Blood Torn (Blackthorn Book 3)

by Lindsay J. Pryor

  ‘Is this your idea of foreplay?’ he asked, searching deep into her dark eyes.

  ‘I dare you to let me go down on you,’ she said, her gaze unflinching.

  His heart jolted, as did his erection within the confinement of her skilled hand. The sensation it evoked was raw, summoning the feral instincts that he needed so desperately to keep contained.

  ‘Daring?’ he asked.

  She smiled – a taunting, provocative, sexy smile. ‘I bite, remember?’ She lifted her lips a fraction closer. ‘When you least expect it.’

  This was how vampires fell – the look, the smile, the coax. But he was no vampire – something she needed reminding of. Something he needed to remind himself of.

  He slid his free hand up her neck, curled his fingers into her hair, and got enough of a grip to make her catch her breath again. ‘You’re not going to bite,’ he said, his breath mingling with hers.

  Her eyes flared slightly. ‘What makes you so sure?’

  He released her hand at the small of her back only to tighten his arm around her. He lifted her as if she were weightless, slammed her against the bars behind, his hand in her hair protecting the back of her head from the force.

  Trapping her there with the pressure and angle of his groin, her thighs forced around his waist, he pushed her hands either side of her head, encircling her wrists and most of the bars they were held against with the span of his hands. And to remind her of her vulnerability, he tilted his hips a little, just enough so that his hardness pressed tauntingly against the most sensitive part of her sex – just enough to show her he knew exactly what he was doing.

  ‘Because I bite back,’ he said, his lips inches from hers again. ‘Only harder and deeper. And if there’s anything that’s going to bring out the feral in me, it’s that first taste of blood.’

  Her breathing hitched, her eyes flaring slightly again. But then those enticing eyes became hooded. There was no retaliation. No fight.

  Instead, she crossed her legs around his back, coiled her toes into the waistband of his sweatpants and slid them down a few inches along with his shorts, her smooth heels gliding over the curve of his solid behind, not breaking from his gaze for even a second.

  Damn it, she was good. And the first inkling that he had underestimated her started to unfurl.

  The feel of his freed erection against her, even though her thin tunic was still a barrier to skin on skin, sent a bolt of static through him. Even more evocative was that she was already damp. Her mouth was parted in anticipation. Her heart was pounding against her chest.

  She wasn’t scared, she was aroused.

  And that was the last thing he needed.

  ‘Come on, Jask,’ she said softly. ‘What are you waiting for? This isn’t a guided tour. We both know the real reason you brought me down here.’

  It had been as much an attempt to give her some insight into their cause as to see just how fearless and proficient a serryn she really was.

  Only now she was demonstrating that she was both of the latter – which only reinforced his reason to stay in control. Because now he really couldn’t afford to lose her. Now he had to pull back, not least because the way he was burning inside had nothing to do with her purpose for his pack.

  ‘And what reason is that?’ he asked.

  ‘I think you like me being defiant,’ she whispered. ‘It turns you on, doesn’t it? That’s one sordid little secret you can’t hide.’

  And it did turn him on – the way she dared to stand up to him, to challenge him, to provoke him in a way so few ever dared. ‘You’re like a wind-up toy. I’m just curious to know how far I can twist before you snap.’

  ‘Because you’re already snapping, aren’t you? The fact I’m pinned to this cage tells me that. But I’m not scared to see you for what you are, Jask. Go on,’ she goaded, resting her head back against the bars to look him direct in the eyes. ‘Hurt me.’

  But those two words were too telling. Two words that could so easily be fulfilled had they not been contradicted by the look deep in her eyes. ‘Is that what sex is to you, Phia – pain? Or do you want me to make it that way so it drowns the real feelings out?’

  She frowned, but he didn’t give her time to retort before he pulled her from the bars. He slammed her down onto the mattress, pinning her onto her back with effortless and efficient ease before resting on all fours above her.

  It felt good to have her beneath him. And it felt good to look her in the eyes as he did so. Too good.

  Keeping a grip on her wrists, he lowered himself so his lips nearly touched hers again. ‘You picked the wrong one for the job, Phia.’

  Because that wasn’t who he was now. Not now his pack came first. From then on, his pack would always come first.

  The pack that had, during his road to self-destruction, remained loyal against the odds. The pack that had tolerated his mood swings and outbursts. That had still respected him despite him disappearing days at a time. They’d tolerated his negligence, his lack of focus, his sullenness. And they accepted him again without question when he’d finally broken through the darkness enough to resume his full duties. Duties that Corbin had loyally assumed, before handing them back to him without challenge.

  Phia had asked if he’d ever questioned whether the right alpha had been chosen. During those times he had severely doubted it. Now he’d finally prove himself wrong – and she was the test. Because she was the only one, in all those decades since, who had made him doubt himself again.

  ‘Because I don’t play that way,’ he added, nearly tagging on anymore, before wisely pulling away instead.

  He yanked his shorts and sweatpants back into position. And, as tough as it was, he turned his back on her, his frustration and unsated need berating his decision.

  * * *

  Sophia lay there breathless, her hands lax either side of her head. But as he opened the cage door, she forced herself up onto her elbows. ‘Wait!’

  It was the last thing she should have said, but it came from somewhere deep, somewhere raw, somewhere uncomfortably honest.

  Jask didn’t turn around, but he did stop. He coiled his hands around the bars either side of the cage doorway, creating tension in every finely honed muscle of his back, shoulders and arms.

  Never had someone turning their back on her filled her with such a sense of emptiness. Never before had she made the first move to stop it happening.

  But never had she wanted someone so badly that she was willing to swallow her own pride.

  ‘Then don’t play,’ she said, surprised how much she meant it. ‘And neither will I.’

  He turned to face her, his expression indefinable.

  After a few seconds of contemplation, he stepped back towards her, back to the foot of the mattress, and gazed down at her.

  She lay her head back down, her hands either side of her head again. Despite having never felt more exposed than if she’d lay there naked, she looked him direct in the eyes. It was a dangerously submissive pose, but one she could only hope would snag him.

  ‘All you know is game-playing,’ he said.

  ‘You didn’t have to bring me down here.’ She knew it was risky – pushing things whilst he still looked contemplative. But she lifted her foot regardless, sliding it slowly up his firm, muscular thigh. As she reached his groin, pressed slightly against his hardness, she expected him to flinch. But he didn’t.

  Hours before, she would have taken the opportunity to draw back her leg and slam her foot hard into him just because she could – just because it would be another impulsive move that would make her feel okay for that split second.

  But now, looking up into those eyes, at the perfection that stood above her, she knew this wasn’t about pride – this was about self-worth. Because, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she believed she deserved not to have him walk away from her. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than him – and she was going to get him. She was going to get Jask Tao exactly where sh
e wanted him.

  Just as she knew she needed to sate whatever dark craving she was developing for him. She needed to get back on task, and her head was always clearer after sex. And if there was one thing she needed to pull her plan off, it was clarity – not the chaos she was feeling then.

  ‘It’s just you and me now,’ she said. ‘No one need ever know.’

  But as she applied a taunting amount of pressure to his erection, Jask caught hold of her ankle. He eased it aside but, to her relief, he didn’t let go. Instead he lowered to his knees. He slid his hand up the back of her calf with the motion, behind her knee, to grasp the back of her thigh as he leaned over her, his free hand pressing into the mattress beside her shoulder.

  ‘You’re a tease,’ he said, his tone laced with something enticingly calm despite the look in his eyes.

  ‘If you didn’t want this too, you would have kept walking,’ she said, trying to keep her breathing steady as his hand moved up her outer thigh up to her hip, pushing her tunic up with the motion.

  ‘I’m not disputing that,’ he said, before easing back on his haunches. He equally clutched her other hipbone with his now free hand in a lethally possessive move. And as he gazed down between her legs, at her exposure in the shadows, his unashamed blatancy made her stomach clench. She swallowed harder than she wanted to, the tension building in the pit of her abdomen. But she felt no temptation to recoil or cover herself despite her toes instinctively curling into the mattress.

  Sliding his hand up her cleavage to clasp her throat, he leaned over her again. But there was no pressure in his hold, just a move that allowed him to glide his thumb over her lips before tucking it into the breathless parting.

  ‘Go on then,’ he said, looking deep into her eyes. ‘Bite now. I dare you.’

  The challenge sent her heart racing, but as he slowly unbuttoned her tunic at her cleavage she lay mesmerised and unflinching.

  He watched every button he released reveal a little more of her flesh until he finally pushed both folds of fabric aside, exposing her fully to him.

  She was lost. As his hand encompassed her breast, his thumb gliding over her already hardened nipple, she clenched her hands. And as he cupped the side of her jaw with his other hand, pressed his thumb a little deeper between her lips, as he lowered his head to take her held breast hungrily in his mouth, she let out an uncontrolled groan she never thought possible.

  Her raw response clearly not having gone unnoticed, he left her breast damp and cool as he rested that arm back on the mattress. He removed his thumb from between her parted lips only for his to hover less than an inch away again. But he didn’t kiss her – he kept that mouth a cruel, taunting distance away.

  Instead, his azure eyes didn’t flinch from hers as his free hand disappeared below their waists.

  Sophia flinched as his fingers met her sex.

  And as he instantly applied painstaking pressure to her tender clitoris, she gasped, jolted, her head fuzzy.

  ‘Fuck,’ she hissed, almost silently.

  ‘That’s the idea, isn’t it?’ he whispered. And without taking the pressure off her clit, eased a finger inside her.

  She flinched again. But despite her involuntarily tensing, Jask went anything but easy, pushing deep into her in one slow but unrelenting move.

  She had no idea what he was doing once he was inside her, but it evoked goosebumps all over her body, made her eyes water, her body shudder. And all the time, he kept staring deep into her eyes, his thumb simultaneously working her clit to the point she could barely breathe.

  For a split second she thought she was going to have to ask him to stop, to break the intensity just for a moment. But as a dark glint appeared in his eyes, accompanied by him sliding a second finger inside her, she gritted her teeth and clenched her fists for fear of coming too soon.

  * * *

  He had to stay in control.

  As much as he wanted to spread her thighs further and feel the most sensitive part of him sink into her wet heat, that was one step too far across his self-imposed line.

  This was about taunting and toying with her. It was about showing her how easily he could control her climax with every subtle and manipulative movement of his fingers, knowing when to apply pressure and when to withdraw, where to touch and how. She needed to know that experience had taught him more than enough, despite her previous coaxing. Just as instincts told him how to read what she liked and what she didn’t – just how far to push and when to stop.

  And Phia gave everything away so easily in each small, hitched little breath, the opening and closing of her eyes, how far she parted her lips, how much she arched her back, how deep she was willing and able to take him.

  Because from the way she was responding, sex with him wasn’t just about power and control as was indicative of serryns. Phia was emotionally engaged with what he was doing to her.

  The serryn who arrogantly thought she could handle him. The serryn who he needed to get inside the head of to be able to tame, to persuade her to do what he needed in order to save his pack, was giving him just that. The serryn he now knew so much more about. And he needed to keep his focus on turning that to his advantage.

  But pushing two fingers deep inside her tight, restrictive warmth set his own arousal dangerously close to the edge.

  He pulled back onto his haunches again to try to ease his tension, only for Phia to lethally arch her back even further, emphasising her concave stomach.

  It was a reminder that a serryn body was for two purposes only – pleasure and killing. And despite the poison that coursed through her veins, it was no danger to him. Just as he could spill inside her a hundred times to no effect but to sate his own need. And right then that was exactly what he’d wanted.

  And he wanted to look her in the eyes as he did it – something he hadn’t afforded himself in as long as he could remember.

  Dare to forge that connection as he came inside her.

  And it was getting harder to deny that she looked more beautiful than ever, masked partially in shadow, partially in light, arousal emanating from her glossy dark eyes, her pretty lips full and swollen. With her arched body, her arms having fallen limp beside her head, her slender, shapely thighs parted wide for him, she was more than bewitching – she was perfect.

  And the sheen her arousal had created against her inner thighs, the wetness that masked his fingers, told him just how much she was losing herself in the moment.

  He should have walked away at that point. He should have brought her to climax and left her there on the mattress – sated his own need alone somewhere else in an uncomplicated, self-satisfying act.

  But he wanted her.

  And as he firmly massaged her swollen breasts, rubbing his thumb across her hardened nipples, as she groaned in response again, it was his turn to swallow harder than he should.

  This time her raw response made him teeter. Now the female who lay so openly beneath him was far more than a commodity.

  He wanted to pick up the pace. Needed to pick up the pace.

  In frustration, he plunged his two fingers as deep inside her as he could go.

  He thought it would be the breaking point – that she’d finally fend him off. But she only arched her back more and cried out, her eyes tightly closed, her frown deep, a little flushed, lost, and never more stunning.

  Her defences were truly down. In that moment, she was his. And there was no way he was walking away from that.

  He looked back down between her legs, to where he fucked her exquisitely with his fingers and knew it was nowhere near enough for him anymore. He needed to be inside her. He needed to part those thighs as far as he could and compel her to take every inch of him.

  He looked back at her to see she was looking at him again, gazing up at him with her molten brown eyes in a moment of complete understanding.

  It was his last chance to walk away.

  But he should have known he was a fool to think she was that tamed. A fool to th
ink he’d broken her yet.

  ‘That the best you’ve got?’ she whispered, those full, wanton lips again curled in that defiant smirk, arousal seeping through a breathlessness that was unable to mask her intoxicating impatience.

  To coax him further, she dared to further part the smooth, slender thighs either side of his hips, reminding him of the willing body that lay vulnerable beneath him.

  Skilfully, slowly removing his fingers, he leaned over her again. Resting both hands either side of her head, he looked deep into the eyes that burrowed back into his, silence enclosing the room.

  ‘Far from it,’ he said. ‘But I’m in charge here – not you.’

  * * *

  It was a statement that made her stomach jolt – that and the look in his eyes.

  His trail of slow, hard kisses down the length of her neck, the scuff of his stubble against her tender flesh, the coaxing rake of his slightly extended canines, had her clutching the mattress either side of her hips. And as he took her breast in his hand again only to squeeze, to suck harder than he had last time, the detectable lengthening in the talons that dug into her only reminded her of exactly what she was goading.

  She’d almost forgotten what he was, seeing no difference in their species in the minutes that had passed.

  But she knew no male of her own species matched up to him. No male ever made her spark with such a painful burning that he could have plunged those canines or purposefully extended talons into her flesh and she wouldn’t have even cared.

  Because those eyes that looked back into hers again were feral, but intoxicatingly laced with something so much more. Something that created a sense of assurance in her even as he gripped the top of her open tunic double-handed, yanking the fabric halfway down her arms. She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he cupped her neck with both hands before sliding them firmly down over her breasts to her waist.

  Just watching his admiration created a sense of liberation, a paradox to the makeshift restraint he had created with her tunic.