by Julie Kenner
Brenna.
Oh, god, Brenna.
* * * *
I do not know why I am running, I only know that I have to. That it seems foolish, but it is not.
Because I know by some sixth sense I trust that this is my chance to have him. To save him. To save us.
And so I race down Fifth Avenue, silently thanking my Pilates instructor because at least I’m not completely winded, though I do have one hell of a stitch in my side.
But I can’t stop. I have to find him. Have to hold him. Have to look him in the eye and tell him that he is a huge asshole. A prick. A complete and total dumbfuck.
Because how the hell could he not know the depth of my feelings?
Then again, I didn’t understand my feelings either, which was why I let Rob kiss me.
So clearly I’m just as much of a dumbfuck.
Apparently, we really are meant for each other. A perfect pair.
The thought makes me giddy and I run faster—then quicken my pace even more when I hear my name and see him in the distance.
He’s running toward me from the opposite direction, and for one brief, surreal moment it feels like we are living in a movie. A sappy romance, and soon he will grab me around the waist and swing me around and the soundtrack will swell.
Except, of course, this is not a movie. Or if it is, it’s not a romance. Because just as he is about to cross the street to reach my block, someone tall and muscular tackles me from the side, and we go down hard.
“Bitch!”
I kick, getting the bastard in the face, and then race down the street toward Dante, screaming his name.
He runs to me and grabs my hand. “Fuerie,” he says, then makes a sharp right turn into an alley between two residential buildings.
The man—the fuerie—comes along, too. And apparently they travel in pairs because another one is right there behind him.
I scream because this alley is a dead end and I’m really not sure what else to do.
But then they are attacking, wild and crazy, with swords that seem more like whips but slice through everything. One catches the edge of my ankle and I scream, the pain almost more than I can bear.
He grins, as if the sound makes him happy, and starts to advance toward me.
Beside me, Dante is fighting the other one, who has a whip of his own, but at my cry, he kicks it into high gear. He has a weapon—like a sword of vibrant light. And he is slashing and hacking. I have never seen him fight, and he moves with grace and power, and in no time at all, the fuerie is headless. He stabs the sword through the fuerie’s heart, and the dead creature combusts, leaving only a pile of ash.
The other one lets out a wild cry and rushes me. I scream as it raises its whip hand, and Dante leaps in front of me, taking the brunt of the blow, the whip slicing hard across his neck and ripping open his chest.
He falls, his blood staining the asphalt.
I stand in shock. The fuerie is right there, sneering at me. Coming at me.
I grab Dante’s sword and I lunge, terror taking the place of skill. And though I do not know how I do it, somehow I manage to take the fuerie down. And then, with a burst of satisfaction, I drive Dante’s sword through the creature’s heart.
“Baby.” Dante’s voice is weak, and I kneel beside him.
“You fool,” I say, as tears stream down my face. “How could you not believe? How could you not know? Of course I love you. Of course I’m yours. I always have been. And I always will be.”
He shakes his head. “No, too risky. Doubt. That man. Don’t do it.” His eyes meet mine. “Don’t do it.”
But I know that I will. I know that I have to.
More than that, I cannot wait.
I take his sword, and I look my love in the eyes. And then I stand over his fallen body, one leg on either side of his waist. “I love you,” I say as I thrust the sword down and through his heart. “And now I’m going to prove it.”
* * * *
Pain.
And the sickening smell of burning flesh.
I am standing in a firestorm. The world and my body alight.
And with every tiny ounce of sanity within me I want to leap out of this circle. I want to run to the hospital and let them treat my burns.
I am immolating myself, and the pain—oh, the pain rips through me like talons, tearing my insides out, melting me, destroying me.
I try to gasp. To breathe, but the fire burns my throat. I am dying, I am living.
I am life and death all twisted around into one thing. One horrible, painful, writhing thing.
And then I am going. Death taking. The world darkening.
Fear wells in me, and I try to reach out. Try to call his name.
Because I am afraid that I am leaving now. That it is over.
That I have made a mistake.
And that I will never see Dante again.
Chapter Eleven
I’m alive.
I’m breathing, and I’m alive, and I’m his.
Joy sweeps through me, and I open my eyes to see Dante smiling over me. “You stupid woman,” he says, and I hear the fear in his voice. “You stupid, stupid woman.” He pulls me to him, hugging me tight even as I hug him right back. “You could have burned to death.”
“No,” I say. I pull back so that I can see his eyes, then I slowly tug down the neck of the nightgown that someone has dressed me in to reveal the new small phoenix now inked on my shoulder. “See? I couldn’t have.”
His laugh sounds a lot like a muffled cry.
And then he kisses me, hard and hungry, and it feels as though he has never kissed me before. And honestly, I suppose he really hasn’t. We’re bound now, truly together, in a way that we have never been before.
I’m his, and he is mine. Forever.
It sounds so long.
Hell, it sounds so wonderful.
I break the kiss, then press my palms flat against his shirt before looking up to meet his eyes. “Touch me,” I say. “Take me.”
His slow smile is all the answer I need, and I shift as he pulls the sheet back, then lift my hips so that he can peel the nightgown off me. I’m wearing nothing underneath, my clothes having burned away in the phoenix flame.
He bends to me, then presses his lips to the phoenix that now marks my shoulder. The sensation of his lips on my skin seems to cut through me, sweet and wondrous. As if it is a map of circuits and he has suddenly lit me up.
But he is not satisfied with that.
Slowly, and so deliciously sweetly, he starts to trail kisses all over my body, his ministrations setting me on fire. Again, I think, and then I laugh.
He looks up. “What?”
“You’re setting me on fire,” I say, and his laugh joins with mine.
“I’ll do more than that.”
He turns back to his task with focused determination. His hands hold my legs apart, and he very thoroughly kisses his way up my legs, then slowly—so painfully slowly—teases my sex with his tongue.
“Please,” I beg. “Please, I need you inside me. I need to feel you.”
“I know, baby. Me, too.” He straddles me, then slowly enters me, stretching and filling me until I can’t tell where he ends and I begin. We rock together, and it’s not frantic or wild, but gentle and sweet and wonderful. So many ways to touch him, to know him. And we have barely even scratched the surface.
“I can’t hold back,” he says. “I have to feel you.”
“Never hold back,” I say. “Not with me.”
His response is a low groan, and he thrusts hard into me, then faster and faster until the pressure builds between us and we explode together, our bodies and our souls twined as one.
I make a soft noise of satisfaction and go completely limp. “Mmm.” That is about the only sound I can manage.
He chuckles and pulls me close, and we stay like that for a moment, simply feeling. Simply enjoying.
“They were able to save Merrick?” I ask after a few moments, my
eyes heavy.
“They were.”
“Who will he merge with?”
“I don’t know,” Dante says. “Someone extraordinary. But he’s safe now. He’s safe because of you.”
I roll over so that I am straddling him, then use my finger to trace the outline of another newly inked phoenix on his breast. “We wasted so much time. Thirteen years lost because I was a fool, too scared to believe that I’d really found true love.”
“Don’t look at it that way,” he says. “Think of what could have happened if you’d walked away from me that first night in London. Or if you’d refused to help me when I found you in the Algonquin. So many things tried to drive us apart, Brenna. But it was love that pulled us back together. Don’t mourn those thirteen years,” he says, brushing his thumb gently under my eye to wipe away an errant tear.
“They’re just a blip,” he says. “And baby, we have all the time in the world waiting for us.”
Also from Julie Kenner and 1001 Dark Nights, discover Tame Me: A Stark International Novella.
A note from JK
I hope you enjoyed Caress of Pleasure!
Be sure not to miss any of the stories in the Dark Pleasures series:
Caress of Darkness (Callie and Raine’s story)
Find Me in Darkness (Mal and Christina, part 1)
Find Me in Pleasure (Mal and Christina, part 2)
Find Me in Passion (Mal and Christina, part 3)
Caress of Pleasure (Dante and Brenna’s story)
Learn more at my website, http://www.juliekenner.com
And be sure to subscribe to my newsletter so you don’t miss a thing: http://bit.ly/JK_newsletter
About Julie Kenner
J. Kenner (aka Julie Kenner) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal and #1 International bestselling author of over seventy novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres.
Though known primarily for her award-winning and international bestselling erotic romances (including the Stark and Most Wanted series) that have reached as high as #2 on the New York Times bestseller list, JK has been writing full time for over a decade in a variety of genres including paranormal and contemporary romance, “chicklit” suspense, urban fantasy, and paranormal mommy lit.
Her foray into the latter, Carpe Demon: Adventures of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom by Julie Kenner, has been consistently in development in Hollywood since prior to publication. Most recently, it has been optioned by Warner Brothers Television for development as series on the CW Network with Alloy Entertainment producing.
JK has been praised by Publishers Weekly as an author with a “flair for dialogue and eccentric characterizations” and by RT Bookclub for having “cornered the market on sinfully attractive, dominant antiheroes and the women who swoon for them.” A four time finalist for Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA award, JK took home the first RITA trophy awarded in the category of erotic romance in 2014 for her novel, Claim Me (book 2 of her Stark Trilogy).
Her books have sold well over a million copies and are published in over over twenty countries.
In her previous career as an attorney, JK worked as a clerk on the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, and practiced primarily civil, entertainment and First Amendment litigation in Los Angeles and Irvine, California, as well as in Austin, Texas. She currently lives in Central Texas, with her husband, two daughters, and two rather spastic cats.
Also From JK
Dark Pleasures
Caress of Darkness
Find Me in Darkness
Find Me in Pleasure
Find Me in Passion
Caress of Pleasure
Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom Series
Carpe Demon
California Demon
Demons Are Forever
The Demon You Know
Deja Demon
Demon Ex Machina
Pax Demonica
Blood Lily Chronicles (urban fantasy romance)
Tainted
Torn
Turned
The Blood Lily Chronicles (boxed set)
Protector Superhero Series
The Cat's Fancy (prequel)
Aphrodite's Kiss
Aphrodite's Passion
Aphrodite's Secret
Aphrodite's Flame
Aphrodite's Embrace
Aphrodite’s Delight
Aphrodite’s Charms (boxed set)
Dead Friends and Other Dating Dilemmas
Writing as J. Kenner
Stark Series
Release Me
Claim Me
Complete Me
Stark Ever After novellas
Take Me
Have Me
Play My Game
Stark International novellas
Tame Me
Stark International Trilogy
Say My Name
On My Knees
Under My Skin
Most Wanted
Wanted
Heated
Ignited
Devil May Care Series
(with Dee Davis)
Raising Hell (Julie Kenner)
Hell Fire (Dee Davis)
Sure As Hell (Julie Kenner)
Hell’s Fury (Dee Davis)
Say My Name
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Don’t miss Say My Name, the first book in the new Stark International trilogy by J. Kenner!
I never let anyone get too close—but he’s the only man who’s ever made me feel alive.
Meeting Jackson Steele was a shock to my senses. Confident and commanding, he could take charge of any room . . . or any woman. And Jackson wanted me. The mere sight of him took my breath away, and his touch made me break all my rules.
Our bond was immediate, our passion untamed. I wanted to surrender completely to his kiss, but I couldn’t risk his knowing the truth about my past. Yet Jackson carried secrets too, and in our desire we found our escape, pushing our boundaries as far as they could go.
Learning to trust is never easy. In my mind, I knew I should run. But in my heart, I never felt a fire this strong—and it could either save me or scorch me forever.
* * * *
“I want to know why you ended it.”
My chest tightens and I have to resist the urge to hug myself. I can feel the anxiety reaching for me even now, along with the nightmares and twisted memories that slink along, too. Slithering out of the night to fill my days. I shake my head, determined to keep it all banished, far and away. “It doesn’t matter.”
He turns from the window, his face a wild mixture of anger and hurt. “The hell it doesn’t.”
“My reasons are my own, Jackson.” I can hear the panic creeping into my voice, and I fear that he can as well. Deliberately, I take slow, even breaths. I want to calm myself. And, damn me, I want to soothe him.
I want to ease the hurt that I caused, but that’s impossible, because I can’t answer his question.
“Why?” he asks again, only now there’s a gentleness in his voice that unnerves me.
I stiffen in automatic defense, afraid I’ll melt in the face of any tenderness from this man. “You didn’t want to end it,” Jackson continues. “Even now, you want it.”
“You have no idea what I want,” I say sharply, though that is a lie as well.
“Don’t I?” There is anger in his voice. Hurt, too. “I know you want the resort.”
I’ve been looking at the tabletop, and now I lift my head. “Yes.” The word is simple. It may be the first completely true thing I’ve said to him since Atlanta. “Will you take it? You and I both know it’s the opportunity of a lifetime. Are you really going to let our past stand in the way of what can be a truly magnificent achievement?”
I watch his shoulders rise and fall as he takes a breath. Then he turns away from me to look out the window once again. “I want the project, Sylvia.”
Relief sweeps over me, and I have to physically press my hands to
the table to forestall the urge to leap to my feet and embrace him.
“But I want you, too.” He turns as he speaks, and when he faces me straight on, there is no denying the truth—or the longing—in his eyes.
I swallow as what feels like a swarm of electric butterflies dances over my skin, making the tiny hairs stand up. And making me aware of everything from the solidity of the floor beneath my feet to the breath of air from a vent across the room.
I force myself to remain seated. Because damn me, my instinct is to go to him and slide into his arms. “I—I don’t understand.” The lie lingers in the air, and I am proud of the way I kept my voice from shaking.
“Then let me be perfectly clear.” He closes the distance between us, then uses his forefinger to tilt my head up so that he is looking deep into my eyes. I shift, not only because the contact sends a jolt of electricity right through me, but because I’m afraid that if he looks too deeply into my eyes, he will see a truth I want to keep hidden.
“No,” he says. “Look at me, Sylvia. Because I’m not going to say this again. I told you once that I’m a man who goes after what he wants, and I want you in my bed. I want to feel you naked and hot beneath me. I want to hear you cry out when you come, and I want to know that I am the man who took you there.”
Adored
A Masters and Mercenaries Novella
By Lexi Blake
Author Acknowledgments
Thanks to Liz, MJ, Jillian, Pam and the whole crew at Evil Eye. It’s always a pleasure to work with truly creative people. As always thanks to my own crew – Chloe, Riane, Stormy, my husband and my son who will likely yell at me because of all the italics in this book. And to the amazing Steve Berry who I owe for the inspiration to make Mitch a lawyer. I also owe him five dollars.