She didn't resist.
She let herself sink into him. Let herself feed the craving she couldn't control.
He ate at her mouth like a starving man. Pressing his hard body against her pliant one, he took everything she had and gave his all in return. For one moment, it was as it had been the other night. As if they were one being split between two bodies. She reveled in the song between them, that beautiful melody that only sang in her mind when he was near.
The beast inside her howled in utter joy. Lights flashed behind her eyes as she ran her hands over him, and he did the same. As if they couldn't get enough of one another, couldn't stop touching the other.
Finally, they came up for air. She gazed into his eyes and reality smacked her between her own. His gaze had taken on the wolfish look she'd seen before. The one she'd seen just last night in the animal out in the swamp.
Ice dowsed the fire within her. It sizzled as it died. She quickly unwrapped herself, breathing heavily. As was he.
“Sorry,” Makenna choked out.
“It's─fine.” At least he didn't sound any better than she did. As a matter of fact, she'd never seen him look so shaken.
Pulling herself together, she stepped back, putting much needed distance between them. What the hell was she thinking? They were here to talk. They'd eat, she'd get her answers, and then she'd break it off with him. That was the plan.
She had to stick to the plan.
Turning her back to him as she staggered to the kitchen, she pointed at the table. She’d actually gone and bought a tablecloth. A red one. Something in her had wanted to have a bit of finery. For him. She rolled her eyes. “Have a seat and I'll get dinner.”
Instead, he appeared at her elbow. “Let me help.”
“Fine.” She ground the words out and worked around him in the tiny kitchen, occasionally bumping into him and having to catch her breath.
Silently, they carried the food to the rickety table and sat in the mismatched chairs. For the first time, she wished she’d decorated the plain, white walls. Or gotten some candles. Her cheap dollar store plates suddenly seemed not good enough. Not that she cared. It wasn’t like this was a date. She had no idea why she'd taken the trouble to make etouffee either. Seemed like a lot of work when she was planning on dumping him. In fact, it all seemed quite silly as they sat staring at each other.
Rhys broke the stalemate by grabbing her plate and filling it for her. She didn't have the energy to question him, so she gulped down her wine. At least she had nice wine glasses. After filling his own plate, he leaned over and took a big whiff of the steaming goodness in front of him.
“This looks and smells fantastic.” His eyes met hers. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
Those were the last words spoken for several minutes. Several tense, extremely uncomfortable minutes. Makenna didn't want to ruin a perfectly good meal, but that's exactly what would happen once she started asking her questions. So she sat, ignoring him while she dug into her meal.
“How's work been?” His quiet question shattered the silence.
She jumped. She hadn't been expecting something so mundane. But her guts churned at the question. She would've latched onto it if it didn't bring up an episode she'd rather forget. The one where she'd nearly thrown her instructor through a wall.
She plastered on a smile. “Good. The kids I teach are really doing well.” Her pride leaked into her voice, as did a bit of sadness.
She hadn't heard from Tim since yesterday, but she was beginning to get the feeling she'd never be able to go back to the center. Especially with what she could sense coming down the pipes tonight. Somehow she just knew.
Tonight would change everything.
“That's good. I mean, kids should know how to defend themselves. And you seem to love working with them.” He averted his gaze.
How would he know that? She hadn't mentioned it the few times they'd talked. Unless he'd been watching her. The almost calm she'd been feeling slipped away, replaced by a smoldering fury.
Rhys cleared his throat. “How have you been?”
“Fine.” She lied. “Why? Should I not be?”
Where did that come from? Oh yeah, probably from the fact she was terrified. And shaking like a leaf.
“No particular reason.” Now he was lying to her, as evidenced by his sudden interest in his plate. “Except, the last time I saw you, you were...”
“What? In agony? Heartbroken? A pathetic mess?” Ah, her famous venom. Makenna had plenty of it reserved for him. Still, something inside her cried at the pain flashing in his eyes.
“Well, yes. No. I just─” he shifted in his seat but met her stare. “I've been worried about you.”
“Worried about me?” She snorted then chugged the rest of her wine. “That's rich. If you were so worried, you would have told me the truth before now.” She had no intention of bottling up the rage and hurt inside, no matter how much that damn beast whined at her. Or how much his agony pierced her heart. “And when exactly was the last time you saw me, Rhys? Night before last? Or was it last night out in the swamp?”
And there was the one question she hadn't intended to let out. Oh well. She was beyond stopping at this point.
“Kenna, please.” Rhys set his fork down and pushed back in his chair. “Don’t─”
She jumped to her feet, smacking her hands on the table. “Don't what? Ask questions you don't plan on answering? Why are you here, Rhys? Did you actually want to talk? Or were you planning on lying to me again?” She tossed her plate into the empty bowl in the center of the table, then grabbed the whole mess and stomped to the sink. “Or maybe just distract me by trying to get me in bed again? Huh? Which is it?”
She whirled to let him have some more lip and slammed into a wide expanse of solid chest. Instinct had her reaching to steady herself against him. The heat of him seared her hands. Her beast roared. Her vision changed, glazing over then sharpening, just like last time.
He growled low as he balanced her by clasping her hips. They stared each other down, his eyes still with that wolfish look that freaked her out.
“I won't lie and say I haven't dreamed of having you underneath me again. But that's not the only reason I'm here.”
She snapped out of the spell and jerked out of his grip. “So it is one of the reasons.” She turned and rinsed off the dishes to keep her hands from tearing his clothes off and shoving him to the floor.
Control. She needed some.
“I can't deny that. But my primary reason is to talk. To tell you everything.” His voice was guttural.
“Okay. Well. Then talk.” She kept scrubbing, then dropped the dishes into the dishwasher.
“I'd rather look into your eyes when I tell you.”
Why did he sound worried? And sad? She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. Rhys was tortured. Part of her longed to ease his suffering. The other wanted him to writhe in it. Her life had been normal before he arrived. Okay, not normal. But at least it hadn't been the chaotic mass of turmoil it was now.
Well, not quite.
She sighed. She had to admit he wasn't the cause of her weird shit, only the latest catalyst to set even stranger things in motion. Things she knew deep down would've happened even if he hadn't shown up. One of her knowings. Damn those things. It meant she had to let go of some of her anger towards him, and that chafed.
But she didn’t have to relinquish all of it. He was still a liar, after all.
Makenna shoved the last plate in the dishwasher with a little too much force and turned to him. “All right. Let me finish this up. Go ahead and have a seat. I'll be there in a minute.” She nodded towards the couch and turned back to her nice, normal task.
She squirted soap in the dishwasher cup so hard it splashed back onto her shirt. She grabbed the towel and wiped at it, then slammed the dishwasher door shut. The countertop rattled.
When she turned on the water to rinse the sink out, the faucet exploded in her
face. She slapped at the knob but was completely soaked before one strong arm pulled her away. Then he was under the sink, shutting the water off.
Sputtering, she took the towel he handed her. “What the hell?”
She eyed the offending faucet. The knob hung drunkenly from where it used to sit.
Rhys didn't try to hide the humor in his voice. “I think you were a little upset. The faucet seemed to catch the brunt of it.”
Oh. She'd been so angry she'd pulled the thing right off. Great. Now her super strength was tearing up her home. She huffed and rolled her eyes.
“You, ah, might want to go get changed. I can clean this up.” His warming gaze took her in from head to toe, stopping at her soaked chest.
She glanced down to see hard nipples completely visible through the wet, light colored fabric. Makenna crossed her arms over her chest, cheeks on fire. “Towels are on the love seat. I haven't folded laundry yet. I'll be right back.” She motioned towards the living room as she stomped down the hall, ignoring his chuckle. Even angry, she couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to at least throw the towels on her bed instead of leaving them out for him to see.
Five minutes later, she emerged dry and a little calmer, thanks to taking a few minutes to do some deep breathing. But whatever peace she'd found died a quick death when she took in the stormy look on Rhys' face.
Thinking maybe the broken faucet had pissed him off, Makenna glanced at the kitchen. Puddles of water remained on the floor and the counter. She turned back to ask him what happened and finally noticed the object clasped in his white knuckles.
“Care to explain this, Makenna?” He waved a hand at the open trunk beside the love seat, several of her precious keepsakes spread on the floor.
What right did he have to go through her things? Those were her private memories. The only things she had from the family she'd loved and lost. How dare he go through them like he had earned the privilege?
Wait.
“Explain what?” She stomped across the room and attempted to jerk the dagger out of his hand.
He moved it out of her reach and firmed up his stance as if preparing for a fight. That put her on the defensive. The primal being within her stretched awake at the possibility of a rumble. Oh goodie. Everyone was coming out to play tonight.
Fanfuckingtastic.
“Rhys, give me my knife. Then you can let yourself out.” Whatever answers he had, she'd just have to discover some other way. She didn't need someone nosing into the most private parts of her life, pawing through her precious memories like they were nothing.
But he hadn't done that. Even as he held the dagger away from her, he held it with respect. As if it were a great treasure. That was weird, but not enough for her to forgive him.
“No.” She'd never heard that tone from him. Hard. Cold. Like she was the enemy. He held the dagger between them. “You'll explain this. All of this.”
He swept a hand over the trinkets spread on the floor.
He needed to get out of there before she killed him. Makenna planted her hands on her hips. “Not that it's any of your business, but those are keepsakes. Things my aunt and uncle left me when they died.”
She glanced at the strange items she'd never really understood, but she'd treasured. A small bag of gemstones, runes, knives inscribed with the same symbol as the dagger in his hand, a plaque bearing the same crest, a small box filled with a bundle of herbs, three scrolls filled with words she didn't understand, one stamped with an A, one with a B, and one with an M, and an old, weathered book full of a strange, beautiful language. Those things and the various pictures and trinkets in the box were all she had left of her family.
“You're a liar.” His vehement words caught her off guard, but not as much as when he gripped her upper arm. In shock, she allowed him to pull her to him. “Stop playing games, Makenna. I don't have the time or patience.”
He sneered, then tossed her away.
Coming back to herself, the fighter in her kicked in full force. She spun, going for her collection of knives on the bookcase. She never made it. Rhys caught her, slamming her face first into the wall.
“I said no more games.” He hissed the words in her ear, his rage seeping into her pores.
“I'm not playing.” She growled. Throwing an elbow into his ribs she was rewarded with a grunt, but his hold only tightened. “Get out of here, Rhys. You're no longer welcome.”
“Oh, I'm not going anywhere, love.” In that voice, it sounded more like an insult than the endearment he'd whispered while wrapped around her. He pressed his front to her back, trapping her. “Not until you tell me what I want to know.” His voice wavered on the last, like his anger was costing him.
It was. His conflict raced through her own blood, confusing the hell out of her. How in the ever holy hell could they be so furious with each other and yet still need each other so badly? How could she want to kick his ass out the door and at the same time want to let him ravish her?
It made no sense, yet there it was.
Their harsh breathing the only sound in the room, he dropped his lips to her shoulder. He placed a brief, rough kiss there before lifting his head. Then he sucked in a breath.
She forced out words. “Rhys, just go.”
This madness had to stop.
Her head was about to explode. As darkness fell outside, her blood began to thrum. Her beast, having watched the drama silently, started to howl. And the other being? Oh, she was getting more riled by the minute. More than ever before.
She was thirsty. She wanted blood. Craved a ferocious battle. One the male behind her could give in spades. At least for now.
But she wanted more.
She needed an enemy to lay waste to. An enemy to annihilate. She grew stronger with every passing minute.
Before she could say another word, Rhys stepped back. He pressed her neck to the side and grabbed her right wrist, pressing it to the wall. “Would you care to tell me about these tattoos? How could you possibly wear them and not know?” He flattened her against the wall again, his breath hot on her ear. “Looks like you're the one who's been lying, Makenna O'Neill. Or should I say, Callahan?”
Her tattoos? What about them? She’d had them covered by her clothes and a wrist cuff the other night. Maybe he didn’t like tattoos on a woman. Hypocrite. And who the hell was Callahan?
Empowered by the beasts within, Makenna reared back, smashing her head into his and spearing both elbows into his midsection. His hold broke, and she spun, dropping into a fighting stance as he staggered back.
“What the fuck do you care about a stupid tattoo and who the fuck are you talking about? My name is O'Neill, you crazy asshole! Now get out of my house!”
Rhys straightened, jaw set. A huge vein pulsed in his forehead. “Not until you tell me about that ink.” She growled, and he answered it. “Now, Makenna. After everything you've accused me of, it's the least you owe me.”
Fine. She’d tell him. And then show him the door.
“I don't remember getting them, okay? I must've been drunk or something, because one day when I was sixteen or so, I woke up with them. They didn't hurt or anything, which was weird. But they matched the emblems on the stuff in the trunk, so I figured it was cool. It was apparently important to my family. Even if I couldn't remember.” For some unknown reason, tears pricked her eyes and she dashed them away.
Rhys stood stock still, his mouth hanging open. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, he looked at her so intently, she would've sworn he was trying to see into her soul. His eyes widened, and all the tension drained from his muscles like someone had sucked it out.
“You really don't know. How is that possible?” He watched her for a second, almost as if he were waiting for something. Then he glanced at the trunk and made a dive for it.
“What are you doing?” She pulled at his shoulders, but he shrugged her off and kept digging. Not that it was difficult. The beings or whatever were inside of her were going crazy, howling a
nd wailing and tearing at her. “Rhys, have you lost your mind? That's my personal property! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Not having the energy to fight him and the forces trying to rip her apart at the same time, she collapsed on the floor.
A few seconds later Rhys sat back on his heels, something clutched in his hands. He opened it and sighed. When he turned, he held the box with the small bundle of herbs inside.
He didn't look at her, just sat back against the trunk. If she wasn't mistaken, that was relief coursing through him. And guilt. “You really didn't know. You couldn't have. You were telling the truth.” He looked up at her, awe on his face. “You never lied to me.” His smile faded. “I'm sorry. I misjudged you, Kenna.”
His apology or the use of his pet name for her didn't soothe her.
She hugged her knees to her chest. “Great. Apology accepted. Wish I could say the same about you. Now leave, Rhys. Just go.”
She winced. The battle within increased in intensity. Claws raked her insides. She squeezed her eyes shut, arms folded over her stomach. It felt as if her guts were being ripped out. Flipping her eyes back open, that weird sheen was back, along with the myriad of colors swimming in her vision. Details sharper, more vivid. Those enhanced senses of hers kicked into overdrive. She squinted at the light.
She smelled the remnants of their dinner. What Mike downstairs was nuking in the microwave. The stench burned her nostrils. The litter box from the elderly ladies apartment across the hall.
And sounds. Oh God, the sounds.
Everything was too loud. Even her own breathing. Mike slamming the microwave rattled her brain. The neighbor’s damn cat meowed sharply, and it clawed at her eardrums. Makenna clamped her hands over her ears to shut it out, but it didn't work. Rocking back and forth, lost in the torture of trying to keep her brain from oozing out her ears, she didn't notice Rhys had put the small box down and crawled toward her until she heard his strange, whispered exclamation.
“Shit. The spell's starting to wear off.”
“The what?” she whispered back, wincing. Even that was too loud.
Sleeper (Rise of the Fianna Book 1) Page 19