Forged by Desire (London Steampunk Book 4)

by Bec McMaster

  The silk clung. He couldn’t get it off. Didn’t need to. Her nipples were hard and tight behind the silk and he bit her there, teeth scraping gently over her stays, his mouth following as he suckled. Perry gasped, hands fisting in his hair.

  He sucked the moisture from the silk, heating it with his mouth. Yanking her skirts higher and higher, until he had them bunched at her waist. Behind his leather breeches, his cock raged for release.

  “Hold your skirts,” he commanded.

  She did, leaning back against the wall and biting her lip as she watched him go to his knees before her.

  The flesh of her thighs was ice cold against his lips as he found her drawers and tugged them down. Even they were wet and cold, but he knew there was heat here somewhere. And as his palms slid up the back of her legs, parting them, he knew he’d found it.

  Garrett’s breath refracted back at him, hot on her clammy skin. One of her hands slid into his hair as she trembled and he kissed his way up her thigh, pressing his face against the small tangle of blond hair at the junction of her hips. She smelled clean and wet, and he wanted her, needed her… So much so that the ache almost knotted him in two.

  “Garrett!” Perry sucked in a harsh gasp as he licked at her, nuzzling into her sensitive flesh.

  The taste was exquisite. Garrett let go of control, losing himself in his need for her. So many months spent denying himself, denying her. And now, right when he was on the verge of losing her, he had this one last chance…

  Each gasp he wrung from Perry’s lips felt like victory. Each time her fist clenched in his hair and she cried out wordlessly, her body folding over him. He coaxed her thighs wider, shifting one knee up and over his shoulder. And then she was his and he kissed her deep and hard, feeling the tension in her begin to tighten.

  “God. Oh, God,” she cried, hips thrusting against his mouth.

  He felt her shudder. That’s it. Just a little more. And then she cried out, jerking hard against his mouth as both hands curled around his shoulders.

  “Garrett. Please.”

  Another rippling spasm. Garrett tongued her deep, suckling on her clitoris. Perry had a hand to her mouth, biting her knuckles to hold back a scream. With her other hand, she pushed him away, her whole body collapsing back against the wall.

  “No,” she whispered. “No more. Enough.”

  Garrett drew back, pressing a kiss to her thigh. “Never enough,” he warned.

  Her leg slid off his shoulder, and he caught it at his elbow, their eyes meeting. Then he surged to his feet, locking her leg around his hip as he kissed her.

  Perry was shuddery, weak. But he felt her starting to throw off her lassitude, her hands darting down between them. The urgency in her actions bit at him. This wasn’t done between them. And it wasn’t enough by half. He wanted to brand himself on her skin—deep within her—so she’d never be able to walk away again.

  “You belong to me,” he whispered, feeling those greedy little hands tearing at the buttons on his pants. “I won’t give you up, Perry. Not now. Not ever.”

  His cock sprang free into her eager grip. Garrett shifted her in his arms, hooking her other leg up around his hips and shoving the acres of wet red silk out from between them. Then he thrust hard, sinking into her wet heat and moaning.

  Bliss. It felt so right that he almost came, right there. Perry’s body was a tight, silken fist around his cock, her teeth sinking into his lip on a moan as he thrust again. Garrett shoved his hand out, holding them both up against the wall, his other arm locked around her, grinding her close against him.

  There was nothing of gentleness in this. A claiming, pure and simple. She belonged to him, and he wanted to etch that fact on her memory so that she’d never think of another man again. Their greedy hands tore at each other, Perry’s half-drugged gaze meeting his, and then she was moaning again as he pumped his cock inside her. Little desperate pleas in his ear that drove him wild, crazy with need. Her teeth sinking into the tender flesh where his neck met his shoulder.

  He knew what she wanted.

  “Take it,” he gasped, dragging the knife from his belt and pressing it into her hands.

  Perry let out a low moan. “I can’t.”

  Garrett wrapped his fingers around hers and brought the knife up. The edge was a sharp sting against his throat as blood welled. Perry’s eyes narrowed in on his throat as blood mingled with the rain, a look of such intense need that he almost came.

  “Do it,” he whispered, offering her his throat. “You want it. I want it. Do it.”

  The first brush of her mouth sent a shudder through him. Perry gasped at the taste. Then her mouth suckled at his skin, drinking his blood, the sensation shooting all the way through him until his balls tightened. Garrett slammed her back against the wall as her tentativeness gave way to hunger, burying himself inside her. It felt so damned good. She owned him in this moment, could have asked him for anything. The sweet pull of her mouth against his throat was drugging. Suddenly he was fucking her, feeling the pull of her mouth in other places, desperate to sink into her flesh, as if the two could become one.

  Perry drew back with a gasp, her eyes flooded with blackness. Lips consuming hers, he tugged at the pins holding her wig in place. He shoved the bloody thing aside, and then his hands were sliding through the short silken strands of her own hair.

  She looked like herself again. But more. Wet and sensual and so bloody beautiful that it made his heart clench in his chest. You. It was always you.

  The thought pushed him to the heights of pleasure, his gut clenching as heat flashed through his balls. Garrett groaned, pressing his face against her throat. He didn’t want this to end, because he knew that she still wasn’t with him fully. The second he let her go, her clever little mind would start coming up with every rational excuse she could find to fight this.

  “Perry.” He slid his hand between them, thumb rasping over the seat of her pleasure.

  Perry sucked in a sharp breath, her wide gray eyes locking on his. Her body tightened around him and then she shattered, her mouth forming a little “Oh” of surprise as she threw her head back, clenching around him, shudders racking through her.

  The world disappeared, became nothing more than heat and wet and sex. Each thrust became a little rougher, more urgent. Rain spattered across his face as he ground her against the wall, coming with a harsh gasp.

  His thrusts slowed as he shuddered within her. Suddenly he could feel the harsh brick rasping against the backs of his hands as he held her in place. The sting of the rain was so cold it seemed to shock him back to life. A flash of lightning lit up the sky. Garrett lifted his face from her shoulder, breathing hard.

  Perry’s quivering fingers slid roughly over his mouth, her gray eyes locking on his as if she still couldn’t quite figure out what had happened. Solemn, serious eyes. He wanted to kiss the frown from her brow, make her forget all of the doubts that were suddenly creeping back in.

  Garrett took her hand and kissed the backs of her fingers. “No regrets, my love,” he said hoarsely. “You belong to me now.”

  Twenty-two

  Long minutes drifted past as Garrett held her pressed against the wall, slowly breathing as he came back down from the heights of ecstasy, his body still tangled with hers.

  “This doesn’t change anything,” Perry whispered against the skin of his throat.

  His heart clenched in his chest. Garrett’s hands tightened on her. “Tell me you don’t love me,” he said and withdrew from the warmth of her body, tucking himself back into his breeches.

  Perry’s eyes widened, rain dripping down her cheeks and turning her eyes almost blue. He watched the emotion evaporate from her face as she smoothly put up her walls, shaking her skirts back into place.

  “I don’t love you,” she lied.

  “Tell me you never did.”

  “I never did… I never will.”

  So blank, that mask. As if nothing could ever penetrate it. And he needed to ge
t under her skin, to force her to fight for this too.

  “We promised no more lies.” Garrett stroked his thumb over her kiss-ravaged mouth. “So I will give you my truth. I love you,” he told her. “And I won’t let you go, I won’t make any promises to go away and leave you to fight this alone.” His thumb traced away some of the wetness on her cheek. “The way you think your father did.”

  Perry’s entire body stiffened. He could almost see her working through his words, deciding what she could and couldn’t deal with. It was little surprise when she focused on the statement he thought she’d choose. “Why would you say that about my father?”

  “I met him, last night.”

  Another flinch. The mask was starting to slip, her eyes searching over his shoulder, as if to find something that would help her escape this, escape him. “Love has conditions attached, Garrett.” Her lower lip quivered. “I’m not a fool. I learned the hard way. My father loved me—he doted on me—but he wanted me to change. He wanted me to accept…” Her breath caught. “I couldn’t be what he wanted me to be. What the world wanted me to be.”

  “Have I ever asked you to be anything you’re not?”

  Nothing in her expression changed. But she hesitated. “No.”

  “And I don’t think you’re giving your father enough credit. You sent him letters asking him to break the contract between you and the duke. Did you ever tell him what was happening? What you were frightened of? I’ve seen your father, Perry. He’s a broken man. He feels that he failed his daughter, and he’s had to live with that for the past nine years.”

  Perry slammed her hands up, her palms hitting him hard in the chest, both guilt and rage flooding her eyes with black. “Don’t,” she warned as he staggered back a step. “Don’t you dare mention him. Don’t—” She turned around, wiping the wetness from her face as if just noticing the state of her dress and hair. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “I have to go. I have to get ready for the ball.”

  Garrett grabbed her upper arm. “Perry—”

  “I’m wet. The dress—” She shook herself free, panic painted across her face.

  He’d pressed her too hard. Too fast. She was facing demons that he could only begin to guess at. And the first thing she did was try to put some order back into her life.

  “I have to go.”

  “I’m not letting you—”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Perry snapped, grabbing fistfuls of her skirts.

  He held his hands up. “I could throw you over my shoulder.”

  “I could kick you in the ballocks,” she shot back. “This is not your choice to make. It’s mine, Garrett. I know you don’t like the price, but I can’t see any way around it, for now. He’s dangerous.”

  “So am I.”

  Perry paused by the door to the orangery, her hand on the handle. “I know you are. But the duke—he has resources, power… You’re just a Nighthawk in this world, Garrett. And I won’t risk you.”

  “Because you love me too,” he pushed.

  Perry’s nostrils flared. “Because you’re not a killer, Garrett. Not at heart. And he is.”

  “I do what I have to.”

  “Precisely. You hesitate every single time it comes to taking a life. The Moncrieff kills because he likes it.” She shook her head and opened the door. “I’ve made my decision.” Her voice broke. “I’d rather have your hate than see you hurt.”

  They stared at each other. Garrett realized she wouldn’t back down, not from this, not now. “You always were a stubborn chit.”

  “Good-bye, Garrett,” Perry said softly.

  The door opened and she slipped inside, becoming little more than a red-and-white wraith moving behind the wet glass.

  “Good-bye,” he said as the door clicked shut. “For now.”

  ***

  Perry strode along the hallway in her bare feet, her skirts clinging damply to her legs. She was so upset she could hardly speak, let alone think. “He feels that he failed his daughter…” The words tore through her, igniting a maelstrom of emotion. She wanted to scream. He did. He did fail me. He wasn’t there when I needed him so badly…

  And worse. The words that hurt the most. I love you.

  She’d loved Garrett for years, both the man she’d thought he was and the more complex part of him that she’d just come to realize was there. But a part of her had never expected to hear those words from his lips. It was easy to love him, for he never looked at her, never noticed her. Her feelings for him were safe, because she would never have to examine them further, never have to face his disappointment in her when she couldn’t be what he wanted. It frightened her and the first thing she’d thought when he’d said it was, No.

  Every man in her life who’d told her those words had placed conditions on them. I love you but…I want you to change.

  Her father had spent years teaching her to fence, to ride, to manage the enormous estate they called home. And then when she’d turned sixteen, suddenly it wasn’t enough. His focus had turned to her debut, and the sudden realization that his daughter didn’t fit the same mold as every other dashing young debutante. When she’d captured the duke’s eye, he’d been not thrilled but relieved, as if in his secret heart, he’d doubted her ability to ever land a thrall contract.

  The duke had said those words, luring her into quiet corners during their courtship. “I love you, Octavia, but when the contract is signed, I will expect certain behavior of you. I shall engage a finishing tutor, just for you. Consider it a gift, dearest.” And she’d been so desperate to prove herself to her father—and the duke—that she’d agreed and called it love.

  I love you, Garrett had said. The words still hammered at her, fighting to sink through her determination to hold them at bay. Have I ever asked you to be anything you’re not?

  She couldn’t think about that right now or else she’d lose control. A part of her wanted so badly to throw herself into Garrett’s arms. To believe him. To beg him to take her away from here. To run. Together. She couldn’t escape the feel of him, as if he’d imprinted himself onto her skin—and beneath it. The inevitable had finally happened, and she knew that a part of herself would never feel the same.

  I love you.

  A door in front of her opened and the Moncrieff himself came out, toying with his cuff links. He looked flawless in his evening attire, his black coat gleaming in the gaslight.

  They both stopped. His hard gaze raked over her, a challenging eyebrow tilting up.

  “I wished for some air,” Perry told him, a dark edge coming over her thoughts. Ever since those first few months as a blue blood, she’d never come close to losing control of her darker nature, but it was there tonight, bubbling within her like the storm outside. Pushed to the limits by a man who claimed to love her.

  One hand lashed out, caught her chin, and tilted her face toward the nearest gaslight. “I told you that you were to take no other man’s blood.”

  “I believe the precise words were, ‘When you are beneath my roof, you will take your blood from me, or not at all.’ I was on the terrace, Your Grace.” She jerked out of his grasp and held up a handful of her damp skirts. Color was draining out of the world, her senses growing even sharper, until she could see fine grains of hair along his jaw where he’d recently shaved. “I was very clearly not beneath your roof.”

  Quietly: “Get yourself cleaned up.” A muscle in his jaw tightened. “You look like some filthy Covent Garden slattern.”

  She bared her teeth at him in a silent snarl.

  I love you. I love you. I love you. It hammered at her from within, slowly breaking down the walls she kept in place to protect herself. She couldn’t fight it, couldn’t stop hearing the words. They were drowning her, slowly getting louder, beating in time to the rush of her heart.

  And this man in front of her was the one thing stopping her from everything she had ever wanted.

  The fear washed out of her, leaving her pulsing with her own dark power. Perry stared a
t the Moncrieff. He’d always terrified her. She had known, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he could and would destroy her if he had the desire. That she was completely alone in the world, for not even her father would help her. The one man she’d always run to, the one man she could trust to always be there for her.

  He hadn’t been, and the realization had crushed her. Yet she’d forgotten that she was no longer that frightened young woman. She was a blue blood now. And there was a man out there who loved her. A stubborn, stupid, reckless man who refused to take no for an answer. No matter what she told him, Garrett would try to rescue her. She was no longer alone.

  Never alone again.

  I love you.

  It gave her the strength she needed so badly. Perry shoved the Moncrieff against the wall, his eyes widening in surprise. She stepped closer, her fingers curling into claws in his coat. “You will never speak to me like that again.”

  Blackness bled through his own eyes. “I will speak to you however I damned well please—”

  Perry plucked a pin from the wig in her hand and jammed it into his abdomen. The duke snarled, throwing her back, but his legs gave way almost immediately, the hemlock racing through his system and paralyzing him. All of her pins had been dipped in the small vial of poison she’d brought with her for protection.

  He crumpled to his knees, shock turning his face white. Perry picked up her skirts and circled him as he slumped onto the floor, still trying to fight the poison.

  “I will play your games. I will let you parade me on your arm tonight and show the world that Octavia Morrow didn’t die. But I won’t let you treat me like some insipid little toy you think you can kick around if it misbehaves. Make whatever threats against Garrett you can, but I promise you this… If you hurt him, I will kill you. I will cut your heart out of your chest while you lie helplessly like this on the ground, and I will burn it.”