“No hurrying, Scarlet.”
He stood, his eyes devouring her as he unbuttoned his jeans. He was glad he’d never been a fan of underwear. One less layer between him and the nirvana that was her body.
Her eyes were glued to him, his hunger for her fully revealed as he stepped out of the jeans. He gently lowered himself on top of her, groaning aloud when the tip of his erection hit the soft skin of her inner thigh. It took every ounce of self-control not to take her then and there. Not to slide into the wet heat of her. He wanted to fill her with his passion, to explode inside the mysterious garden of her body.
But no. Scarlet wasn’t just anybody, some one-night stand. She deserved to be honored, and he intended to worship her body as long as he could hold out.
She was breathing hard and fast, her body rigid with a need that matched his. He reached for the lace bra, tearing it from her with an impatient tug. He tossed the strip of black fabric aside and lowered his mouth to her nipple. She gasped as he took it into his mouth. He sucked and teased, letting his tongue circle the hard little bud while his hand traveled the length of her body, exploring the dip of her waist, the full curve of her hip fitting perfectly in his palm. She was like the glaive in his hands, opening up under the magic of his touch.
He pulled away, leaving the nipple glistening as he let his lips travel the length of her abdomen. He marveled at the flat plane of her stomach as he touched his tongue to it. Then he moved lower, spreading her legs, revealing the milky skin of her inner thighs.
A jolt of need rocked his body when the scent of her desire hit him. Musky and sweet, it brought his orgasm to the very tip of his shaft, begging for release.
But, by God, he was going to taste her before he took her.
He kissed and nibbled his way up her thighs, lapping at the center of her, softly at first, exploring the folds of her flowering womanhood until she was slippery with wetness. Her fingers were entwined in his hair, holding him right where she wanted him. Right where he wanted to be. He took her little nub into his mouth, sucking and licking until she arched her back, pressed her hips up and into his mouth, coming for him over and over again, pulsing against his tongue as she cried out.
“More,” she gasped. “More.”
“There’s more, Scarlet,” he said gruffly, kissing his way back up her body, his sensitive tip resting against the sweet wetness between her legs. “So much more.”
He pulled away, groaning. “Condom?”
She gestured to the bedside table. He opened the drawer and pulled out the foil packet. When he was done, he lowered his lips to hers, the taste of her mouth, her skin, the slickness between her legs, mingling in their kiss.
He pillaged her mouth as he slid slowly into her, every inch a tortuous ecstasy until he was enveloped in her tight heat. He held still, trying to check his desire to thrust into her over and over again, as she gasped against his mouth.
When he was sure he had himself under control, his desire coiled tightly under his skin, he began to move, sliding in and out of her sweet wetness, slowly at first and then more quickly as she matched him, her body urging him on, her moans echoing through the room.
She was made for him. He filled every crevasse of her heat, his shaft rubbing against the little bud between her thighs with every thrust until she was so tight and hot she set him on fire from the inside out. He held back until he felt her fall over the edge, her body rocking as the orgasm rolled through her body, tightening around him with wave-after-wave as she clung to him like a life raft in a roiling sea.
He lowered his head to her neck, breathing in the scent of their passion as he filled her with his desire.
Eighteen
Scarlet lay tucked into the crook of Rowen’s arm as he slept, watching the candlelight cast shadows on his strong face, her mind and heart at war.
Falling in love wasn’t part of the deal. Especially not with someone in the Guard.
This had been a mistake. A beautiful one while it lasted, but a mistake nonetheless. The urge to get away was overwhelming, and she dressed quietly before leaving the apartment. She didn’t know where she was going, what she was doing. She only knew that she had to escape the confines of her growing feelings for this man who had fought his way into her heart without warning.
She hadn’t gotten far when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She looked at the display, surprised to see DISPATCH splayed across the screen.
“Hello?” she said into the phone. “Is everything okay?”
“Your father is fine, Miss Montgomery.” She recognized the puzzled voice as belonging to Miranda, one of the women who manned their emergency line overnight. “I just spoke to him.”
Scarlet breathed a sigh of relief. “What’s up?”
“Your father would like you to come in right away. A body washed up this morning. They think it’s Mikhail Krupin.”
Dread spread through Scarlet’s veins. “I’ll be right there.” She thought of Rowen, asleep in her bed. “And I’ll notify Mr. Black.”
“Already done,” Miranda said. “On your father’s orders. Mr. Black should be there soon.”
“Right, thanks.” Scarlet shoved her phone back in her pocket. She didn’t know if the knot in her stomach was because of Mikhail or because she would have to face Rowen sooner rather than later.
Either way, it didn’t matter. This is exactly why they couldn’t have a future. She couldn’t be worried about feelings when they both had work to do. Couldn’t be preoccupied with their relationship every time they were assigned together. She would tell it to him straight.
It had been nice. More than nice. It had been amazing. But it was over.
Nineteen
He was still on the phone with Ambrose when he registered Scarlet’s absence. He ran a hand along the sheets next to him. Cold. She’d been gone awhile.
He finished the call and sat up in bed. He should’ve been thinking about Mikhail. About the discovery of the man’s body and whether his glaive, like everyone else’s in the Guard, was intact. But Scarlet’s scent was everywhere, the musk of her on the sheets and blankets, on his skin, in his soul.
He remembered Scarlet’s skin under his hands, her soft body moving in perfect time with his, her cries as she opened up around him, spilling over the edge of desire as he filled her with his own.
But there was something else. A dull ache in his chest. A sense of loss at the knowledge that she’d left him without a word, like he was no more than a goddamn one night stand.
“Fuck,” he said into the empty room.
He dressed quickly, taking one last look at the apartment, wondering if he would see it again. If she wanted more from him than their night together, or if they would go back to being comrades-in-arms like nothing had happened.
He shook his head. He wasn’t the relationship type. He wasn’t built for it. He would only hurt her. Things would get complicated and uncomfortable. And he couldn’t afford complicated and uncomfortable, especially when he was beginning to think he might actually be able to keep his shit together with the Guard. Might actually be able to stay in Clifton a while.
He was glad she’d had the sense to leave while he’d been asleep. She’d spared them both an awkward morning filled with regret and stilted explanations.
He shut the door to her apartment and hurried to Guard headquarters. He’d just rounded the corner when he saw Scarlet heading toward the house from the opposite direction.
She was waiting for him when he got to the front gate.
“Hey,” she said, biting her lip. “So this thing with the revenant … Crazy, huh?”
“Yeah, crazy.”
An uncomfortable pause took up residence between them.
“Last night—”
“So about last—”
They both started at the same time.
“You go,” he said.
She shook her head. “Last night was … Well, it was great.”
When she looked into his eyes, ever
ything he’d told himself about not wanting to be with her was revealed as the lie it was. He wanted her. And not just for one night.
“I just … I have to focus right now,” she continued. “Because of my father. It’s already hard, being his daughter, being a woman, in the Guard. You know?”
He nodded despite the stone sitting on his heart.
“I can’t do it, Rowen.” Her voice caught in her throat. She looked away. “I just can’t.”
“I get it,” he said. “It’s cool.”
She inhaled deeply and gave him a tremulous smile. “Good.” She held out a hand. “So … friends?”
He took her hand, the feel of her skin, warm and smooth, causing him to flash on the feel of her belly under his palm, the soft skin on the inside of her thigh under his tongue.
“Friends,” he said, his voice hoarse.
She nodded. “Good. I’ll see you inside.”
She turned and headed up the walkway, leaving him on the pavement, the only time in his life he’d stood with his heart in his hands.
Twenty
Walking away from him was the exact opposite of what she wanted to do, which was to stand on tiptoe, wrap her arms around his neck, press her body against his, and kiss him in full view of anyone who happened to pass by.
But she kept moving, willing her feet away from him until she was inside the house, leaning against the door, trying to ignore the hollowness in her heart. It was the right thing. There was too much at stake.
She took a deep breath and headed up the stairs, her feet heavy on the treads. When she reached the door to her father’s office, she took a minute to compose herself. She needed to give him confidence that things were under control, especially with news of Mikhail’s body.
“Come in,” her father called after she raised her hand to the door.
Scarlet entered the room and crossed to the chair in front of her father’s desk. He looked even more worn than he had the day before, the creases in his forehead deeper, the fatigue on his face more obvious.
He didn’t bother with preliminaries. “I’m sorry to call you so early.”
She waved away the comment. “Have they checked Mikhail’s glaive?”
“Intact,” her father said. “Just like the others. I had our source in forensics check it twice: once at the scene and once back at the lab.”
“Could we have a mole in the foundry?” Scarlet asked. “Someone who could have made the piece with our brand?”
“I suppose anything is possible, but why? What possible motive would someone have to frame us for the murder of a revenant?”
“I don’t know,” Scarlet admitted. “I guess it would depend on who it was.”
Her father sighed heavily. “I’ll organize a meeting with the Legion’s Council. We’ll allow them to inspect the glaives. Surely that will be proof enough that we are innocent in the death of their revenant.”
But he didn’t sound sure. And Scarlet didn’t blame him. Counting on the Legion to be rational was like counting on the moon to be full every day of the month; you’d be right once or twice, but awfully disappointed the other twenty-nine days.
“What can I do?” she asked.
He stared at his desk a moment before rapping it softly with his knuckles. “Nothing, dear heart. I’m sure it will be fine. Besides, I think there are more important things to discuss.”
She raised her eyebrows. “What could be more important than this?”
He leaned back in his chair. “Let’s talk about Rowen Black. Something tells me there may be more to your relationship than this investigation.”
She silently cursed the heat that rose to her face. Rowen had only been with the Guard two days. How could her father possibly know there was something between them?
“Scarlet,” her father said, leveling his stern gaze at her. She felt like a five-year-old, “You’re not considering lying to me, are you?”
The breath left her body in a rush. “No, Father. It’s just that I can’t afford to worry about men right now. Not even Rowen Black.”
“And why is that?”
She didn’t try to hide her surprise at the question. “Well … because. There’s too much going on. The murder of the revenant, Ivan, your … illness.”
“My dear, I know I have been single-minded in my goal to maintain peace, but it would be my deepest regret if I have led you to believe there are not more important things in life.” He paused, studying his hands. “In truth, it is those things that give our duty meaning. If we are not working to preserve the beauty in life, the goodness, and yes, the love, what is our work for?”
She tried to straighten her back, to take refuge in the shelter of her logic. Except it didn’t seem very logical anymore. In fact, the more she thought about it, the less sense it made. Why couldn’t she stand by someone’s side and still be Scarlet Montgomery? Still be strong? Still be herself?
And if the others had a problem with it, if it changed the way they saw her, wasn’t that their problem?
Twenty-One
Rowen was still standing there when Kane appeared on the sidewalk carrying a cardboard tray bearing two paper coffee cups.
“Early morning?” The other man grinned at Rowen. “Or late night?”
Rowen sighed. “I think I’ll plead the fifth on that one.” He eyed the coffee cups. “Coffee machine broken?”
“They’re caramel macchiatos, Lily’s favorite.”
“Lily Montgomery?”
Rowen could have sworn the other warrior blushed. “She does a lot for us. You know, cooking and everything. It’s just a way to say thank you.”
Rowen chuckled. “Right.” He tipped his head at the cups. “Well, enjoy. The coffee and the company.”
He turned away, but Kane’s voice brought him back.
“Seems you have your eye on another Montgomery girl.”
Kane looked at him. “Don’t go there. No point.”
“For you or for her?”
“For either of us.”
Kane gave him a knowing nod. “Really?”
“Okay, probably more for her,” Rowen admitted. “She’s not into it.”
Kane seemed to consider his words before speaking. “I’d bet money that’s not the problem.”
“Then what is?”
“Scarlet’s had to fight for her position in the Guard. More than any of us. She doesn’t want to lose everything she’s worked for, that’s all.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
Kane sighed. “You don’t know much about relationships, do you?”
Rowen thought about it. “Women, yes. Relationships … I guess not.”
“She just needs to know you’re going to stand next to her. Not in front of her. Get it?”
“What? That we’re equals?” Rowen asked, hope sparking like a live wire in his chest.
“Scarlet’s a warrior,” Kane said. “Like you. Like me. Would you let someone take that from you?”
Rowen shook his head.
“So, go after her, man. Fight for her. I’d say she’s a woman worth fighting for.”
Kane headed up the walkway to the house, leaving Rowen standing on the sidewalk, Kane’s words echoing through his mind.
Twenty-Two
Scarlet ducked outside, her father’s words reverberating through her mind.
If we are not working to preserve the beauty in life, the goodness, and yes, the love, what is our work for?
She sat at one of the iron tables on the back patio and dropped her head in her hands. The sound of boots crunching on gravel got her attention. Great. The last thing she needed was to make small talk with one of the guys. Or worse, to listen to one of Ivan’s tirades.
But when she lifted her eyes, Rowen stood solid and immoveable in front of her.
He reached for her hand, pulling her to her feet. They were inches apart, but the temptation, the heat was still there, the draw of his body like a magnet to hers.
“I thought about w
hat you said.” His voice was gruff. “About not being able to deal with a relationship right now. About not needing the distraction.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded. “It’s what I told myself, too.”
She swallowed. “And?”
He pulled her hard against him. “It’s bullshit. We both know it.”
She shook her head, some distant part of her trained to fight for her independence even when it was the last thing she really wanted. “It’s not. It’s—”
He put a finger to her lips. “Do you think that I would tame you? Do you think I’d even try?” He shook his head. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Scarlet. So wild. Do you think I’d want you any other way?”
She was too breathless to answer. She could only look at him, the hope buried in her heart blossoming like a flower after a long, cold winter.
“Don’t you see, Scarlet? I want you. Not for one night or five, but for all of my nights and all of yours. I want to stand beside you. To be your friend and lover.” He took a deep breath. “And I don’t see how that can do anything except make each of us stronger.”
Her heart beat wildly in her chest. She had the feeling of standing on a great precipice, of looking over the edge and contemplating the jump. Except there came a point where you just couldn’t think about it anymore. Where you had to jump or take a step backward, wondering forever and ever if maybe, just maybe, you should have taken the leap.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his. “I can’t give you much. I can’t promise we’ll always agree or that I won’t piss you off. But I can give you my nights—and my days—if you’re sure you want them.”
“I want them.” A slow grin rose to his lips. “And don’t make plans. Because I’m going to keep you very, very busy.”
He buried his hands in her hair as his mouth opened on hers, claiming her, once and for all, as his own.
She was stronger already.
Acknowledgements
Thanks as always go to my agent, Steven Malk, for supporting me in every endeavor, even when they seem crazy. Especially when they seem crazy.
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