TWISTED (Eternal Guardians Book 7)

by Elisabeth Naughton

  Another chill spread down her spine, but this one had nothing to do with the temperature. Hand shaking, she reached out to him. “Nick, just let me—”

  “No.” He twisted away from her touch. “Just go. I’m not in a good place. And I don’t want to…hurt you…when it happens.”

  Her heart pounded hard in her chest. No, she wasn’t giving him up to Zagreus without a fight. And Nick wasn’t getting rid of her that easily. Not after everything they’d been through.

  She gripped his arm before he could get two steps away. “I’m not letting you give up like that.”

  He whirled on her so fast, she barely saw him. His hands closed around her biceps until pain shot up her arms. But it was quickly overshadowed when he slammed her back against the side of the building, her spine and skull cracking the worn bricks.

  “You think this is giving up?” He loomed over her, malice and rage and darkness swirling inside him to twist his features until he didn’t look like her Nick anymore but someone who was…possessed. “I don’t have a fucking choice in this. I never did.” He squeezed her arms so hard, her eyes watered and her mouth fell open in a silent scream. Then he released her and turned away. “Get the hell away from me while you still have a chance.”

  Cynna gasped as the pain slowly receded, and rubbed her arms to ease the sting. Looking up, she watched Nick move toward the back of the alley, his shoulders shaking, his body barely holding it together as he put space between them. It was happening. He was about to break. And as soon as that happened, Zagreus would undoubtedly appear to claim his prize. He was right; she needed to run before it was too late.

  But she couldn’t. Because whether he knew it or not, he’d brought her back from the brink of self-destruction. And she wasn’t about to let him travel down that same path.

  She caught up with him and stepped right in his path. He drew to a stop and glared at her, his once mesmerizing amber eyes now nothing but hard cold pools of black. Just like Zagreus’s. Swallowing back the fear curling into a hot knot in her throat, she lifted her chin. “Focus on me.”

  He growled and turned the other direction, but she rushed around him and stepped in his way again.

  “Look at me. Stay with me.”

  His eyes slammed shut. He shook his head as if trying to rattle something loose. Pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyelids.

  “Listen to the sound of my voice, Nick.”

  He stumbled back. His body shook. His hands slid over his forehead until his fingers wrapped around the ends of his hair, pulling tight. Sweat slid down his temple. “Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Here.”

  “No,” she said softly, stepping closer, knowing she needed to stay calm if she had any hope of pulling him out of this. “I’m not going anywhere. I said I’d stay with you, and I am. Focus on me. Just me. No one else.”

  His back hit the building. His legs sagged. His body shook harder.

  She needed to reach him on a physical level. Knew he needed that connection, as he had before.

  She stepped between his legs and framed his face with her hands. His skin was cold and clammy, but this time, he didn’t push her away. And she focused on that rather than the way he trembled beneath her touch. “I won’t let you fall. I’m right here. They can’t have you. Do you hear me? I’m not letting go.”

  His head fell forward until his forehead rested against hers. Against the wall, his shoulders shook, and his chest rose and fell with his shallow breaths as he fought that wicked darkness inside, struggling with every labored breath.

  “Leave me,” he rasped.

  She tightened her fingers against his jaw. “Not a chance. You’re mine.”

  A growl rumbled from his chest, and in a sudden move, he lifted his head and closed his mouth over hers.

  She sucked in a surprised breath, then moaned as he pushed away from the wall, yanked her body against his, and devoured her mouth.

  Warmth spread through her veins, ignited a burn deep in her core. She slid her hands down his shoulders and around his arms, needing him, wanting every part of him.

  His fingers cut into her hipbones, sending a jolt of pain across her sides, but she ignored it. Instead focused on the bruising demand of his mouth, the way his tongue raced along hers, the sinful heat of his body. But before she’d tasted her fill, he pulled away from her mouth, whipped her around, then shoved her up against the wall, face-first.

  Her hands slapped the cold bricks. The air rushed out of her lungs. He kicked her legs wide with his feet, pressed his hard body up against her back, and closed his teeth over her earlobe until she flinched. “I gave you the chance to leave. Now you’re going to wish you’d listened.”

  Her heart pounded against her ribs. Her body trembled with both anticipation and a hint of apprehension. But she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. Not really. And if this was what he needed to stay focused so the darkness didn’t claim him, she’d let him do whatever he wanted to her. Give him anything he asked for.

  She spread her fingers against the bricks and pushed back into him. “I won’t. I’m not afraid of you.”

  His hand rushed around her belly, then up under her tank. His hot fingers streaked across her abs, grasped the cup of her bra, and jerked it down. The strap cut into her shoulder, and she pressed her lips together against the pain, then his fingers found her nipple and squeezed hard, making her cry out from the sudden jolt.

  “You should be. You should be very afraid. What’s inside me is a thousand times more evil than what’s in him.”

  He was talking about Zagreus. But he was wrong. He was strength and honor and compassion. He’d shown that to her more times than she could count. Zagreus wasn’t any of those things. And until Krónos’s dark energy claimed Nick for good, she’d do whatever she could to prove that fact to him.

  She bit into her lip hard to keep from whimpering as he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, as he jerked the other side of her bra down and tormented the other breast. Yes, it hurt. But the shock of that initial pressure was more painful than the actual act. The longer he rolled and tweaked and twisted, the faster her pulse raced. And the stronger the tingles grew that were suddenly shooting from her breasts straight between her legs.

  Her sex grew hot and achy, her body tight and eager. She pushed back into him, feeling his strong thighs against the backs of her legs and his hard erection pressing into her spine. Dropping her forehead against the wall, she struggled to find her voice. “I’m…I’m not going to fight you, Nick.”

  “Oh, you will.” He released her nipple, closed his whole hand around her breast, and squeezed until pain lit up the entire mass. His other hand pulled free of her bra. He grasped her skirt at her thigh, hiking it up until cold air washed over her legs. Then he shoved his hand between her thighs, gripped her panties, and ripped.

  She jerked in surprise, but then his fingers were sliding along her folds, sending tingles through every cell in her body, and she couldn’t hold back the moan that rumbled from her throat.

  “You like that?” he growled near her ear.

  She closed her eyes and rocked back against him, wanting more. “Yes.”

  He stroked up, then down, his fingers creating a delicious friction that made her entire body shiver. “Like this?”

  Oh gods… “Y-yes.”

  He thrust up inside her with two fingers, and she gasped. “You like being used?” His voice was hard. Cold. Cruel. Nothing she recognized. His fingers slid out, then drove back in, and his thumb circled her clit. “Is this what you did for Zagreus? Let him fuck you in a back alley like a whore?”

  His ugly words dimmed her pleasure, and her eyes popped open, her gut reaction to lash out, to tell him to go to hell. But she didn’t. Because she knew he’d had plenty of opportunities to say just that before and mean it, only he hadn’t. Which meant this wasn’t him. It was that vile piece of Krónos inside pushing him to hurt her, to make her fight back, to force her to run so it could finally claim him.<
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  She swallowed hard and rocked back against his hand. Still not willing—never willing—to let the gods have him. “Not him, only you. I only want you. Don’t stop.”

  He thrust deeper with his fingers, harder. And his voice grew even more menacing when he growled, “You want to get fucked? Is that what you want?”

  She knew she’d probably be sore tomorrow, likely bruised, but she didn’t care. Because this was too important. “Yes,” she groaned, leaning back against him. “Yes. By you.”

  He released her breast, grasped her skirt at the back, and jerked it up. Cool air swept over the backs of her legs, then denim brushed across her bare ass as he ground the rigid length of his cock against her. “You’re a wicked little slut, aren’t you?”

  For you. Only for you.

  Her fingers curled against the wall as he continued to fuck into her with his hand. Pleasure zinged along her nerve endings. He was stroking that perfect place deep inside, driving her harder toward the crest. His thumb flicked her clit again and again. His hips pressed against her ass, his cock rubbing right between her cheeks. It was wrong…so wrong…to be enjoying this, but she couldn’t help it. Because with him, she enjoyed everything—hard, rough, soft, sweet—it didn’t matter how. It didn’t matter when. It just mattered that it was with him.

  She dropped her head back against his shoulder, couldn’t hold it up, couldn’t do anything but let him take her wherever he wanted to go. “Nick… Oh gods. Nick…”

  He bit down hard on her earlobe, and the mixture of pleasure and pain shoved her over the edge. Her entire body was swept up in a whirlwind of light and ecstasy so intense, it stole her breath, shook her body, and dragged her straight into a tunnel of utter blackness.

  When she came to, her face was pressed against the building, her chest rising and falling with her shallow breaths. Her mind was foggy, her body limp. But she recognized Nick still pressed up against her back, his forehead resting against her temple, his hot breath rushing down her neck. Yet more than anything, she knew his voice. His voice—not that angry, ugly thing that had been growling in her ear only moments before. This was his soft, familiar voice whispering her name over and over as she clawed herself back from a climax so strong she’d blacked out.

  She was wrecked, dazed, wanted only to rest. But she didn’t know how long his lucidity would last, and more than anything, she needed to drag him back to her for good.

  Pushing away from the wall, she turned so she was facing him, then lifted her fingers to his scruffy jaw. Her skirt fell to her feet. Her jacket was torn at the shoulder, but she didn’t care. She focused only on him. On his hands braced on either side of her, on his forehead resting on her shoulder. His body trembled as if he were dazed too, but strength simmered beneath his rigid muscles, just waiting to be unleashed. And she feared this was only the eye of the storm. That if she didn’t do something fast, she’d lose him for good.

  “Nick.” She lifted his face away from her shoulder, pressed her mouth against the scar on his cheek, trailed her lips to his temple, then his nose, then the corner of his mouth. “Stay with me. I’ve got you. I’m not letting go. No matter what happens. Focus only on me.”

  She kissed his other cheek, his jaw, worked her way back to his mouth.

  He stiffened against her. “Shit. Cynna.”

  “Yes.” Gently, she kissed his lips. “Say my name. As many times as it takes. I’m not letting them have you.” She tipped her head the other direction, kissed him again. “I won’t let you fall. I won’t ever let you fall.”

  A growl built low in his throat, and every muscle in his body tensed. And as he opened his mouth over hers, pushing his tongue forcefully between her lips and shoving her back into the wall again, she steeled herself for another wave of anger, of malevolence, of dark, viscous energy.

  “Don’t go too far. I may need you…”

  He did need her. Not because she was special, not because she was his soul mate. But because they were alike. They understood each other. They’d both danced with the devil, and she was determined to make sure they both survived.

  She opened to his bruising kiss, dragged her tongue against his even though she knew he was trying to hurt her again, and kissed him back. Trailing her fingers up into his hair, she tugged hard on the soft strands between her fingertips and met his kiss with the same ferocity, the same energy, the same strength he was showering on her. And the moment she did, something inside him shifted.

  She felt it pop, like a balloon exploding. Felt it ripple all through his limbs. His muscles instantly relaxed. His kiss gentled. Against her belly he was still hard and aroused, but the anger that had been driving him—the savagery—it dissipated like water evaporating into air. And was replaced by a wave of heat and hunger and need she felt all the way to her toes.

  “Cynna…” His hand slipped around her nape; his fingertips softly rubbed her skin as he kissed her, again and again. His voice grew weak, strained, but was filled with a panicked urgency, as if he were afraid he was going to lose her. “Cynna…”

  Her heart swelled. She wound her hands around his waist and walked her fingers up his spine, gentling her own kiss, showing him with her mouth and body that she felt the same way, that she still wasn’t leaving. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Don’t stop kissing me, Nick.”

  One hand closed around her breast to squeeze, and his tongue tangled with hers in an erotic dance. But it wasn’t the hard bruising grasp of before. This was softer, more electrifying, and tingles ignited all through her torso and shot straight back down into her sex, reigniting every ounce of her arousal. Grasping her skirt at the thigh, he dragged it up again, then carefully lifted her leg and hooked it around his hip.

  “Cynna…” He rocked against her and dropped his forehead to hers, struggling to find his breath while his hard length rubbed over her clit. “Ah gods, Cynna… I need to be inside you.”

  He was asking, not telling. His thumb brushed over her nipple, sending shards of desire straight into her core. Giving, not taking. Her heart swelled even more because he was back. She hadn’t lost him. He was still hers.

  “Yes.” She lifted her mouth to his and kissed him slowly, deeply, then reached for the button at his waistband and popped it free. “Yes, I need that too. But mostly, I just need you.”

  She slid her hand inside his pants. He groaned and sank into her kiss. As her fingertips brushed over his pulsing length, so hard and engorged, she pushed against the fabric at his hips, desperate to free him so she could feel him moving inside her.

  He lifted his mouth from hers abruptly. Fear rushed back in, that she’d misread things, that he was still on the edge. But he didn’t grab her or push her or even reach for her. Instead, he turned his face toward the entrance to the alley and went completely still.

  “What—”

  “Shh.”

  Her fingers froze inside his pants, the other hand against his hip, and she turned to see what he was looking at. Only she couldn’t see anything but the fading afternoon light. And she didn’t hear anything other than her roaring pulse and his shallow breaths.

  “Nick?”

  He stepped quickly away, dislodging her hands from his body, then lowered her leg and dropped her skirt. Buttoning his jeans, he said, “Someone’s coming.”

  Cynna didn’t care if someone was approaching or not. “I don’t hear anything.” She reached for him. “Come here.”

  “Shh.” Gently, he pushed her hands away. “Fix your shirt. They’re almost here.”

  Frustrated, Cynna pushed away from the wall and tugged down her shirt, hating the chill that spread over her skin after all his delicious heat. He wasn’t looking at her. She needed him to look at her. “Nick—”

  “I’m pretty sure he went this way,” a voice called somewhere close.

  Skata. Her gaze shot to the right. He was right. People were coming. Stomach tightening, Cynna stepped away from the wall and tried to smooth out her skirt. But Nick’s hand
around her arm stopped her.

  She drew in a breath and looked up. His eyes were warm pools of liquid amber as he moved in close, cradled her face in his hands, then lowered his mouth to hers in the sweetest, softest kiss. And every bit of fear, of frustration, of worry slid right out of her with that simple brush of his lips over hers.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. “I know what you did.” He rested his forehead against hers and drew in a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry I can’t control it. Sorry I did that to you. I—”

  “Shh.” She lifted her fingers to his jaw and brushed them over his scruffy cheek. “No apologies. I’m not hurt. Not even close. And I meant what I said. I’m not leaving. I’ll do whatever it takes—as many times as it takes—to bring you back.”

  He groaned, took her lips in a swift, delicious kiss, then released her. “I’ll make this up to you. I promise.”

  He took a step away before she was ready to let him go, and as the cool afternoon air replaced all his sultry heat, her heart took a hard, irretrievable tumble. Because she knew right then that what she felt for him was stronger than love. It was the kind of emotion a person was willing to sacrifice everything for.

  “Nick?” a male voice rang out from the end of the alley. “Shit, man. We’ve been looking all over for you.”

  Cynna swallowed hard and turned. Two males stalked toward them from the end of the alley. The first was tall and blond, the second more muscular, his eyes more intense. A whisper of worry rushed down her spine because she recognized both of them from the day she and Nick had been brought to the castle. The second especially, because he was the leader of the Argonauts.

  “Zander,” Nick said, glancing toward the blond, then shifting his gaze to the other male. “Theron. What’s wrong?”