by Lara Adrian
He took her fist in his hand and pried it open, let the glass tumble out to the floor. Blood covered her palm, tiny rivulets trickling down her pale wrist. He stared at those dark crimson trails, and the curse he hissed through his fangs was raw, though not with anger.
He transformed even further, his face becoming starker, wilder. Otherworldly. She had seen him in his true natural form before, but never like this. This was Kellan Archer fully Breed, primal and thirsting, a formidable male predator with his sights set squarely on her.
He wanted what she would offer him now.
What had been his to claim all along.
“I belong to you, Kellan. There will never be another for me. Not even if I can’t be with you. Not even if you’re gone.” She glanced down at her bleeding hand still caught in his grasp. The wound in her palm wasn’t bad, but it didn’t take much for a bond to be activated. One taste. That’s all he needed to take, and he would be linked to her forever. “I need to be connected to you. In every possible way. Never mind what my vision says. It can’t stop us tonight. It can’t stop this.”
He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat as his fevered gaze lifted to meet her eyes. His fingers didn’t release her, remaining clamped around her wrist like a vise. His fangs elongated further, sharp points filling his mouth as he parted his lips on a groan. His glyphs pulsated, dark hues of thirst and desire churning all over his beautiful Breed skin.
Mira reached out with her free hand to stroke his face. “I offer you my blood freely, Kellan. If you’ll have it now.”
His blazing amber eyes slid back to her red-stained palm, his breath rasping through his teeth and fangs. He said her name, and it sounded like a tormented mixture of profanity and prayer as he drew her hand up to his mouth and licked the rivulet of blood that was running down toward her elbow.
Mira sighed as his tongue traveled back up her wrist, soft as velvet against her skin. He took his time, lapping up every bit that had spilled. Then he put his face in the heart of her palm, his trim goatee gently tickling, his lips hot and moist, his breath like steam against her sensitive flesh. He settled his mouth over her wound and drew his first true swallow.
She felt his body tense up, a jolt going through him as the bond to her took root. He moaned into her hand as he pulled in another taste of her. The vibration of his mouth, the wet heat of his tongue, the graze of his fangs against her palm—it combined into one of the most erotic sensations she’d ever known. Her body responded with a surge of pleasure and liquid fire.
Desire coiled deep within her, flowing out to every nerve ending as Kellan suckled from her palm. Her blood stirred to new life with each passing second, awakening to his kiss. She could feel it racing through her veins, eager to feed him. Arousal burned hot and fast within her, wet need pooling between her thighs. Twin points of radiant electric light bloomed inside her, one in her core, another at the spot where Kellan’s mouth was fixed to her.
“God, Mira . . . you taste so fucking good,” he murmured. “Your blood is so sweet, so powerful. Holy Christ, I can feel you in my muscles and bones, in my senses . . . so damn good.”
She caressed him as he praised her, and between their naked bodies, his cock stood erect, stiff and heated, while she was melting. Craving to be filled by him.
“Yes,” he said, his voice thick and hungered. “I can feel your need through the bond. I can feel your pulse, as if it’s my own.” His tongue swirled one last time into her palm, gently, sealing her wound. “I never realized how strong it would be . . . how complete. But I need to be inside you now.”
Without another word, he gathered Mira up into his arms and placed her back on the bed. He prowled over her, strong arms braced on either side of her, his big body poised above her in the dark. And his eyes—she was bathed in their glow, mesmerized by the desire she saw smoldering in Kellan’s otherworldly gaze.
She’d never seen him look so formidable, so incredibly powerful. He was magnificent in this state, fully transformed, nourished by the new bond that linked him to her for as long as they both drew breath. He was dark and fevered and gloriously aroused, and she quivered to feel all of his heated focus trained on her.
She was ready when he entered her, so ready. He drove in deep, the feel of him enormous, harder and hotter than ever as he moved inside her body. His mouth found hers and he covered her lips in a kiss that was demanding, fevered . . . thirsting.
Mira clung to him, wrapping her legs around him to bring him closer. She wanted to be fused together with him. Couldn’t get close enough.
She cried out when Kellan’s mouth left hers, then gasped as it drifted lower, settling just below her ear. “Take me,” she whispered as his lips found purchase on her neck. “All of me, Kellan. Take me.”
His answering snarl was feral-sounding and raw as his mouth clamped down more seriously against her throat. Desire spiked into her core as the tips of his fangs found their place at her carotid. Mira put her hand in his hair, fingers burrowing into the thick waves. She tightened her fist in demand, holding him in place. “Take me,” she rasped. “I’m already yours.”
“Yes,” he answered, rough and wild and carnal. He made a sound of dark hunger in the back of his throat. “Mine,” he said.
Then he pierced her.
Mira’s gasp was pure elation as his fangs went deep, and his hips thrust hard and long between her open thighs.
He would be dying soon—in a few hours or days or weeks, he couldn’t be sure—but Kellan had never felt more alive.
Pride swelled in him at the pleasured sound of Mira’s cry as his fangs penetrated her delicate flesh and pierced the artery that pulsed so robust and lovely against his tongue. Possession rocked into him like a massive wave as her body clung to him, her sleek, wet channel enveloping him, milking his cock as the first tremors of her orgasm began to ripple through her.
Her mounting climax echoed in his own consciousness, in all of his senses. Such was the power of the blood bond that now joined him to her. He should hate himself for taking this step with her, knowing there was no future in it. But she felt too good, tasted like sweetest heaven. And he’d wanted this intimate, unbreakable connection to her for too long.
He was greedy for all she could give him now, primal in his claiming of her body and her blood. She belonged to him. Her whispered pledge spurred him on now, made his thrusts urgent, his bite locked onto her with animalistic fervor, drinking her in.
She was his.
In this moment, she was his forever.
So easy to think it. So tempting to believe that he could stretch this moment into an eternity with her, keep Mira at his side as his mate for as long as they both drew breath.
And it was nearly impossible to resist the need that rose in him now, a need that urged him to complete the blood bond, to seal their connection by opening his own vein and feeding Mira a taste of him in return.
He wanted it with a ferocity that staggered him.
She wanted it too. He felt her craving for him, raw and thirsting. He heard it in her breathless moan, as she clutched at him and arched beneath him, her head craned to the side on the pillow, granting him total access to her carotid.
She wanted more of him. More than he was willing to give. He couldn’t let her drink now, not when her link to him would only increase her pain tenfold when they were parted by death.
“Please,” she gasped. “Oh, God . . . Kellan . . .”
God help him, he nearly gave in to her plea when she came in that next instant, her fingernails scoring his shoulders, his name a throaty roar as her release crested and broke. He wanted to bleed for her.
More than anything in that moment, he wanted to bind her to him and give her the same depth of pleasure she was giving him now. But he reined in the impulse with narrowly held control and dubious honor. Pressing his mouth to her open vein, he sealed the punctures with his tongue and braced himself for the rolling tide of her climax. Every nuance of her emotions branded t
hemselves on his senses. She came with the same unbridled intensity that she did most everything else in her life, her climax astonishing him with its force as the waves of her body’s release flowed through his veins as if his own.
He couldn’t slow the tempest building within him now too. With Mira’s orgasm still crashing over him, Kellan came too, shouting with the ferocity of it as his seed blasted out of him, scalding and ferocious.
And Mira’s sweet, welcoming body accepted all that he had to give.
He didn’t know how long it took before the aftershocks finally began to recede. Could have been moments. Could have been hours.
All he knew was the warm cushion of her body beneath him on the bed, her limbs still tangled around his, her fingers playing in the hair at his nape while he rested his head next to her shoulder.
It was her quiet voice that brought him back to the here and now.
Back to the reality of what they still faced.
“I don’t want you to go to the Order.” He felt her worry in the dull throb of her pulse, in the tang of dread that filtered through their new bond, into him. “I’ve changed my mind, Kellan. About wanting you to plead your case, trying to convince the Order and the Council to pardon you. I don’t want you to go anywhere near D.C. Neither one of us can ever go back there.”
“Ah, Mouse.” He kissed the bare curve of her shoulder, then came up on one elbow so he could meet her troubled gaze. “You don’t mean that. You’ve never been one to run and hide. That was always more my territory, remember? And look where that’s gotten us.”
“I don’t care,” she murmured, a stubborn edge to her tone. “Let’s just stay here, like this. For as long as we can, let’s just be together and make this last. Whatever it takes.”
He kissed her again, on the mouth this time, unrushed and tender. “I don’t want this to end either. Not now or ever. But I don’t want it if it means forcing you into a life of skulking in shadows and fearing what lies around every corner. I can’t do that, Mira. And we can’t stay here. It’s not safe for any of us now. We all have to get out of here soon, go to another location. Somewhere out of the line of fire.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere safe.”
His dread about the Order closing in on him was still very real and disturbing. And the prospect of either a stealth death squad or, after last night’s turn of events, a full-scale invasion was more than he was willing to risk. A sick guilt weighed down on him when he thought of Candice and Doc and Nina coming under heavy weapons fire amid the chaos of a raid. As for Mira, he knew his Breedmate well enough to realize that she would fight to her own death if she thought she could save him.
As he would for her.
And would, in a short time from now.
He hadn’t been much of a leader to his crew of rebels, not that it had ever been his intent to lead them. He hadn’t been anything close to a worthy mate to Mira either, and that he wanted more than anything.
But he still had time to do right by them all. He could put measures in place that would ensure a minimum risk of injury or bloodshed to his Breedmate and his friends. Only then would he be ready to do what he needed to do—confront the fate that waited for him at the other end of this increasingly inescapable path.
His plan took shape with resolute clarity as he took Mira’s hand in his, stroking his fingers over the perfectly healed heart of her palm. “We’ll leave as soon as possible this morning.”
She frowned up at him. “In the daylight?”
“As soon as we can,” he reiterated. Now that he knew what needed to be done, he wanted the plan in motion. “Nina has friends who can get us a vehicle, no questions asked. I’ll ride in back, out of the sun’s reach. One of my crew can do the driving. We can be there in a few hours.”
Mira was staring at him, a question in her muted gaze. “You’re taking me with you?”
“I want you safe,” he said, lifting her chin to meet his kiss. “You’re mine now, remember?”
“I’m yours.” Her smile nearly broke his heart, it was so pure and trusting. She burrowed deep into the curve of his body, molding herself to him. “Don’t let go, Kellan. Promise me you won’t let go.”
“I won’t let go, Mouse.” He wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she snuggled tighter and her breathing slowed to a contented rhythm.
And in that moment, he was glad for the absence of her link into his emotions.
Because if she’d been bonded to him by blood, she would have understood no matter how much he wished he could keep that promise to her, before the next dawn, she would know it had been just a pretty lie.
19
BY NIGHTFALL, NO LESS THAN A DOZEN MEMBERS OF THE Order had descended upon Boston.
Nathan led a unit comprised of his team of three and Mira’s squad, Bal, Torin, and Webb, who’d come in from Montreal to aid in her recovery. While Nathan and his crew scoured the old North End for leads on the rebels who held her, the other side of the city was getting a shakedown by Nikolai, along with Tegan, Hunter, and Rio, diverted from the D.C. headquarters and joined by Sterling Chase, director of the Boston command center.
To a man, they’d all vowed that dawn would not come without Mira being brought safely back into the fold of her family of the Order.
That pledge was cold water in Nathan’s veins as he and Rafe Malebranche split off from Eli and Jax and Mira’s three teammates, taking their search into establishments known to be friendly to rebels and their ilk. The club La Notte was their first stop, given that Rooster was a regular at the illegal arena there.
Nathan and Rafe walked in together, both warriors scanning the crowd. Upward of a hundred people were partying inside, clad mostly in black leather and heavy eyeliner, convulsing to the grinding pulse of an industrial rock band screaming about pain and betrayal onstage. Goth girls and punks, most of them human. All harmless clubbers. No sign of the criminal element Nathan was currently searching for.
As he and Rafe sliced through the churning throng, Nathan noticed La Notte’s proprietor eyeing them with less than enthusiastic regard. Cassian broke away from a pair of attractive women easily a decade too young for him and strode toward Nathan. He was dressed like many of his patrons, in head-to-toe black leather and heavy lug-soled boots. Tonight his cropped hair was a crown of gelled spikes, his bright green eyes accentuated by dark brows, each pierced by a pair of tiny silver rings. A black stud was stuck through the tip of his tongue.
“Didn’t realize my club was so popular with the Order,” he drawled. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.”
Nathan hardly paid Cassian any attention. “Check the arena,” he told Rafe.
As the warrior turned to carry out the order, Nathan continued to prowl the club at street level. Cassian was right at his heels. “The fights don’t start for hours, warrior.”
“We didn’t come to watch your blood sport.”
“No,” Cassian replied, “from the look of you, I’d guess you were here to start some of your own. Wouldn’t have anything to do with the hotheaded female from your operation, would it?”
Nathan had his hand clamped around the other male’s throat before Cassian could take his next breath. “What do you know about her?”
Some of the proprietor’s henchmen, including the cage fighter called Syn and a couple of others, emerged from out of nowhere and started closing in. Still caught tight in Nathan’s grasp, Cassian dismissed his thugs with a glance and a subtle twitch of his head.
“He won’t kill me,” Cassian said. “He would’ve finished it by now if that were his intent.”
Nathan was tempted, but intel was more crucial. “What do you know about Mira?”
By this time, Rafe had come back from downstairs. Nathan noticed his brother-in-arms from the corner of his eye. Skilled and deadly, Rafe had a blade in one hand, his other ready to draw the 9-mm semiauto holstered on his weapons belt.
Nathan didn’t let up
the pressure on the human’s throat. “I asked you a question. If you know where Mira is, you would be wise to tell me now.”
Cassian smiled, unafraid. Amused, even. “So many surprises lately where that one is concerned.”
“You know something,” Nathan pressed, certain he’d found the lead he needed. “Do you know where Bowman is holding her?”
“Holding her?” Cassian’s smile stretched wider. “My guess would be he’s holding her quite close.”
Nathan squeezed, taking uncharacteristically sadistic satisfaction in the man’s answering sputter. As Cassian coughed and wheezed, his henchman and fighters advanced another few paces. Rafe moved with effortless speed, placing himself between Nathan and Cassian and the approaching guards.
“Tell me where to find Bowman,” Nathan demanded coolly, “or I will kill you. Make no mistake. Your life is only worth the information you give me now. Where is Bowman keeping her?”
The club owner sucked in a restricted breath. “I can’t tell you anything about the rebel leader or your MIA comrade. Pity you weren’t here last night. You could’ve asked them yourself.”
Nathan’s blood went still in his veins. “What are you talking about?”
“They were here,” Cassian said. “Both of them. Talking to Rune downstairs at his dressing room.”
Son of a bitch.
Nathan slanted a stunned look at Rafe, who took off immediately for the back stairs. Nathan glared back at the man caught tight in his grasp. He let up only enough to permit Cassian to speak. “Was she all right? Did it look like he’d harmed her in any way?”
“Still had her sharp tongue and attitude intact, if that’s what you mean.”
“You spoke to her?” He didn’t like the sense of confusion that roiled through him now. He was accustomed to cool logic, calm calculations. This revelation was the last thing he expected, and despite his keen mind, he struggled to make sense of all he was hearing. “What did she say to you? Did you speak to Bowman too?”
Rafe came up from the floor below, shaking his head. “No sign of Rune down there.”