by Lara Adrian
Cain didn’t like thinking about how close to death she’d already come since arriving in the States. Meanwhile, her uncle seemed insulated from the danger. And above his boss’s suspicion or his wrath. All of which made Cain’s Hunter instincts prickle to attention.
“If Yury and the sniper weren’t protecting Karamenko’s interests, then whose? If Karamenko or his men have been tipped off that your uncle is making a big move—not to mention using that intel to facilitate it—then it doesn’t make sense to me that your uncle is still alive. Karamenko was standing with him like an old friend in that photo from the party the other night in Moscow.”
A furrow rankled her forehead. “What are you trying to say?”
“I don’t like this. Something’s not adding up.”
“You would feel better if my uncle was dead?” She blew out a shallow breath. “He’s been navigating the world of Bratva for thirty years. He’s careful. And he knows to keep his enemies as close as his friends.”
Cain grunted, less than convinced. “Is it a friend or an enemy who’s agreed to shield him in exchange for the information on that drive?”
“Neither, I suppose. This is a business transaction. The man I’m meeting is a Cuban named Ernesto Fuentes.”
“Fuentes. Jesus Christ.” Cain’s molars clenched at her casual mention of Havana’s most notorious crime lord. If enlisting Marina to cross Karamenko wasn’t risky enough, Moretskov was also sending her into the orbit of a man reputed to have killed his way to the top of the food chain on the island located some three-hundred miles from Florida’s Key West. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“It’s all been negotiated. Fuentes should be calling me with the date and location for the hand-off anytime now.”
The fact that she seemed well aware that her contact was the leader of the Cuban mob made him want to punch something all over again. Preferably her uncle, who was either stupidly reckless with his niece’s life or willfully negligent. Either way, Anatoly Moretskov deserved a lengthy conversation with Cain’s fist.
He took the device out of her hand. “You need to turn this over to JUSTIS. Let your uncle negotiate with them for his asylum. Not you. And not with a savage motherfucker like Fuentes.”
It was a good plan, the only reasonable alternative to letting Marina take this even one step further. But she was shaking her head. “I’ve already tried to persuade Uncle Anatoly to go to JUSTIS for help. He refused. He said he can’t trust law enforcement to protect him. And besides, it’s too late to change course. Those files are no good to anyone but Fuentes.”
“How so?”
“Because they’re locked with a complicated encryption. It takes two keys to open the disk and any tampering or a single incorrect attempt at either key will destroy the data.”
“Shit.” Cain didn’t like the sound of that at all. Not when Marina’s life was on the line. “What kind of keys? Who’s got them?”
“I have one,” she said. “Uncle Anatoly has given the second one to Fuentes. We’ll unlock the disk together when I meet with him.”
“No. No fucking way.” Cain shook his head. “Then you’re going to give me your goddamned key and I’ll take it to Fuentes in your place.”
“I can’t do that. I have to be present for it to work.”
“What do you mean?”
She swallowed. “I am the key.”
He had no idea what she was talking about—that is, until she lifted her right arm and turned it over so he was looking at the thorny vine of roses tattooed on her tender, pale skin.
“The code is optical. It’s embedded in the ink right here.” She ran her fingertips over the top of a pretty blood-red rose on her inner forearm. “No one can access the information without me being there to unlock the first encryption. Fuentes has the second key, a numeric code he’ll enter in tandem with mine.”
Cain closed his fingers over the device and bit off a low curse. The temptation to crush the piece of plastic and circuitry into dust in his hand was nearly overwhelming. Marina likely sensed the direction of his thoughts, because she reached out and covered his hand with hers.
“You told me I could trust you, Cain. So, that’s what I’m doing—trusting you with the truth. But I need to be able to trust you too.”
She didn’t move her hand from his. Her fingers remained wrapped over his, warm and soft, yet as tenacious as the determined burgundy gaze that also refused to let him go. Cain wanted to pull away. He wanted to rescind the protection he was honor-bound to provide her—protection her imploring gaze demanded of him now.
But he couldn’t find the words.
Couldn’t muster the will to break their contact, not even when he knew that maintaining his distance might be the only way he could truly keep her safe.
With his free hand he stroked the soft skin of her forearm, running the pad of his thumb over the inked roses and delicate tangle of vines. He couldn’t see the code concealed within the design, but he was no longer interested in talking about her uncle or mafia business or the clandestine meeting that brought her into his life in the first place.
The only thing that existed in that moment was the feel of their joined hands and the desire to bring her closer. To never let her go.
Cain cupped her warm nape with his free hand. His other moved to deposit the data drive into the pocket of her dress. Using the power of his mind, he closed the door to his quarters and set the lock.
He was finished thinking about anything but her now. And the need to feel her in his arms.
She didn’t resist in the least, melting into him as he bent his head and captured her mouth with his. Her soft moan vibrated against his bare chest, stirring a heated growl from deep within him.
The need that had ignited between them at the pool leaped to life again, burning swifter and hotter than before. His blood pounded in his temples, in his chest, and in the aching length of his surging erection.
He couldn’t stop the eruption of his fangs. The sharp points punched out of his gums as he took the kiss deeper, needing to taste her, to claim her. All over his torso and arms, his dermaglyphs pulsed to life, the flourishes and sweeping arcs of his Breed skin markings churning with changeable colors as his arousal intensified.
Marina made a quiet sound as her tongue met his, stroking and plunging, teasing and taking.
Cain growled with fevered pleasure, even as their kiss careened toward a hunger he wasn’t sure he could control if he wanted to.
It was Marina who broke the kiss. Panting and breathless, her mouth swollen and wet, she drew back from him on a shivery gasp. It didn’t sound like fear. It didn’t sound even remotely uncertain.
She reached up to his face, her palm resting lightly, tentatively, against his cheek. Her fingers strayed toward his parted lips . . . toward the razor-sharp daggers that filled his mouth. She swallowed, her gaze flicking up to meet his.
“Cain.” She spoke his name the way she had on the balcony of her hotel suite in Miami that first night. As it had then, her whisper chased a bolt of need through him. Fire licked along his veins, inflaming every hard inch of him.
The glow of his transformed eyes reflected back at him in her wine-dark irises and fathomless pupils. No hope of gentling the way he looked. He was too far gone. Too hungry for the woman staring at his transformation from man to beast.
He held himself still, refusing to move when he knew if he did it would only be to pull her against him again. And if he did that now, he wasn’t going to have the will—or the honor—to let her go.
But Marina didn’t back away.
Her fingertips traced his lower lip, grazing the points of his fangs. Then her hand slipped around the back of his neck, the line of each finger searing him with an anticipation that wrenched an unearthly hiss from between his teeth and fangs.
She held his fevered gaze. “You don’t scare me, Cain.”
Then, as if to prove the point, she drew his head down, her grasp firm at his nape as she crushed h
er mouth against his.
CHAPTER 13
Marina thought she knew what she was asking for when she pulled Cain down for her kiss. She thought she was prepared for the heat, for the power, of this man. She thought she was ready to feel the dark need he stoked within her, but she was wrong.
Nothing could have prepared her for the erotic intensity of what Cain aroused within her.
Not because he was Breed, although it was impossible to ignore all the ways that he was more than any other man she’d known. More than human. Holding on to him was like wrapping her arms around a storm. Energy poured off his muscled body as he claimed her mouth. His tongue invaded, thrusting past her parted lips and stroking inside her mouth in a carnal rhythm as his big hands palmed and kneaded her breasts over the thin silk of her dress.
Her heart spiked with each startling rasp of his fangs against her lips and tongue. And in the wake of each dangerous graze, heat licked through her veins, need gathering in a deepening pool in the center of her being.
She wanted more. Her spine arched with the jagged moan that boiled out of her, but she didn’t care how obvious her desperation was for him.
“Tell me to stop, Marina.” A low command, as coarse as gravel. Yet he continued to kiss her, to caress her. His hands moved around to cup her backside, fingers clenching her ass as he brought her tight against his hardness, leaving no question about where they were heading if she didn’t pull away now. “You know what I am. Hunter. Killer. Monster. I don’t have it in me to be gentle.”
Reaching up, she framed his handsome face in her hands. “I’m not asking you to be.”
With her eyes locked on the fiery orbs that stared back at her, she ran her palms over his broad shoulders and the solid muscles of his chest and arms. The elegant dermaglyphs that swooped and twisted across nearly every inch of his bared torso responded to her touch like living things, their colors growing richer, more pronounced. She couldn’t keep from marveling at them. She couldn’t resist lowering her mouth to them and tracing the mesmerizing arcs and swirls with her tongue.
Cain’s fingers tangled in her hair, holding her to him as she kissed and explored. His body shuddered as she flicked her tongue over his smooth, hot skin. His pleasure only made her bolder. She licked her way over to the beaded nub of his nipple and suckled it between her teeth while she slid a hand down to cup the massive bulge of his erection over the top of his shorts.
“Ah, fuck.” A groan tore from his throat as she stroked and squeezed him. His pelvis bucked, the hard length of his cock swelling even larger in her grasp. “Marina.”
Her name was a growl as the hand clutching her ass swept down to seize the hem of her dress and gather it roughly out of the way. His palm skated like a flame up the length of her bare thigh, back to the rounded curve of her behind. He squeezed firmly, possessively, strong fingers sinking into the cushion of her flesh.
The hand that was twisted in her hair tightened and he tipped her head back to accept his kiss. His mouth took hers, a savagery in the way he claimed her. She melted into his power, swept under by the demand of his kiss and the heat that sizzled through her body everywhere they touched.
His questing hand moved higher under her loose dress. With nimble fingers, he unfastened her bra, then caressed her naked breasts. She moaned at the pleasure of his touch, gasped at the sharp twinge of pain as he pinched her swollen nipple, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers as his kiss continued to devour her.
Her need was molten now, lust turning her blood into rivers of fire. She groaned when his mouth left hers, then exhaled a ragged sigh when his kiss trailed from below her ear to the curve of her shoulder. The heat of his lips, the careful scrape of his teeth and fangs, opened a craving in her for something she was afraid to let take shape in her thoughts, let alone put into words.
“You taste so good,” he rasped, his deep voice thick, hot against her skin. “Feel so good.”
The hand caressing her under her dress moved down to the juncture of her thighs. He slipped inside her panties, his long fingers delving into the slick cleft of her sex. “Christ, you’re so wet. So fucking hot.”
She couldn’t contain the desperate whimper that escaped her as he stroked and teased her sensitive flesh. Her body wept for him, desire swamping her in a need that was raw and urgent, and belonged wholly to him.
Maybe this was how every woman felt with Cain. All the nameless, faceless women he seemed to dismiss so casually. Maybe this was his true power—the ability to make a woman burn for him down to her soul, down to a part of her she didn’t recognize and was too afraid to acknowledge.
Yet even if it was, Marina didn’t care. Not right now. Not when Cain was kissing her, touching her so wickedly.
Sensation arced through her as he toyed with her clit, his thumb and fingers drenched with her juices, his hand flexing and contracting over her mound. She cried out when the pleasure began to build and coil, rushing her toward climax.
“Cain, please,” she gasped, but whether she begged for release or some way to prolong the delicious tension he stoked in her, she wasn’t sure.
Cool air skated across her behind as he lifted her dress higher. Her panties were gone with a tug of his fingers and a snap of renting satin and lace. Then his hand moved around her, slipping to the back of her thigh. He lifted her leg up around his clothed hip. Holding her against him, he ground into her with the steely ridge of his erection, giving her only a taste of the friction and heat and hardness she was starving for now.
Arousal flooded her, making her bold and wanton, wild with impatience to be rid of their clothing. She moved her hips against his, seeking a deeper connection, relief from the intense ache.
Cain’s other hand moved between them and stroked along the exposed seam of her body. “Tell me what you want, Marina.”
“You. Oh, God.” She shuddered when his fingers cleaved between her folds, drew in a broken sigh when one long digit entered her, plunging deep. Her sheath contracted around him, shameless and needy. He added another finger then, stretching and filling her, yet only making her yearn for more. She rode his hand with abandon, with raw and urgent demand. “Cain, I want . . . Oh, God, I need—”
Her plea broke off on a sharp cry as her orgasm rushed over her. Cain showed her no mercy, just as he’d promised when they began. He continued to fuck her with his fingers, with the heel of his palm rubbing with relentless torment against her clit.
She was still spiraling on wave upon wave of sensation when she felt his touch retreat and fall away. She groaned, knowing her wordless complaint couldn’t be mistaken for anything less.
Cain’s chuckle vibrated against her. His transformed eyes were ablaze as he drew back to look at her. The points of his fangs flashed with his brief grin. “Don’t worry, I’m not finished with you yet.”
He kissed her again, then stripped off her dress and bra and shoes. In another moment, she was lifted completely off her feet as he wrapped both her legs around his waist. He carried her to the bed and deposited her on the king-size mattress.
His gaze riveted on her, Cain shoved down his shorts and stood before her like a god. Naked. Immense. Unearthly masculine and fully aroused.
Marina reached for him, greedy to feel the heft and strength of him in her hands. But he allowed her only a few strokes of his heavy shaft. On a feral growl, his hands settled on her shoulders, pushing her onto her back. She waited for him to cover her with his body, practically whimpering with the need to feel him inside her.
But there was no mercy in his molten eyes. Lord, not even close.
Spreading her legs wide, he sank down between her thighs. His dark head lowered, then he claimed her sex the same way he’d dominated their kiss. Hot. Ruthless. A scorching siege of her body and senses that incinerated all of her control.
She had none with him now.
He owned this wanton part of her, and God help her, but he knew it.
She was lost to him, and she couldn’t even hop
e to pretend she would ever be the same.
CHAPTER 14
He told her he couldn’t be gentle, and damn it, he’d meant it.
He had never known himself to have much honor, but he had issued the warning in the hopes that Marina would have the clearer head. Hell, he’d hoped to scare her off with the truth and spare himself the torment of wanting her the way he did.
Of craving her like the beast he truly was, down to his marrow.
The man who could never be worthy of a woman like Marina.
And a Breedmate besides, for fuck’s sake.
That fact alone should have given him the strength to turn her away.
Now, nothing could save her. The first orgasm she’d surrendered to him as he stroked her with his fingers had damned them both. If he had any decency in him, that understanding would shame him. Instead, all he felt was a dark satisfaction. And a singular need to make sure no other man—Breed or human—could ever show her the kind of pleasure she was sharing with him tonight.
She was on the verge of another orgasm, her slick, tender flesh scorching his lips and tongue as he feasted on her sex. Cain suckled her clit, drawing the taut pearl deep into his mouth. She writhed against his face, uninhibited and wild. Greedy for more.
He couldn’t get enough, either. As much as he wanted—needed—to be inside her, he couldn’t drag himself away from the honeyed sweetness of her sex.
Or the strong, steady hammer of her pulse.
He could hear the blood rushing through her arteries and veins, could smell its unique roses-and-spice fragrance all too close to his mouth and the sharp fangs he struggled to keep in check. Saliva surged in his mouth, a Pavlovian response from the preternatural side of his nature. He growled in denial of the urge that swamped him.
No. Fuck no.
That part of her would never be his.
Only her pleasure.