Kierland needed her against him, under him, surrounding him, with an urgency that shattered his self-control, but he could not allow himself to touch her like this. He had to change back, damn it, and he struggled to take command of the dark, primal hungers raging through his system, scraping him raw, as he forced his body into the shift that would transform him back into a man. But he lost the internal struggle before the shift was fully completed and pushed her to her back, covering her with the bulk of his larger, heavier form.
He was half-afraid she would scream for Granger or demand he get the hell away from her, but she did neither of those things. Instead, the beautiful little Watchman curled her hands around the back of his neck and lifted her mouth to his cheek. Her lips were exquisitely soft and cool against the burning heat of his skin as she pressed sweet, tender kisses to the places where her claws had cut across his face, though the wounds were already healed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking with tears as she lowered her head back to the rug, locking her watery gaze with his. “I was so scared you weren’t going to shift. You were dying, Kier…I was watching you die…and it…it was killing me. I had to do something, anything, to keep you with me. But I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here… I’m fine. Because of you. I’m not going anywhere,” he tried to murmur, his voice still too guttural, too much of the wolf in it for him to risk touching her. But he couldn’t stop himself. Fur had melted into burning rosewood skin, his head returning to its human shape—and yet, he still sported his deadly claws, his body bigger than usual, taller and packed with thick slabs of powerful muscle, capable of crushing her so easily if he wasn’t careful.
With his pulse roaring in his ears, his body aching with a violent wave of scalding lust and blistering need, Kierland braced himself over her, caging her beneath him, and rasped for her to take off her clothes. A warm flush burned beneath her creamy skin, her luscious, provocative scent growing stronger as she followed his rough command, her shields completely down. Catching her full lower lip in her teeth, she pulled her jeans and sweater from her body, the sight of her graceful curves and smooth skin ripping a dark, savage groan from his lips.
When her bra and panties were gone, and she lay beneath him naked and trembling with excitement, Kierland could only stare, mesmerized by the blinding, beautiful details, and the next thing he knew, his mouth was pressed to the lush curves of her breasts. His claws ripped gouges into the rug as he licked and suckled greedily at her deliciously pink, swollen nipples, loving their taste…their texture, then forced himself to pull away. Turning her to her front, he pushed the heavy fall of her hair over her shoulder, and reminded himself to take it slow…easy, while the wolf silently snarled that he needed to be in her now. He shuddered as he nuzzled the warm, silky skin on the back of her neck, her scent stronger in the damp strands of her hair. Beneath her ear. Behind her knees. Along the tender curve of her throat, where her skin was so fragile and smooth.
“Kierland, please,” she groaned, arching against him. “I need you. Please.”
There was so much fear, so much worry churning inside him, but he couldn’t stop himself from turning her back over and spreading her beneath him, her legs sprawled explicitly wide, her tender little sex as glistening and pink as some delicate hothouse flower. With his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts, he knelt between her sleekly muscled thighs, and greedily pressed his face against that most precious, intimate part of her, his mouth eating hungrily at her succulent juices, his tongue in heaven as he lapped and stroked and thrust inside her. She arched beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders, her head flung back, a husky moan spilling from her open mouth as she started to come for him with strong, rhythmic pulses of pleasure, and he couldn’t wait. Her breath sucked in with a sharp, startled cry as Kierland braced his weight on his left hand, retracted his claws and began feeding his cock into that tiny, narrow entrance, but she didn’t push him away, didn’t scream for him to get off. Instead, she reached up, cupping the hot sides of his face, and pulled him over her. The position forced him to go deeper, tearing another sharp cry from her lips as she touched her mouth to his, their torsos rubbing together in a steamy, sensual slide of skin against skin.
“Sorry,” he gasped, bracing himself on his elbows as he tried to keep from pushing, shoving, terrified he was going to hurt her. “It’s too much, damn it. You’re too small.”
“Am not,” she breathed against his lips, the huskiness of her voice slipping up Kierland’s spine like a smoldering lick of flame, curling around the backs of his ears, and he rolled his hips, another broad inch of his dark, vein-ridden shaft sinking inside her, spreading the tender passage impossibly wide. He knew he should get the hell away from her, but like a miracle, she was already getting wetter, slicker, bathing him in softness and heat. He sank a little deeper, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head at the intensity of it. Kierland had never, in his entire life, had sex when he was this close to his “were” form, and the sharpness of sensation just about killed him, not to mention the fear of just how far he could take this. He’d retracted his fangs, but they were still heavy in his gums, burning for release. He could so easily see himself opening his mouth, sinking those long fangs into the fragile slope of her shoulder, and making the bite that would forever bind her to him, body and soul.
Hell. It would have been so perfect, so right, if not for the fact that he was too much like his father, and she was a woman who would never truly belong to any man. One whose heart could too easily be given to another. She’d done it to him before. Wanted him, and then given herself to Granger. She would do it again. Would never be able to love him in the ways that he needed.
Love him? Oh, Christ.
He hadn’t wanted it, but there was no hiding from it any longer.
No, the truth had become startlingly clear to Kierland, like a big neon sign blazing in his brain, and he flinched from the brightness. This burning, incomparable lust had always been there…and he hadn’t tried to see past it, too afraid of what he might find. He knew damn well that some truths were better left unknown, unexposed, because you never knew what lies were the ones holding you together. The little half truths that made it possible to get through each day. Take them away, and there’d always been the chance that he might fall apart. Crumble into pieces, or shatter in some violent, rending act, like an explosion. Emotional overload, and God only knew that he sucked when it came to handling emotions.
And now Kierland had to face the terrifying, gut-wrenching fact that he was in love with Morgan Cantrell. A head-over-heels, heart-ripped-open-and-bleeding, worship-her-until-the-day-that-he-died kind of love. The kind that could never be broken or crushed. That would tie him in knots every minute of every day, for the rest of his godforsaken life.
A warm, glowing spark of warmth hovered at the edges of his consciousness, beckoning him, telling him that this was a gift. A miracle. Something to be valued and treasured and protected. But he couldn’t do it.
No matter how badly he wanted to, he could not surrender to it, because it scared the hell out of him, chilling him to the bone. And maybe, he realized, that right there was why Granger had walked away from her all those years ago. It was maddening to feel yourself consumed by so much worry for another’s safety, when there were so many dangers in the world. Even without the mountain of nasty, difficult issues that stood between them, Kierland knew he would never be able to get past the infuriating fear that something might take her away from him. Damn it, there were so many things that could go wrong. That could happen.
And as far as he was concerned, their current mission had become too bloody dangerous for her to remain in the Wasteland.
But I want her, the wolf snarled, seething with fury as it prowled the confines of his body. I need her. We need her.
With his jaw locked, Kierland struggled to block out that guttural voice as he straightened his arms, pumping himself into the cushioned, liqui
d depths of her body, forcing her to take him deeper…and deeper, and then she opened her eyes, and he almost flinched from what he saw as she stared up at him, locking her gaze with his. The soft gray swirled with too many emotions, like a window into parts of her that he knew better than to look at. He needed to rip his gaze away, damn it, but he couldn’t. She had a lock on him, and she wasn’t letting go.
Jesus. This was intolerable. He had to do something to set it right, while he still could.
Kierland could feel the blistering heat rising up inside him as he gritted his teeth, gripped her behind her knees, pushing them high and wide, and held her spread beneath him. Sweating and cursing, he drove himself as deep as she could take him, slamming his hips against hers, shoving himself into a scalding, explosive release, his body erupting with hard, visceral surges that made him feel as if he was spilling his bloody soul into her. His face was prickling with tiny pinpoints of hot and cold, his mouth shaking, his eyes burning with a suspicious sheen of moisture, and he started to turn his head, but she stopped him.
“No,” she whispered, reaching up and touching the damp sides of his face with her fingertips, the fluttering pulses of her inner muscles telling him that she’d found her own release while he’d been crashing over the edge. “I just… It’s so amazing….”
Reading the question in his eyes, she gave him a soft smile, then explained. “I just realized that you never look at me when you come. You always turn your face away. But it’s so beautiful, seeing the wolf in your eyes, feeling your pleasure burning down on me. It’s like I can see right inside you, Kier. I love it.”
HE SHUDDERED, HIS THROAT working, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Morgan could see the stunning emotions glistening in his pale gaze, could see the longing rushing through him, and it stole her breath. Melted her down, until she was a warm, boneless pool of love and desire beneath him, needing him forever…for always.
And then the fever-hot warmth of his gaze turned cold, something stormy and dark ripping through him, and he let go of her knees as he carefully began to pull himself from her body. “Damn it,” he growled, his lip curling with anger. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why not?” she asked, shivering from the look in his eyes as he slid her a quick, icy glance, then turned away.
“Too much of the wolf was still in me,” he muttered, moving to his feet, his body changing before her eyes, completing the transformation to his human form. He found the clean set of clothes she’d laid out for him and, keeping his back to her, he started pulling them on. “Why don’t you get it?” he grunted, his anger intensifying as he yanked on his boots. “I could have ripped you in two, Morgan.”
“But you didn’t,” she pointed out in a low voice, reaching for her own clothes. “And I loved it, Kier.”
“You didn’t deserve it,” he muttered, glaring down at her as he shoved both hands through the thick, tangled strands of his hair, his big, beautiful body all but steaming with frustration.
“Well, I happen to like all sides of you, Kierland. Not just the playboy one.”
He gave a tight, bitter laugh, and lowered his gaze, his hands braced loosely on his lean hips in one of those rugged, purely masculine poses that pulled the gray cashmere of his sweater tight across his magnificent shoulders. “Let the beast out of its cage,” he warned, “and who knows what will happen.”
“I’m not afraid of your beast. Or you,” she told him, pulling her sweater back over her head as she moved to her feet and fastened her jeans. “I’ll take you both on, Kier.”
“No, you won’t.” His voice turned hard, brooding, and another wave of chills broke out over the surface of her body. “Because you’re leaving.”
“What? The cabin?”
“No.” He slid her a shuttered look, then stalked away, heading across the sparsely furnished room to stand before its lone window. “You’re leaving the Wasteland,” he rasped, staring out at the twilight darkness of the afternoon. “I’ll go on and find Kellan by myself. Ashe can take you back to England.”
“What? What the hell are you talking about?” The hoarse, shocked words scratched against her throat, and she swallowed, feeling sick.
He braced one rugged hand on the frame of the window, the rage and tension vibrating from his big, muscular body striking against her like a physical blow, and she reached out, digging her fingers into the back of a nearby chair for balance. “This is too dangerous,” he said in a hard voice. “Last night was proof of that. I want you out.”
“Well that’s too damn bad,” she argued, furious with him for thinking he could toss her aside so easily. “Because I’m not going anywhere. And you need me to find Kellan.”
The firelight gleamed against the auburn strands of his hair as he shook his head. “We’re close enough now, I should be able to find him on my own.”
“Maybe,” she conceded, her voice thick. “But nothing’s definite. You’re willing to take that risk?”
A pause, and then he let out a deep, gritty sigh. “If it means getting you out of here, then yeah. I’m willing to risk it.”
Morgan was so angry, she could feel the fury as if it were something more than an emotion. Something that was a part of her. A living thing coiling through her body, seething and twisting and shredding her insides raw. “So that’s it? You’re just done with me?”
“I should have never even started with you.” His voice shook, his tall frame shuddering, as if on the verge of something explosive. “Worrying about you always led to trouble. I’m not going to keep doing it, damn it. It stops here.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered, the soft words thick with confusion.
“I make mistakes because of you!” he snarled, turning away from the window to face her, his gorgeous face set in a hard, emotionless mask, while his pale eyes blazed with fury. “And Nicole paid the price for it.”
“Nicole?” Morgan shook her head, completely stunned. “What in God’s name are you talking about?”
“At the academy. I…I wanted you. But I couldn’t let myself have you.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his voice a dark, gritty slash of sound. “It screwed with my head, how badly I wanted you. I made unforgivable mistakes, because I let you get to me. I didn’t want you hurt, and Nicole died because of it.”
Morgan wrapped her arms over her middle, shaking so hard that her teeth were chattering. “I…I still don’t understand.”
He pulled one hand down his face and dropped his head back onto his shoulders, staring up at the ceiling. “I didn’t want you to be a part of the attack that was ordered by the Consortium.” His breath roughened, his Adam’s apple moving beneath the corded stretch of his dark throat as he swallowed. “Not because I thought you were too weak, but because I couldn’t stand the thought of you being in danger. Of anything happening to you. That was why I refused to attack with the full unit of trainees. Instead, I took a few cadets with me to take out the nest, but it wasn’t enough, and the bastards got away. They killed Nicole in retaliation.”
Morgan couldn’t believe what she was hearing, her thoughts spinning as she began to piece together more of the crazy puzzle that made up their troubled past. “Kierland, you can’t blame yourself. They were monsters. It’s not your fault they killed her.”
Lowering his head, he locked his turbulent gaze with hers. “She wasn’t a random victim, Morgan. They chose her because they’d recognized me. Because I was the screw-up who let them get away.” A tired, bitter laugh that held nothing but anger and pain, and he cursed something rough under his breath, his profile stark as he turned his face to the side, staring at some distant point on the wall. “She didn’t deserve it. What they did to her. And the last words we ever said to each other were ugly as hell.”
“You had a fight?”
“Yeah.” Another low, bitter laugh slipped from his lips, and he popped his jaw as he shoved his hands back into his pockets. “She accused me of being ‘emotionall
y absent’ in our relationship, and she was right. It was the truth, because I was just using her to keep myself away from you. The night they killed her, I should have been there, but I’d left her alone. I left her without protection because I was too damn worried about you. I knew you were going to be at the drill that was taking place in the woods that night, and so I was heading there to keep an eye on you.”
Her chest ached for him, her heart breaking at the pain she could hear vibrating in his deep voice. “Still, it wasn’t your fault, Kier.” Morgan wished he would let her come closer, but could tell that he wouldn’t, and she didn’t want to force him from the room. “What happened to Nicole was a tragedy, and I’m sorry that she suffered…that you lost her, but you can’t keep blaming yourself for her death.”
He snorted, the auburn strands of his hair falling over his brow as he shook his head and muttered, “Like hell I can’t.”
“If she loved you, and I don’t know how she couldn’t have, then she wouldn’t have wanted you to feel this way. She wouldn’t want you spending the rest of your life blaming yourself for what happened.”
A heavy, breath-filled silence, and then he slowly looked in her direction, holding her stare, and she shivered from the raw force of his gaze. “Will you tell my why you were so determined to stay away from me?” she whispered.
For a moment, she didn’t think he was going to respond, but then he blew out a rough breath, and his voice dropped as he answered her question. “Because I knew there could be something between us.”
“And why would that have been so bad?” Her own voice was choked by emotion, her control shattering as she realized that this was it. That the next few moments were going to determine where they went from there. “Why won’t you let yourself feel anything for me, Kier? Why did you fight it so hard? Was it because of my bloodline? Because you were ashamed of me?”
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