She just...she just didn’t know if she could be a part of it.
But, oh, God, how she wanted to. She wanted to hold him and take him into her body and keep him forever, but didn’t know if she could be that brave. If she could say to hell with the fear and simply follow her heart, knowing there was such a strong chance that he would break it.
Trusting his touch had hardly been an easy decision, but this, tearing down that last barrier and letting him in, now that she was seeing things in a clearer light...this was so much more. Infinitely more intimate, because she would be showing him more than just her outer layer. She would be letting him directly into her heart, and there would be no more secrets, then. Not even from herself. Because of her bloodline—because she was witch—everything would be out in the open if they had sex, her true feelings laid out before him like a sacrifice, his to do with as he pleased.
That was what her mother had feared. And now Sayre feared it, too. Not because of his bloodline or his tortured past, but because she could feel the walls between them breaking down, crumbling to dust. Could feel herself being drawn dangerously close to the emotional truths she wasn’t yet ready to face.
But she wasn’t going to let it pull her away from him. Instead, she shifted closer, put her face close to his on the pillow he was using, and lifted her arm, curling it over him, her fingers pressed against his broad, powerful back. They were still lying like that nearly a half hour later, when his eyelids quivered, then slowly opened. Neither of them said a word as their gazes locked together, the only sound that of their rough, quickening breaths, the air around them building with a crackling tension that was thick and rich and provocative.
It was like they’d slipped into another world where the two of them were the only inhabitants. His eyes narrowed, focusing on her mouth as she caught her lower lip in her teeth. It was the hunger, the need, she could see tightening his beautifully masculine face and darkening the tops of his cheekbones that gave her the courage to reach down and undo the top button on his jeans. Then she undid his zipper, biting her lip even harder when it became abundantly clear that he wasn’t wearing any underwear, and she eagerly reached for him.
He grabbed her arm so quickly it made her blink, his low voice little more than a choked whisper. “What are you doing, Sayre?”
“Learning you.” She flicked her wide-eyed gaze up from where she’d been watching her trembling fingers try to curl around his long, shockingly thick erection, and she smirked when she caught his stunned expression. “What’s wrong, Cian? Did you expect me to run and hide when I finally got a good look at your goods?”
“Uh...”
She laughed softly, loving the way he felt against her palms, so hard and feverishly hot, the thick veins that pressed beneath his skin throbbing with the pounding beat of his heart. “I might not have your extensive experience in these matters, but I’m not afraid of you or the way you make me feel.” She stroked him tightly with both hands. “I’m not afraid of this.”
“That’s good,” he groaned, shuddering so hard that it shook the bed. “’Cause you’re his favorite thing in the entire fucking world.”
She smiled so big it made her face hurt. “That’s awesome,” she drawled with a wealth of satisfaction, unable to get enough of the way he was looking at her. His hooded gaze pierced her with its intensity, his every reaction telling her how much he loved the feel of her hands on that utterly magnificent part of his body. Her confidence built with each tremor of muscle and serrated moan, her touch becoming bolder as she gave herself the freedom to explore him like she’d always wanted to do. With her hot gaze focused on her actions, she gently tested the weight of that heavy, rounded part of him with one hand, while she stroked the other to the top of his shaft, studying the broad, flushed head. He was getting hot and slick there, and she used her thumb to rub the slippery moisture into his hot skin, encouraged by the way he hissed through his teeth, his nostrils flaring as he sucked in a harsh, ragged breath.
“Damn it,” he growled, the rigid shaft getting even harder—and bigger—in her hands.
If it weren’t obvious by her scent and the drunk-on-lust look on her face that she was thoroughly enjoying herself, the skittering sparks of light suddenly shooting off of her were an unmistakable sign.
“You gotta stop before this goes too far,” he rasped, his hooded gaze burning with molten heat, as if his beautiful eyes had been lit from within.
“Not gonna happen,” she responded, shaking her head.
He made a guttural sound deep in his throat, and pushed her onto her back. “You’re so playing with fire, little witch.”
She shot him a feisty smirk as she continued to stroke him, her power crackling in the air like an electrical storm, illuminating the room with glittering points of light. “Look around you, Cian. Fire doesn’t exactly scare me.”
His incredible silver eyes smoldered with craving as he lowered his face over hers, then lower, until their lips were softly touching. She shivered, loving the way he breathed her in, as if he couldn’t get enough of her scent, or her taste, his tongue stroking against her bottom lip once...then again. He nipped it with his teeth, his next breath a little harsher, tension coiled tight in the long length of his body as he pressed harder against her, his heavy erection throbbing in her grip. With a guttural curse on his lips, he shifted position, kneed her legs apart and moved between them. Then he pulled her hands off his cock and pinned them near her head as he pressed that massive shaft right against the seam of her shorts. She gasped, thinking it felt beyond wonderful, until he pulsed his hips, grinding against the moist cushion of her sex, and that felt so insanely amazing that her eyes nearly rolled back in her head.
God, in that moment, she would have given anything for there to be nothing between them. To feel him so deliciously hot and hard against her naked flesh.
“I want you so badly,” he growled, the gritty words vibrating with need as he braced himself on his elbows, his forehead dropping against hers. “So badly, Sayre, I think it could break me.” He reached down with one hand and shoved her shirt up under her breasts, his body pressed so close she could feel the mouthwatering flexing of his abs. Then he lowered his hand again, curled it behind her left knee and jerked it up against his hip, his next rolling thrust rubbing against her in a way that made her sob with pleasure, her nails digging into the sleek, powerful muscles in his back.
“Cian,” she moaned, unable to say more than his name.
“I would sell my goddamn soul for the right to take you,” he panted. “Take you for fucking ever.”
Her nails dug in a little harder, and she could tell by the flare of heat in his eyes that he liked the bite of pain. “It is your right.”
He grimaced at her husky burst of words and stilled at the end of a powerful stroke, his color fever-high as he started to pull his head back, his eyes wild. “God, I wish that were true.”
Curving her hands behind his strong neck, she pulled his mouth to hers as she gasped, “It is.” Then she kissed the hell out of him, hard and wet and aggressive, tangling her tongue with his...until he ripped the control right out of her hands, and took it for his own.
* * *
Claiming the sweet, sleek inner surfaces of her mouth with his tongue, Cian kissed Sayre so deep and explicitly, it was like he was trying to decode her. Lure out her unspoken emotions and secrets, craving the flavor of them. Needing anything of hers that was private and sacred, just so he could feel close to her. So he could hold a little part of her that no one else had ever held. Needing it to be his, and his alone.
He was thrusting against her with so much power now that the bed was slamming against the wall, and he wasn’t even inside her. But that wasn’t going to stop him from crashing over the edge so hard he damn near turned himself inside out. When it hit him a moment later, the force of his release was so intense it was
like his heart had stopped, every muscle and tendon in his body straining and taut. He kept his mouth locked tight against hers, growling hoarse, broken curses into that sweet, honey-flavored space as his body shuddered and pulsed, his climax spilling him all over her soft stomach and that sexy-as-hell tattoo. He could only breathe out a huge groan of relief that she’d climaxed with him, her throaty cries echoing in his ears, while the rich, drugging scent of her pleasure hit his system so powerfully he gave another hard pulse, completely drained.
Collapsing onto his side, back in his original position, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling her onto her side, as well. She lay facing him again, her flushed cheek pressed into the pillow, eyes closed, and he didn’t even spare a second glance at the god-awful shamrocks. He was too lost in Sayre, his heavy-lidded gaze devouring the sight of her still flushed from her orgasm. Then she lifted those long, gold-tipped lashes and looked right at him, and the smile she gave him was so damn beautiful it made Cian feel as if he’d been knocked upside the head with a bat, his ability to think all but obliterated. So he simply let himself feel...and enjoy. They lay there for what felt like forever, faces close together, breathing the same air, completely lost in the moment. Unable to keep the words burning on his tongue inside, he eventually said, “I know it doesn’t change anything, but I just...I want you to know that the women who came here to see me yesterday, they don’t mean anything to me, Sayre. They never did.”
She touched her fingertips to the stubble darkening his jaw, the tender caress making him tremble. “God, Cian. I don’t know if that makes it better, or worse.”
Understanding what she meant, he shifted forward until he could press his lips against the center of her forehead, trying to show her the tenderness she deserved as he cupped the side of her face in his hand and stroked her soft, warm cheek with his thumb. When her breathing became deep and slow, he gently pulled his head back, lost in the precious sight of her as she fell asleep against him, those beautiful lips curved in another soft, satisfied smile that made him feel like he’d conquered worlds. He wanted to stay there and watch her forever, but the gnawing feeling in his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten dinner. Forcing himself to get up, he changed his jeans for clean ones with hands that still weren’t quite as steady as they should be, and headed into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. A few minutes later, he went out onto the front porch for a cigarette, needing some more time to think in the quiet about everything that had happened...and how the little witch had surprised him, once again.
Instead of pushing him away after he’d unloaded about his bloodline and his past, she’d pulled him closer, and he didn’t know what to make of it. How to wrap his head around it, when he’d been so sure she would run screaming and never want to set eyes on him again.
Not yet ready to go inside after he finished his smoke, and not wanting to spend any more time worrying about Aedan, he pulled out his phone, took a seat on the top porch step and spent a long time cruising her blog, watching videos of her with the sound low. It was probably kind of stalkerish, but damn it, he was drawn to every part of the woman, and he couldn’t help feeling incredibly proud at what she’d achieved. Isolation would have broken most people, but Sayre had found a way to survive. And while he might be physically stronger, he didn’t doubt for an instant that she was stronger than him where it counted.
He was still huddled over his phone minutes later, watching the way the sun turned her hair a fiery red-gold in another video, when Jillian’s quiet voice came from just in front of him, at the bottom of the steps. “Did you tell her?”
Setting the phone down beside him on the porch, Cian lifted his head and nodded. “I told her tonight.”
“And how did she take it?” she asked, just standing there with her hands pushed in her front pockets.
He gave a husky laugh. “Better than I would have, that’s for damn sure. She’s...she’s friggin’ amazing, Jilly.”
She lowered her chin, her shoulders lifting as she pulled in a deep breath, and he suddenly picked up on her tension.
“What’s going on?” he asked, moving to his feet, his worried gaze locking tight with hers as she lifted her head and glared up at him.
“I’ve been so worried about her,” she said in a voice so low it was barely audible. “About how she would get on being back here, with so many of us around. But she’s doing great.”
He nodded again, the tension between them slowly building, making his insides churn. He knew something bad was coming, but he didn’t know what. Had Jillian seen Sayre with one of the other men? Had Sayre told her that she’d had enough of his bullshit? None of that fit with how she’d been with him earlier—but damn it, he didn’t know what to think.
When she didn’t add anything more, he asked, “Is there something else you want to say, Jillian?”
Her head tilted a bit to the side. “I was just wondering if you’ve figured it out yet? I didn’t get it until today, when I was spending time with her. So have you?”
He could feel a muscle begin to pulse in his jaw, his nostrils flaring as he pulled in a slow, deep breath. “Figured what out?”
Stepping up onto the bottom step, she said, “Before you left, I actually felt bad for you. I knew you were afraid of what was between you and Sayre, but I had faith that you would find your backbone and do the right thing. But you didn’t. You ran like a coward, and we...we lost her. Because of you!”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She climbed onto the step just beneath him, fuming with rage. “She went into that meltdown with her powers because you left her! It wasn’t the war or the battle or her powers growing too quickly—it was you!” she hissed, shocking the hell out of him when she reached up and slapped the side of his face so hard it jerked his head to the side. “I sensed it, when it started, when you started feeling that pull for her. But I didn’t panic, because I was so sure you were going to figure it out and do right by her. I’d seen the way you stared at her, the way you watched her...like a man who’d finally found the answer to every wish he’d ever had. And then you ran!” she shouted, tears spilling from her glistening eyes and rolling down her cheeks. “Did you ever stop for one second and think about what that would do to her? Did you, you selfish son of a bitch?”
“Jilly, come on,” Jeremy murmured, seeming to come out of nowhere as he wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist and pulled her back against him. A sob broke from her throat as she glared up at Cian, waiting for his answer, and he felt like the lowest pile of shit that had ever existed.
“Christ, Jillian. I’m...sorry,” he choked out.
“You should be. Because when you bail on her again, guess what? It’s going to happen again, Cian. And she’ll run. We’re going to lose her, because you’re too much of an asshole to grow up and do what’s right!”
“Jilly, baby, that’s enough,” Jeremy rumbled, as he lifted her up and cradled her against his chest. She wound her trembling arms around his neck, pressed her tear-soaked face against his shoulder and let him carry her away, her muffled sobs echoing softly on the wind until the Runner had taken her into their cabin.
Feeling as if he were moving through quicksand, Cian turned and climbed back up the steps, the side of his face still stinging as he reached down and picked up his phone, thumbing it off. Then he went back inside, locking up behind him. When he walked into the bedroom, he was surprised to find that Sayre was still asleep, cuddled up in the middle of the bed. He figured it was a miracle that Jillian’s shouting hadn’t woken her, but he was glad. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and hold her in his arms, so after stripping off his jeans and slipping on a pair of boxers, that’s what he did.
And then, with her body tucked up close to his, he finally let himself think about what had happened. About what Jillian had told him.
Yeah, he’d picked up on the fact th
at Sayre was handling being in the Alley better than any of them had hoped. And maybe he’d known, deep down, why that was. But he hadn’t let himself admit it. Hadn’t wanted it to be true. Hadn’t wanted to be the cause of even more of her pain. More goddamn friggin’ pain than he could ever atone for.
He knew he should walk away from her, but—
So she deserves to be alone? Forever? his wolf grumbled, cutting him off. Because after what you learned tonight, you know that’s what will happen!
God, the beast was right. If he truly were the thing stabilizing her power, or buffering it, or whatever was going on between them, then what would happen when he left? It stood to reason that she would suffer the same problems as before, just like Jillian had said. That she would be forced back to her little cabin in West Virginia. Alone. Isolated. The most beautiful woman in the world, in his eyes, wasting away because of his screwups.
Not if we stay with her. Not if we claim her.
He gritted his teeth, hating how tempting that suggestion was. How deeply it called to him, the visceral need felt in every single cell of his body. One there was a damn good chance he would no longer be able to resist, whether it was best for her...or not.
But no matter what, he had to kill Aedan first. Had to destroy that threat. And if by some miracle he survived, well...there were things he would obviously have to figure out then. Sayre deserved more than a hollowed-out man who’d had the ability to love burned out of him, if he’d ever even had it to begin with. So he would have to figure out a way to...to somehow...
Shit! He didn’t know. There was no goddamn magic answer in this twisted situation—but the one thing he vowed he wouldn’t do was run. Not until he’d figured things out and knew, without any doubt, that she was all right. That she wouldn’t have to go back to living in her own little world of seclusion.
But for tonight, he just wanted to hold the little witch in his arms...and find a moment of peace. As a man who’d never had many of them, he knew to hold on tight and grab them when he could. And none had ever been as perfect or as sweet as this one, which seemed fitting.
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