by Eden Ashe
And when he set her on her feet next to her bed, she held his gaze while easing his shirt up her lithe body, baring inch by tempting inch. Naked, she started to help him out of his jeans, but he growled. Her eyes widened in shock, and she studied his face, her anticipation building in her as he let his eyes roam over every bare, glorious inch of her.
She was perfect. From her breathtaking, pale skin, to the brush of freckles over her breasts and shoulders that killed him and made him anticipate worshipping each and every one of them.
He wanted it all. All of her. However she’d let him have her.
“Christ, Meggie.” His voice sounded harsh to his own ears, but she unfastened the button on his jeans without reply. Her hands slipped inside the back waistband, cupping his ass before shoving the denim down his legs.
She trailed her tongue over his chest, her fingers brushing his nipples.
He meant to give her the chance to explore his body for as long as she wanted, but then her hand slid down his waist to wrap around his cock, and his brain emptied of every rational thought.
He stumbled forward when she fisted him, catching her at the last moment and tossing her onto the bed before he followed her down, tasting everywhere on her. Desperate to fill his senses with her again. He wanted to know if she tasted like cherries everywhere, but she destroyed his patience again by arching off the bed and lifting her hips to him. “Please, Thorn. I need you.”
He drove into her, and yanking on the ragged threads of his self-control, he slowed the pace. But when she screamed his name and came for him again, he lost himself. He wanted to hold on, to drag her to the edge once more, but she felt too damned good, and with a violent curse, he threw back his head, roared her name, and broke.
Chapter Seven
“Goddamn it, Jake. You’re being an idiot.”
“You worry too much, little brother.” Jake laughed, throwing his military duffel into the backseat of his truck, then pulled open the hidden compartment to check his weapons. He had everything. Holy water, crosses, machetes. Sawed-off shotguns, sniper rifle, bullets infused with silver. Throwing stars, a baseball bat, brass knuckles. Anything a hunter would need for a routine demon extraction. At thirty-four, Jake had been performing them for twenty years, knew the incantation and exorcism by heart, and it wasn’t even a high-level demon. Just a soul escaped from Hell who liked to munch on human brains.
Thorn grabbed his arm before he could slide the compartment back into its hiding spot. “I’m telling you, you need me on this.”
Jake shrugged his hand off then caught him in a quick hug before smacking him on the back of the head. “Jaid needs you right now. Amara’s sick, and Jaid’s still angry at me for not telling her that asshole called last week. This is it, this is the moment you kill me.”
Thorn jerked his gaze up. Jake stepped forward and shoved him with both hands, sending him sprawling onto his back in the mud. His skull thunked onto a rock.
“This is your fault. Yours, you selfish bastard. You knew I would die, and you let me go.”
“No.” Thorn got to his feet slowly, trying to clear the fuzziness. “You did that. I told you to call me!”
“Keep telling yourself that, asshole. Will it make you feel better at night? That you could have insisted, should have followed me? That you could have been there when that demon broke my skull open for dinner?”
Like a chain reaction, the grief in Thorn’s chest lit the fuse on his anger and resentment until his skin boiled under the onslaught. “Fuck you. This isn’t you. We’d both be dead if I’d followed, and who would have taken care of Jaid and Amara then?”
Jake laughed and waved a hand. A wind came out of nowhere and lifted Thorn off his feet, spun him, and threw him into a tree. The scent of cherries wrapped around him, and he tried to latch onto that odd sensation with both hands as Jake advanced on him, the baseball bat in his hand. “Doing a fine job of it, too. Are you watching after them while fucking the blonde? You left them alone! You let me die, and you left them alone!”
Thorn’s eyes flew open on a shout and he threw his arms up, protecting his skull as the baseball bat swung for it.
When the blow didn’t come, he slowly lowered his arms, trying to get his bearings while his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. Night. He blinked and scowled at the unfamiliar surroundings. Not his apartment. There weren’t any injuries he immediately sensed, and the only thing that bound him was the leg thrown over his thigh. Woman. Cherries.
Meggie.
Relief had him groaning out loud. Not ready to close his eyes again, he lay there, staring at the ceiling until his eyes adjusted to the dark, before turning to see her snuggled up against him, sprawled on her stomach, one arm under her and the other under her cheek, which she’d tucked under his armpit. Her hair had come unbound, and, feeling like the biggest creep in the world, he lifted a strand to smell it, until the tight muscles in his shoulders relaxed some as her scent filled his head.
Shifting carefully, so not to wake her, he scooted out from under her leg and stood. He pulled his jeans on, not bothering to button them, grabbed his cell phone off the end table to light his way, and wandered to the bathroom then finally the kitchen.
He snagged a beer out of the fridge and sat at her table, the nightmare washing over him again. He dropped his brow onto his arms. There had been worse, but none had ever threatened to destroy his sanity and his heart the way this one had.
Was it true? Was that what had caused Jake to attach himself to the amulet? A desire to make him pay for letting him die?
Not quite masochistic enough to believe he deserved death, at the moment Thorn wasn’t sure he’d blame Jake for it. He should have had this taken care of already, instead of letting his cock make the decisions. He fucking knew better than this.
Jesus, if something happened to Meggie because of him….
“Hey.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her lips to his neck. “I thought you’d left.”
He lifted his eyes enough to see her standing there, dressed in nothing but his button-down again, her light hair tousled and sexy as fuck, her eyes worried in the darkness. “I should have.” Without her permission, he snagged one of her hands and brought it to his chest, right over his heart. “I should go.”
“Okay.” She flattened her hand on his chest. “Want coffee first?”
She leaned forward enough to rest her cheek against his hair, and he thought he heard her breathe him in. The same way he’d done to her only minutes ago. It should have soothed his soul in some way that she seemed to be bordering on obsession with him, too, but it only reminded him of the danger being near him put her in.
Instead of answering, he hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap so she straddled him. Interest and a hunger that set his sanity on fire sparked in her eyes. He brushed the hair off her shoulders then pressed a kiss to her brow. Without hesitation, she looped her arms around his neck, pressing her long, tempting body against his.
And, sweet mercy, she fit him perfectly.
Something was wrong with him, something big. She’d woken the second the nightmare had started, and her heart had nearly stopped beating when the anguished words had ripped out of his chest. We’d both be dead if I’d followed, and who would have taken care of Jaid and Amara then?
Aching for him, she’d tried to wake him, and, when that hadn’t worked, she’d touched him. Thrown her leg over his and slipped her hand around his, anchoring him the only way she’d known how. Hoping against hope that whatever hell he’d traveled to, that small touch would help him fight his way out.
She’d wanted to follow him when he’d left her room, but the tears had come. And, she didn’t want Thorn—amazing, strong Thorn—to think she pitied him.
But, God, he broke her heart.
Shifting slightly, she nipped at the pulse point in his neck before she sat back and smiled. “Are you hungry? I make some pretty m
ean bagels.”
“Bagels?” He chuckled, and a little more of the clouds in his eyes dispersed. “You like to take chances, huh?”
Biting her lip, she slowly nodded. She nipped at his thumb when he brushed it over her dimple, before undoing enough buttons on his shirt to have it sliding off one shoulder. “I’m a sucker for challenges. Haven’t I told you that? It’s a middle-child thing.” When he latched onto her throat, tasting her, she said, “God, Thorn, your mouth should be a registered weapon.”
“You have no idea, sunshine.” He grasped her hips and laid her out on the kitchen table. With the storm raging in his eyes again, he ripped the shirt the rest of the way open and feasted on her skin with his mouth before sucking on her nipples. Searing need threatened to blow her apart at the seams. But when she started to quake then arched off the table, he dragged his tongue down her belly before nipping at the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.
His thumbs brushed over her core, pressed against her clit then spread her lips wide before his mouth closed over her. Sliding his hands to her ass, he lifted her off the table. “Wrap your legs around my head,” he murmured then devoured her.
She grabbed the sides of the table and allowed him to take her right to that edge where he wanted her then hold her there. Before she could scream, her body trembling with the urge to come, he stood, pushed his jeans down with one hand, gripped her ass again with the other, and drove himself home.
She might have blacked out at the raw intense pleasure. She knew she screamed. He fisted her hair, shoved his arm under her waist to bring her closer, and covered her body with his, taking the pace straight to frantic. Like he’d lost his sanity and she’d become the only thing tethering him. God, she couldn’t get enough of touching him. She stroked him everywhere her fingers reached, licked at his skin until his taste lived inside of her, and then went back to kissing him everywhere.
He slammed into her again and again, each time grinding his hips just right so he hit her clit, until it became too much for her. She bowed off the table and pressed into him, the orgasm roaring through her like a hurricane, leaving her battered, disoriented, and flying. Her nails were still digging into his shoulders when he tucked his face against her throat and followed her over, growling so violently it sent shivers racing over her already-sensitive skin.
Instead of collapsing on top of her like she’d expected, he curled his arms under her and held her to him, murmuring words she couldn’t hear against her throat. She didn’t have the strength to ask him what they were, either, because somewhere in her heart, she knew what he was saying.
Good-bye.
Megan leaned against the doorframe in a pair of ridiculously short shorts and a curve-hugging tank top. One foot braced against the other knee, and she’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail. His heart stuttered in his chest, and he had to step back before he fucked up all over again. If he didn’t leave right then, he’d be inside her again in minutes, and both of them were worn the hell out.
Not to mention, the problem with the amulet.
“Thanks for lending me one of your brother’s shirts.” He shoved a hand into his jean pocket then jiggled the keys. “I’ll leave them under the flower pot.”
She looked as miserable as he felt. But, she smiled. “Thank you. You don’t have to worry about locking up. No one is stupid enough to steal from a Bannon.”
He’d started to turn toward the stairs, but her last words stopped him. Something—most likely his brain—twitched. “Goddamn it, Meggie, you can’t leave your store unlocked.” Then they were face to face again, and he glared at her. “Or your apartment. Tell me you’re kidding.”
“Hey.” She laid a hand on the side of his face. Going up on her toes, she kissed his cheek, and then pressed her cheek to his. “I was kidding. I know how to protect myself.”
He didn’t care. He didn’t want to leave until he saw it himself. Hell, he didn’t want to leave, period.
She kissed his cheek again. “Go, Thorn. Staring at me that way is only going to make me cry.”
He sighed and nodded. “I’ve got your number. I’ll text you when I’m leaving.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“And I promise I’ll pay for any damage.”
She rubbed her foot over her ankle and nodded again.
He’d fucked up. He knew it. He didn’t know her enough to like her this much, sure the hell didn’t know her enough to make it this hard to leave. But, the nightmare didn’t want to go away, and he needed to see this through.
With a final wave, he turned, jogged down the metal stairs, and walked out into the rain. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he kept his head down against the early morning chill, only to have it snapping up again at the low, pissed-off snarl.
“I know what you are, asshole.”
Declan. Fuck.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Thorn asked.
Dressed in dark jeans and a black hoodie, Megan’s brother pushed away from the brick façade of Megan’s Closet, his cold eyes calculating. “You brought a ghost into my sister’s shop, her life.” Blocking Thorn’s entrance to the shop, he showed no mercy, no kindness in his face. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you now and bury you somewhere no one will ever find you.”
“Because I know how to destroy it.”
Chapter Eight
Thorn managed not to snarl when Declan followed him to his truck. But he came very close. Hopping up onto the bed, he unlocked the weapons case masquerading as a toolbox then pushed it open.
Without a word, he handed Declan a specially made knife made of iron, a handgun with iron bullets, and a crowbar, before shoving another knife into his own left boot. He grabbed a sawed-off, looped it over one shoulder, then hefted a small battle-ax.
Locking the case again, he straightened and lifted a brow at Megan’s brother. “Do you know how to use the weapons I gave you?”
Declan snorted and jumped over the side of his truck. “Probably better than you. What’s the plan?”
“Don’t get yourself killed.” He shut the tailgate and started toward Meggie’s shop. Unlocking the door, he went in first. “Don’t shoot unless I tell you, and stay the hell out of my way.”
“I know how to kill a goddamned ghost.” Declan shut the door behind him and flicked on one of the overhead lights. “This isn’t my first hunt, asshole.”
Thorn hooked the ax crosswise across his body and shot Dec a glance, measuring him. Finally, he sighed and tugged his phone out of his pocket, bringing up the picture of the amulet. “That’s a conversation we’re going to have later. This is what we’re searching for.” He gave him a moment to study it before shoving the phone back into his pocket. Trusting Declan wasn’t an idiot and knew how to handle himself in the small space, he gave a jerky nod. “You take that side. Don’t shoot anything if you can help it.”
Declan rolled his eyes and took the left side of the shop, while Thorn took the right. He went through every trinket box, every jewelry box, every bowl of stones and hidden compartment. He searched every piece of furniture, every pocket, behind every picture then went through the filing cabinet, the drawers under the counter. The longer it took, the more his anxiety spiked, and a bad feeling grew in his gut, until he had the urge to peel the skin off his bones to erase it.
An hour later, he stood in the middle of the store with his hands on his head, turning in a slow circle as Declan made his way toward him. “Nothing on your side, either?”
“No.” Thorn sighed and glanced at him. “Any other storage spaces in this place that I don’t know about?”
Declan dropped the crowbar onto the counter before shifting his grip on the knife to drag a hand over his jaw. “You’re sure it’s here?” As if in response, he suddenly flew through the air, hit a circular clothing rack, and crashed to the floor.
Not only had Megan never been a crier; she’d never cried over a guy in her life. But, five minutes afte
r Thorn left her apartment, she was miserable, teary-eyed, and halfway through a carton of cookie dough ice cream drenched in chocolate fudge.
She didn’t love him. Shoving her spoon into the carton for another bite, she sniffled and swiped at her tears. She hadn’t even known him twenty-four hours yet.
Knock knock.
Her heart leapt into her throat, joy rushing through her with so much force she nearly exploded with it. Dropping the carton on the counter, she ran to the door. A grin threatened to crack open her face when she threw it open, ready to fling herself at Thorn, only to come up short when she saw the two pajama-clad women standing in her doorway.
Lilah crossed her arms over her chest and lifted a brow. “Expecting someone else?”
Dylan snagged Megan’s hand on her way past her and into the apartment, Lilah following on their heels. Megan gaped at both of them. “What are you two doing up this early?”
Lilah, the youngest Bannon, snorted. “Did you forget we live below you?”
“And usually sleep at night like normal people?” Dylan added, humor in her green eyes. “Since when do you have a boyfriend?”
Megan stared at them. Despite the year-and-a-half age difference, Lilah and Dylan could be twins. The only physical differences were Dylan’s freckles and Lilah’s wavy hair compared to Dylan’s wild, untamable curls. They did everything together, including running the bridal shop in Laken.
Megan had never come out and said so, but sometimes she worried they were going to end up living together forever.
Lilah waved a hand in front of her face. “Seriously, you have to tell us. Who was he?”
Dylan snickered. “Well, we know his name. Because we heard it. Over and over. We just don’t know anything else about him. Please, please tell us he’s as hot as you made him sound.”
“God, hotter. Huge, tattooed, built like a freaking warrior.” Still miserable, Megan wandered back to the kitchen to continue drowning her sorrows in ice cream. “I met him at the store.” She shoved a spoonful into her mouth. “He’s leaving today.”