’ll tell you. Now shut up and fuck me Killian.” He groaned, gripping my hips and pulling my body up only to slam me back down onto his cock. I keened as he increased the pace, rocking me over his body with a vicious growl. My pussy gripped him tightly as he fucked me, and I braced my hands on his pecs, nails digging into his flesh as I held on for the ride.

  Damien’s pleasure joined ours, hot and thick in our connection. Tilt her hips. Drive her higher.

  Killian obeyed, shifting our bodies and changing the angle. Thrusting up into me, Killian canted his hips over and over again and I cried out at the new sensation, my pussy pulsing over Killian as blind, raging need swamped me.

  “That’s it, baby. Come for me.”

  Come for us, Damien added, pushing me closer to the edge at the image of him touching himself in time to our punishing rhythm.

  The frisson of skin against skin set me on fire as each pump brushed my g-spot. Spiraling higher, my muscles shook as satisfaction crashed through me. Killian roared, the sharp spike of his release sending me careening into another orgasm as I floated down from the clouds.

  Settling me into the bed, Killian pulled away briefly to clean up. I savored every last thurm of pleasure, drifting in a haze of bliss, and my muscles felt liquified as I cuddled into Killian when he rejoined me under the covers. He pulled me closer to his side, and I laid across his chest, enjoying his warmth and the love that radiated toward me through our now quiet connection.

  Even though no words were said, I was sated and complete in a way I’d never been before.

  Thirty-Four

  Nix

  I paced in my room, my footsteps soft in my stockinged feet as I flipped from drawing to drawing. Color shapes that formed semblances of pictures covered the canvas, and Killian had been right. Having him make me physical reproductions of the nightmares in my head did help to arrange the pieces, just not enough to clear the fog surrounding what had happened to me. I stared at the swirls of red and the obvious form of a person on the ground.

  My hands shook as I was once again reminded about my involvement in taking a life. Nausea flooded my stomach, and I swallowed the rising bile back down my throat as I worked to subdue the feelings again.

  It was self defense, Nix. She was hurting you, and your Phoenix rose to protect you. We all share in the blame for what happened. Damien’s soothing voice helped to ground me and my heart rate slowly returned to normal as he stayed with me—connected telepathically even though we weren’t in the same room.

  Where are you? I asked, stacking the paintings—hiding the one with Mrs. Stone from view—and slipping into the hallway to go searching for my Gargoyle.

  Amusement passed through our connection and I smiled. The kitchen. Where else?

  Scents of vanilla and sugar greeted me as I walked down the stairs, arching an eyebrow at a hunched over Damien as he worked on his latest creation.

  “More cookies?” Flour, food coloring, and balls of cookie dough covered the counters in organized chaos.

  “I like to bake.” He shrugged but didn’t look up to make eye contact with me. Strange. Putting my things down in the dining room, I entered the kitchen and sidled up to Damien who was decorating cookies to look like different colored spiders.

  “True. I know you do. But Damien, you object to Ryder’s orange juice, or pop tarts, or waffles. So, what’s with all the cookies?” I stared sadly at the desert, realizing that my line of questions would probably lead to these delicacies disappearing. Popping one in my mouth, I moaned at the way the sugar cookie melted on my tongue. “Not that I object to sweets in the house,” I quickly amended.

  His hands paused in their decorating as he thought through my question. Without answering, he went back to piping chocolate spiders on top of an orange colored sugar cookie in honor of Halloween—which happened to be the same night as the Gala. Personally, I didn’t mind the choice of date for the Gala. I just didn’t want to go at all. Ryder, on the other hand, had been pouting about the date choice—wishing we could all dress up and do something fun for the occasion. I’d tried to remind him that we were dressing up—albeit formally—but that only elicited more grumbles about missed opportunities for group costumes, candy, and dressing me up into something wildly inappropriate.

  “It helps me think.” Setting a cookie aside, D went to pick up another one, and I reached out to stay his hand.

  “Talk to me, Damien. I’ve given you ample amounts of time. We all have. Don’t you think we’ve all walked on egg shells enough? No more secrets, remember?”

  Dark hair hung over his forehead as he braced his hands on the counter and closed his eyes, letting out a long exhale.

  Talk to me. Please, I pushed at him mentally as I ran a hand down his back and over the soft fabric of his white t-shirt. He looked amazing in white, the color contrasting with the natural golden hue of his skin. His muscles tensed under my hands as he finally opened up.

  “He knew him, Nix.”

  “I know. You told me as much already. I just don’t understand what that means.”

  “I don’t either.” He spun, and I stepped back as he leaned against the counter, digging his hands into his dark brown hair. “All I know is that it means that in some way, my father had a direct association with your life. All the abuse you suffered, all the pain you went through, all the death… the… the foster homes.” He barely got the last line out, and I wrapped my arms around my stomach as he spoke, holding myself together. Pain overtook his features and tears pricked behind my eyes, threatening to fall for both of us.

  My voice was nearly a whisper as I responded, “None of that is even close to your fault, Damien.”

  “What if he knew… about you I mean? What if my father knew, and all this time this girl…” He trailed off as his eyes
searched mine. “—my girl was suffering at the hands of some sadistic asshole who not only abused her but was waiting for her to shift so he could drain her dry and sell her blood. And if he did know, what kind of person does that make him?”

  My nausea rolled though my stomach again, and this time I couldn’t stop the churning, sick feeling it caused. “You don’t know that he knew about any of this. It could have been a coincidence.”

  “It wasn’t. It sounded like… like they’d hired Michael.”

  Everything about Damien looked tortured, and I unwound my arms, reaching for him.

  “Even if they did, they didn’t know about me. Your dad couldn’t have known.” I squeezed his muscular bicep, trying to make sure he knew I wasn’t pulling away from him.

  “How do you know that?” He side-stepped out of my touch—refusing to take my comfort—and frustration burned through my body. I bit my lip so hard that I nearly drew blood, but I decided to plow ahead and say what needed said, whether it upset him or not.

  “Because, Damien… If the Council knew about me, they never would have left me with him. If they knew about me, they would have whisked me to Alaska so fast and raised me in that Lodge, taking away my free will and molding me into a perfect little breeding machine that would produce them more precious phoenix whether I was mated or not—apparently.” My voice raised as I made sure I got my point across.

  “Fuck.” He dropped his hands, his posture deflating.

  “And we could have pointed this out if you would have just talked to us. Instead, you’ve been baking and blocking us out.” Done with my tyrade, I stepped down from my metaphorical soap box, also deflating. We stared at each other across the kitchen, and my heart broke when I saw my big, protective Gargoyle with a glimmer of wetness in his eyes.

  “I thought I would lose you. That you would reject me because my family’s apparent link with your past.”

  I stepped toward him and crossed into his personal space as I placed a hand over his heart. “You’re not going to lose me. Even if your father was involved in some nefarious plan of Michael’s, that doesn’t meant that you were. You had nothing to do with any of it. I take you right where you are, Damien Lacroix. As you are. Not because of or in spite of your family. I care about you because of who you are. Protective, caring, loving, kind, sexy as fuck, a good friend, a good son…” I tipped my head to catch his eyes, “ … a leader. A brother. The glue that holds us together. You matter to me because of who you are, not where or who you come from. Just like you accept me despite my background and flaws.”

  He crushed me to his chest, his tension melting away as he held me. Dipping his head, he buried his face into my hair, breathing me in as he relaxed.

  “Nix.” His feelings of love and acceptance radiated through our link and I pulled myself impossibly closer to him, hoping he was picking up on mine as well.

  “Between my mental walls, your need to keep to yourself, and Ciarán’s absurd ability to remember and project every annoying song that has ever been created, we’ve been a bit disconnected.”

  “I want you to know you can come and talk to me—to any of us—about your feelings.”

  “I don’t trust them, Damien. I’ve been… unsure… for a long time.” Loosening his grip, he studied my face.

  “I know. I knew about the nightmares you were having, and now—more than anything—I wish I’d confronted you about them. I was trying to give you space, let you come to us, but you never did. Then you went off by yourself…” He let the rest of his statement hang. We both knew the devastating results of that bad decision. “Why didn’t you come talk to us about your concerns? We would have listened.”

  “I wasn’t sure you would give them credence. Your families are all so intermingled in the shifter world, and some are even on the Council. And I’m just—” I trailed off.

  “You’re just the most important girl in the world to us. We care about you, Nix. More than you know. Yes, our families are important to us, they always will be, but this new family we’re creating? This is our future. If you have concerns, you come to us.”

  Swallowing hard, I nodded.

  “Tell me the rest. Before you were taken… what were your concerns?”

  He ran his hands up and down my arms, waiting for me to divulge my worries to him. Now that I knew I had their support, it was easier to incriminate the Council.

  I sighed, letting it all rush out of me in sentences that barely broke up. “They value death and keeping their ‘subjects’ in line through fear. I’m pretty sure they gave me something the night of the party at Ishida’s. I’ve never gone into heat before, and while I have no proof, it seems like too much of a coincidence to overlook. Plus, I fucking hate the way they’re trying so hard to keep us apart.”

  “I know.”

  I gaped. “You… had the same concerns?” My jaw was literally hanging open like a fish. I’d always thought Damien held the Council in high regard. The fact that he had been questioning them the same as I had been warmed my heart and equally left me speechless. I could picture some of the other guys having their questioning moments, but Damien had been groomed for the Council the same as his father and grandfather. He couldn’t have surprised me more if he’d jumped out of the fridge wearing a pink tutu and bunny slippers.

  His shoulders began to shake and soon he was losing himself to roarous laughter which, in turn, made me giggle.

  “That was quite a visual.” He smirked at me as he composed himself again, wiping at his eyes. The laughter had been good for us, breaking the tension that sat thick in the room. “I know that the Council’s ideals and way of ruling aren’t always right. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to get away and go to college, to get out from under their roof and their watchful eyes. If you ask any one of us, you’ll get the same answer. College was a much needed means of escape for us. I’ve been groomed to take over my father’s place on the Council someday, and I know they want to use me as another pawn in their political game. It’s how they work, bringing high ranking mythologicals and those with beneficial powers into their inner fold. Their practices of late, however, have been leaving me unsettled—especially where you’re concerned.”

  “It’s all just so fucked up. I don’t agree with it, Damien. The way they treat people, how controlling they are. I just know they’re underhanded and shady as fuck. I’ve been trying to visualize a way that I could fit into this word, but I don’t feel safe. I didn’t before I was kidnapped, and I certainly don’t now. I mean… how are we even supposed to be together in this world when everything is trying to keep us apart?”

  Damien pressed his lips to my forehead, brushing a light kiss over my skin. “We will find a way to be together. I promise you that. I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know what we’re going to find at the Gala, or what the future holds, but I do know one thing. We’ll be together, sweetheart—as long as you’ll have us. I’ve never felt like this, Nix. You mean the whole damn world to me.”

  Russet brown eyes met mine as I gazed up at my Gargoyle. Pressing up on my tiptoes, I nuzzled my nose with his, moving closer until I could place a small kiss on his bottom lip, hoping to entice him to bend down closer to my level to deepen it.

  “I won’t fucking lose you, sweetheart,” he murmured against my mouth just before he sealed his promise with a kiss. Damien didn’t do anything half-heartedly, and the way he claimed my mouth was no exception. The bar of his arm wrapped tighter around my back as he lifted me up into him, walking me backward until I felt the cool granite of the kitchen countertop under my bare thighs—my pajama shorts doing precious little to keep me warm against the cool intrusion. It didn’t matter, however, because as soon as I was sitting, my Gargoyle was leaning over me, bracing a hand on either side of my body—palms flat on the counter—as he latched his lips onto mine once again.

  In a bold move, I widened my legs, granting him better access to my body as his tongue ran over my lips, prompting me to open and let him plunde
r my mouth. I followed his lead, his demand clear even when he wasn’t speaking. Memories of the night before assaulted me, warming my body as I remembered the way he joined Killian and me in the bedroom—even if it was just mentally. I wanted him with a passion I couldn’t explain.

  Scooting closer to the end of the counter, I pressed my center against his, the height of the countertop aligning us perfectly.

  “Nix.” The molten sound of my name made me sigh against his mouth, and I chose to ignore the edge of warning he’d infused into the word as I enticed him to kiss me again.

  When he went to pull away again, I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth, letting it go with a pop and an arched brow as he leaned back. It didn’t escape my notice that he kept his hips pressed into mine, only allowing so much space between us as he leveled me with a look that I didn’t want to decipher.

  “Nix—” He tried again, this time more serious in his tone, and I shushed him.

  “No more talking. The time for talking is over.” I pulled on his shirt, trying to bring him back to me. He had the nerve to chuckle at my efforts.

  “You’re not ready for me.” He shut his eyes tightly as I stopped and leaned back. “Don’t tempt me or I’m bound to lose control.”

  Since his eyes were closed, he didn’t see my smirk, and I reached quickly for the hem of my shirt, pulling it deftly over my head.

  Dropping his head, he groaned without ever opening his eyes. “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you woman?”

  I smiled and ran my hands over his chest, exploring the dips and lines through the fabric of his t-shirt.

  “Why are you pulling away?” I arched my hips into his, feeling the obvious effect of his desire for me.

  “I’m too much for you right now. The things I need… I refuse to push you, Nix. You need slow and steady, and I’m not that.”

  My body instantly reacted to his words, wanting the things they promised as I read between the lines. I couldn’t deny that I did have triggers, but all the guys were opening me up to the joys of sex, breathing new life into me and giving me new amazing memories to hold onto in place of the bad ones. I wasn’t sure they’d ever understand how much that meant to me. It didn’t mean my past disappeared or lessen the effect it had on me, but it did help me look toward the future. A future I wanted to share with them.