by Sable Grace
And demigod or not, he wasn’t sure he had the power to make that hurt go away for her.
“Uh-oh. Looks like someone’s thinking.”
Kyana’s voice ripped through Ryker’s musings. “What’s wrong with thinking?”
“In your case it usually means the fun’s over and the all-too-serious Ryker’s back in control.” Kyana pressed herself closer to him. Her nipples brushed against his skin, making him hard all over again. “You might as well tell me whatever it is.”
As her gaze drifted downward, a small O formed on her lips. “Or maybe I can guess.”
He adjusted his pants to hide the evidence of his thoughts. “What do you expect?” His fingers tightened around hers. Forcing several deep breaths into his lungs, he fought for control. “You’re naked.”
“Glad you finally noticed.” Laughter lightened her sleep-husky voice.
Finally? Surely she wasn’t that dense.
Ryker rolled slightly so they lay nose to nose. She snuggled against him, her warm breath caressing his neck. For the first time since he’d rejected her advances the night they’d met, she wasn’t demanding or trying to goad him into using her body for a few minutes of pleasure. He wanted her, but not like that.
This time, she seemed content to take what he had to offer and not ask for or demand more. When she was like this, it was easy to forget they were so different. That they wanted opposite things, both out of life and from each other. This, he wanted.
Her body relaxed against him as sleep threatened to take hold of her again. Ryker caressed her back. She purred, lifting her face, silently asking for his kiss. He told himself not to give in to the moment. That nothing lasting would come from the time they shared, but his body refused to listen. Slowly, he closed the distance between them and covered her mouth with his, his heart pounding at the sound of her surprised gasp.
Teasing her lips apart, he lost himself to the taste of her, to the feel of her tongue dancing across his. There was no competition, no struggle for control. He could give himself this much. He could hold on to his control and delight in the feel of her . . .
It didn’t take long for the fog of sleep to finish lifting from Kyana’s mind. Ryker was kissing her. She hadn’t asked for it, hadn’t coerced him. He’d come to her. As hunger and greed for what he offered overtook her, she became the aggressor, nipping Ryker’s lip, demanding more.
Not giving herself time to think about what she was doing . . . or why he was suddenly so pliable . . . she opened to him. He slipped his tongue over her fangs, then paused. It took twice more before Kyana caught on to his silent instructions. It had been a lifetime since she’d mated with someone who had fangs. Kyana mimicked his actions. Desire spiraled through her, pooling in her belly. She groaned, rocking her hips against his, cursing the khaki barrier between them.
Ryker ended the kiss and leveled himself up enough to look into her eyes. His cock throbbed against her belly. “No games, Kyana.”
“I don’t want games,” she mumbled, trying to capture his lips again.
He avoided her caress until frustration forced her to look at him.
“Don’t turn this into a power struggle, Ky.”
Kyana held his gaze. He knew her far too well for her own comfort. He’d tasted her blood. He’d seen her thoughts. Denying her intentions would have been pointless. But why did it matter that she liked to be in control? They both wanted this. He could deny it, but the evidence not only throbbed hot and hard against her, but darkened his silver eyes to steel.
“Are you afraid of losing?” she asked quietly. “A power struggle, I mean.”
His gaze never wavered. “Yes.”
That shocked her all the way to her toes. Ryker was afraid of her? She almost purred with satisfaction.
She finally understood the reason for his uncertainty now. This was about trust for him. About her finally believing that he was a good guy who wouldn’t hurt her. For her to prove to him that she could make this about them and not just about herself.
A part of her almost backed off. If she let him believe she wanted more than an orgasm, she could wind up being the one to inflict pain. Sex, in life and death, had always been about control. Wasn’t it the same for him? Had he ever found his release without the power struggle to see who dominated?
The softness in Ryker’s gaze begged for her decision. She sighed and relaxed her arms, trailing them slowly across his back, and grabbing the waistband of his jeans to give them a firm tug. “I draw the line at being docile.”
Ryker smiled. “Active participation would be nice.”
Not sure exactly what he wanted from her, or why she wanted so desperately to give it to him if only for a few minutes, she did something she hadn’t done willingly in two hundred years. Kyana tilted her head, offering her neck in momentary surrender. If he wanted proof that this wouldn’t become a power struggle for her, she could offer him no grander gesture.
Ryker’s low rumble echoed with the waves. He cupped her jaw and eased her gaze back to him. “No stupid games,” he repeated, then claimed her lips once again.
Kyana lost herself in the gentleness of his caress. She slid her hands slowly up his back, loving the way the muscles rippled in response. The heat of his skin warmed her fingers. Her breath hitched. She pressed him closer, rocked her hips against him.
Ryker refused to be rushed. He left her lips to trail blazing kisses along her jaw. His tongue stroked the now healed bite mark. Kyana braced herself for the pleasurable pain that would accompany his possession. Instead of fangs, he closed his mouth over the pounding pulse in her neck, pulling lightly.
She moaned, arching into him. The act of being fed upon without mal intent was the most erotic sensation she’d ever experienced. Her body warmed. Heat built between her legs. Her moan of pleasure, her whispered plea for more, were all that lay between them.
She turned her head, found the pounding pulse point at the base of his jaw with her lips and followed it to his throat, then closed her mouth over it. He tasted like the ocean. Salty, sweaty, sunny.
In him, she tasted daylight for the first time in two hundred years.
He pushed away from her, and Kyana bit her lip to keep from whimpering in protest.
“You taste sweeter than you act,” he whispered. “I always suspected you had a soft, gooey center.”
She swallowed. “If you don’t take off those damned pants, how will you know if you’re right?”
He brushed his lips lightly over hers before leveling himself away again to stare at her. Kyana lay naked and vulnerable beneath him, but she fed off the power of her sexuality. The look of longing, of need, filling his eyes held her still. She reveled in the thrill of him drinking in the sight of her.
Ryker straddled her waist. Slowly, never letting his gaze stray from hers, his hands lightly gripped her ribs, his thumbs caressed the undersides of her breasts.
The need in his eyes reflected her own desires. It took a minute for her to realize he was waiting for her permission. Awed by the respect of his actions, she bowed her back in silent invitation. He dipped his head, flicked his tongue over the nipple, then pulled it into his mouth.
Kyana wrapped her legs around his waist and rocked against him as Ryker shifted his attention to her other breast. His hands trailed lightly down her side to her hip, his fingers biting painfully into her skin. She couldn’t determine if he was trying to stop her movements or encouraging her to continue. The choice had been taken from her. She was already addicted to his touch. Her need to feel all of him ruled her thoughts.
Reaching between them, she tugged at the button on his pants and pushed them lower.
“Not yet,” he groaned against her throat. He wanted to take his time, wanted to make the moment last, wanted to taste every inch of her before giving in.
Shifting, he eased down her body to trail hot, moist kisses over her belly. He circled her belly button, then continued lower to nip lightly at her hip.
Kyana�
�s purring turned to panted pleading. She pushed his pants off his hips. Lifting her legs, she caught the waist of his khakis between her toes, gently straightening her legs to slide the garment to his ankles.
He growled. She chuckled and held her arms out to him. He kicked the jeans completely off, then covered her again, skin to skin. The heat of his body warmed the chill from hers that the faux sunlight of Below wasn’t able to erase.
Ryker’s hands trembled as he gripped her hips. He wanted to bury himself inside her, but the need to continue his exploration of her body burned hotter with each shiver and sigh she released.
“Now,” she said, taking him lightly in her hand and guiding him inside her. She lifted her hips, completing the connection.
Ryker remained still, enjoying the feel of her hands lightly caressing him from hip to shoulder. “Now,” he repeated when the desire pulsing through her eased and her whimpers for more pushed his own need out of control.
To Kyana, his movements were criminally slow. Nothing like she wanted. She needed hot and hard and explosive. She needed to know his desire for her was as wild as her need for him. She’d never felt like this before. Never allowed herself to take more from sex than the act of release. She’d never thought about her partner’s needs and wants. Never worried if his pleasure burned as intense. With Ryker, she worried about this and so much more.
When she attempted to take control, to rush them toward their reward, his fingers tightened on her hips until she followed his lead.
Kyana gave herself to him. Let him slowly stroke the fires until they threatened to burn them both alive. His movements matched the slow crests of the waves lapping at the shore. Their panted breaths mingled. Their moans of pleasure mirrored their building needs.
The first waves of her orgasm stole her breath. She cried out his name. He answered with hers as he too claimed his prize.
The weight of him crushed her, but he wasn’t half as heavy as the awkward silence that followed their climax. The moment wasn’t altogether unpleasant. She liked the feel of the coarse hair on his thighs rubbing her legs, liked the heat of his smooth, hard chest pressing against her bare breasts. She just wished she knew what the hell to say to him now.
Never had she experienced sex so tender. Not even when she was human. Prince Mehmet had raped her of her virginity at the ripe age of fifteen, and every time he’d called upon her afterward, he had been just as brutal. He was the only human she’d ever mated with, and so those violent experiences had traveled with her into her life as a Vamp.
Before joining the Order, she’d allowed only other Vamps to share her bed, and since giving her oath to the Ancients, that side of her bed had remained cold with the exception of the nomadic Witch Silas, who’d been her “booty call” for a couple of years off and on. Silas still managed to end up in her bed whenever he rolled back into town, but she hadn’t seen him in over six months.
Waiting for Ryker to roll off her, she frowned as she realized she wasn’t as sated as she’d thought she’d be. She wanted more of Ryker. Wanted him to hold her and show her that what they’d just shared wasn’t alive only in her imagination.
“No thinking,” Ryker whispered, claiming her lips in a gentle possession that stole her breath. But just as her body melted against his and her thoughts became a drunken, incoherent mess, he ended the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “You have to get dressed.”
A soft sigh escaped her, fanning his face. When she opened her eyes, she saw the same need in the depths of his eyes as she felt in her soul. This time, there was no sting of rejection. Just a mutual understanding and a shared need that couldn’t be explored now.
She eased out of his arms and pulled on her clothes, feeling his gaze sear her naked back as she dressed in silence. When she was done, she sat back down and stared out over the ocean.
“So what were you thinking about when I woke up?” she asked when she got her breathing under control. She needed to know what had changed in him. Why he’d gone from pushing her away to giving her something he’d been denying her for ten years.
“That you’re not as coldhearted as people think you are.”
She tensed and opened her mouth to deny the horrible accusation. Instead, she said, “Is that a bad thing?”
“No. But I don’t understand why you let people see only one side of you.”
“Not all people. Haven sees me for what I am.”
“So do I, Ky. Whether you like it or not.”
Though she didn’t like it, she believed him. Ryker never looked at her like she was nothing more than a vile Dark Breed. He made her feel almost normal, and lying here with him today, she hadn’t allowed herself to get caught up in the fear of rejection. Instead, she’d allowed herself to enjoy him. It wasn’t like her. Hell, except for Geoffrey, she couldn’t remember a single time in almost two hundred years of existence when she’d just enjoyed a man’s friendship. It always turned to sex. Fuck ’em and forget ’em, though it had been months since she’d gotten even that from anyone.
And, as much as she hated to admit it, that wasn’t what she’d gotten from Ryker today. When she finally found her voice again, she managed to say, “Back to friends?”
“I’m always your friend, Ky.”
“I think I like the way you see me,” she said, letting the honesty of her words fill her soul. “Sometimes. Other times, it’s irritating as hell.”
Ryker smiled. “I can fake it if you like. Pretend I think you’re just a raving bitch.”
“I am a raving bitch. It’s called Lychen, remember?” She stood and stretched, then scooped up Ryker’s discarded shirt and tossed it in his face. “Your turn to dress. We have to meet Hank.”
Ryker stood and quickly redressed before following Kyana back toward Spirits. His smile reminded her much of a contented kitten with an endless supply of fresh cream.
“What’s that grin all about?”
He pointed to her feet. “Forget something?”
Kyana stared down at her bare toes and cursed. Her boots! She ran back to their spot on the beach, but her boots were nowhere to be found.
“Where’d they go?”
Ryker pointed to the ocean, his grin growing wider by the second. “I think the tide is a thief.”
“Sonofabitch.”
Ryker’s laughter followed Kyana as she dove headfirst and fully dressed into the waves in search of her precious shoes.
Chapter Twenty-one
Still barefoot, Kyana stomped into Hank’s new office/living quarters twenty minutes later. She was tender in delicious places and knew she smelled like Ryker and sex, which only made her more self-conscious of the eyes following her as she entered the small room.
A trail of water followed her as she slumped against the wall and silently dared Geoffrey or Hank to mention her distressed, saturated state. Hank wisely held his tongue. Geoffrey wasn’t so smart. He opened his mouth to say something when Marcus stomped into the room, following her path with a string of curses and a mop.
“I’m going to ban you from this place,” Marcus said, wringing out the mop in a bucket he’d deposited in the hall. “I just had these floors redone.”
He looked past Kyana into the room and nodded at Hank’s equipment. “Got everything you need for your search? Need more of my enormous skills to push things along?”
Geoffrey smiled. “Nice that you’re so eager to help, mate.”
Marcus scowled. “Just want my damned café back, so get on with whatever you’re doing and get out.” He grumbled his way out the door, his flanneled back disappearing down the stairs.
When he was gone, Geoffrey’s smile only broadened as he turned it on Kyana. “Have a good tup, you two?”
Kyana felt Ryker stiffen. “Watch yourself or we’re going to learn how far Peter Pan can fly.”
“Hey, no name calling.” Geoffrey grinned. “Until the wee tot’s in bed at least. His mum won’t appreciate us teaching him new habits.”
Kyana turn
ed to find Hank and his wife smiling at them and the “wee tot” watching her with a little less fear in his eyes. When Hank’s gaze met hers, she put an end to Geoff and Ryker’s bickering with a smooth change of topic.
“Were you able to get all your stuff running?”
Hank pointed at the monitor and pushed a couple of buttons. Pain flashed in Kyana’s skull and she moved farther away from the electronics. “Had a few issues at first, but then some really big guy came in and said a bunch of really weird words and everything started working the way it’s supposed to.”
Marcus must have had to power the equipment with magic to make it work Below. “So the search for the owner is on?”
“Been running about an hour.” He turned the monitor so she could see the flashing images. “So far nothing, but they mentioned a list. Figured we could start running them and comparing those in the systems with the print. It’s a lot quicker to find a match if you have a suspect to work with.”
She held out her hand. Ryker passed Geoffrey’s list to her, his fingers brushing the backs of hers as he did so. She swallowed.
She looked to Geoffrey. “Where did you leave Haven? I don’t want her here until we’ve cleared Drake or caught him.”
“She went to meet him, I think. He phoned her again before I came back here.”
“Good, because I’m not exactly sure how to tell her that her boyfriend could be a Cronos supporter.” Slimy weasel that he was, it wouldn’t surprise Kyana one bit if Drake turned up with a record. “And if word gets back to her that we’re investigating him, I’ll—”