Awaken the Darkness

by Dianne Duvall

  Did she?

  Closing her eyes, she released a contented sigh. “Good night, Stanislav.”

  “Good night, Susan,” he replied softly.

  Slumber claimed her swiftly. Stanislav watched her as long as his drooping eyelids would allow. He should rest.

  He might need every bit of strength he could muster tomorrow.

  He inched closer to her.

  She didn’t stir.

  Smiling, he pressed his forehead to hers and swiftly sank into a deep healing sleep.

  Chapter Five

  Susan sang under her breath as she carried the mail into the kitchen and set it on the counter, riffling through it.

  Junk. Junk. Previous owner crap. Junk. Bill. Junk.

  A large warm body stepped up behind her.

  Dropping the envelopes, she spun around and tilted her head back.

  Stanislav.

  He looked different. His wounds were gone. His shoulders were broad, clad in a black T-shirt that hugged muscled pecs and washboard abs. The biceps left bare by the dark fabric were large and well defined. Black cargo pants covered thighs thick with muscle and fell to the tops of big black boots.

  She returned her gaze to his face. Fuller now. And so damned handsome.

  Her heartbeat quickened.

  “Keep singing,” he whispered.

  Excitement skittering through her, she obeyed.

  He slid his left arm around her waist and drew her up against his hard form.

  Her breath caught.

  Clasping her right hand in his left, he began to dance with her. Slowly. Matching the rhythm of the love song she crooned.

  “Again,” he whispered when she ran out of lyrics, their bodies brushing as they swayed from side to side.

  Once more, she complied.

  Her blood heated when he bent his head and nuzzled her neck, teasing the sensitive skin there with his lips. Such a strong wave of arousal washed over her that she forgot to sing.

  “Don’t stop,” he implored.

  “That’s just what I was going to say,” she murmured and felt him smile.

  His body was hard against hers. Every inch of him. His erection pressed against her stomach.

  He raised his head, those bright amber eyes catching and holding hers.

  His head dipped. His mouth met hers.

  And her body went liquid.

  His lips were warm and soft and teased hers with a skill that weakened her knees. Rising onto her toes, she wrapped both arms around his neck and leaned into him. A growl of approval rumbled in his chest as he locked his arms around her and deepened the kiss, touching his tongue to hers. Stroking. Enflaming. Until she rubbed against him, practically begging for his touch.

  She didn’t think she had ever in her life wanted so badly to make love with a man.

  When he slipped a hand up to cup her breast, she arched into him. Lightning shot through her as he drew a thumb across the hardened peak, then returned to torment her more.

  A sound of protest escaped her when he abandoned her breast.

  Then he swept his arm across the counter behind her.

  The mail fell to the floor. Susan couldn’t care less. Her whole body burned for him. And she was hoping that meant he was going to—

  “Yes,” she hissed when he lifted her and sat her on the counter.

  Stepping between her thighs, he urged them farther apart until the hard length behind his fly rubbed against her center. She offered no protest when he yanked her T-shirt over her head, then tore off her bra. Literally tore it off! Because as soon as he did, he bent and took a hardened nipple into his mouth. Sucking. Laving. Nipping it with his teeth until she writhed against him.

  She lay back on the cold countertop and buried her fingers in his soft, thick hair. “More.”

  Reaching up, he grabbed his shirt at the back of his neck and yanked it over his head.

  So much muscle. She couldn’t wait to feel it against her bare skin.

  He returned his mouth to her breasts, rested his warm hands on her thighs, and slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her skirt. Susan squirmed beneath him as he splayed his fingers, sliding them up, then down, then up again, his thumbs teasing her by coming just a little closer to the heart of her with each caress.

  “Stanislav,” she begged. “Touch me. Please.”

  He growled something in Russian.

  His thumbs skimmed over her clit, sending a jolt through her. Then he tucked his fingers in the waistband of her bikini panties and dragged them down. The skirt swiftly followed, leaving her completely bare to his view.

  She should feel self-conscious before his perfection, but the heat in his bright eyes as he drank in the sight of her just enflamed her more.

  He straightened, his hands clutching her hips in a grip that was so tight it was almost painful. The look on his face—the need and desire reflected there as he gazed down at her—left her panting.

  A slow smile tilted his lips as, holding her gaze, he lowered his head and took her with his mouth.

  Susan moaned as sensation shot through her. Burying her fingers in his hair, she locked her legs around him and urged him on. She could barely breathe as he worked her with his tongue and his fingers. Throwing her head back, she cried out as a climax rocked her.

  Susan came awake with a start. Eyes wide, she gasped as an orgasm rippled through her, stealing her breath, sending her heartbeat into overdrive and filling her with ecstasy.

  What the hell?

  It took her several moments to catch her breath and get her bearings as her heart did its damnedest to burst from her chest and her body continued to pulse with pleasure.

  She lay on her side in bed, Stanislav spooned up behind her. His face was buried in the hair at the back of her neck. His arms were wrapped about her tightly, one hand clutching her breast, the other tucked between her legs over her panties. The towel he had wrapped about his hips had come loose. And she could feel his unencumbered erection pressing against her bottom and her core.

  He was so hard. Every muscle in his body was tight with need. His breathing was strained. But he didn’t move.

  She peeked into his thoughts.

  He was asleep, still caught up in the dream of making love to her on the kitchen counter.

  Arousal shot through her once more when he opened his fly in the dream and plunged his hard shaft into her. So big. So good.

  “Stanis—” she started to say but broke off as another wave of heat hit her. “Stanislav,” she said again, louder this time.

  He shifted as the dream faded and consciousness beckoned. The hand on her breast squeezed and kneaded. The fingers between her legs moved.

  She bit her lip, barely suppressing a moan.

  Then he jerked as he came fully awake and realized just where those large hands of his were. A slew of Russian filled his head as he hastily withdrew them and moved away from her.

  Susan knew nothing of that language but guessed from the tone of his mental rant that he was ripping himself a new one. She glanced over her shoulder.

  He lay on his back, one arm draped across his eyes, every muscle tense, the covers tenting over his arousal.

  She rolled over onto her other side to face him. “Care to repeat any of that in English?”

  He gave his head a quick shake, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “It would only offend you more.”

  “Am I right in guessing they’re curse words?”

  “A great many of them.” He made a sound of disgust. “What you must think of me, fondling you whilst you slept. And after all you’ve done for me.”

  “I think,” she stated plainly, “that you didn’t mean to. You were asleep and caught up in an erotic dream.”

  He lifted his arm just enough to regard her skeptically.

  She arched a brow.

  “You don’t think me a knave who was taking advantage of you?”

  “No, I don’t,” she assured him and tamped down the temptation to blurt Take advantage
of me. Please. Because that had been one hell of an orgasm. The first she’d had in a very long time. Kind of hard to regret that.

  He looked as though he doubted his hearing. “You truly aren’t angry?”

  “How can I be? We were both caught up in the dream.” Heat crept into her cheeks. “A dream that I’m pretty sure started out as mine, not yours.”

  Surprise and intrigue erased the self-recrimination in his features as he lowered his arm. “What makes you think that?”

  “Because I was me in the dream, not you. If the dream had been yours to begin with, I would’ve started out as you.”

  “You drew me into your dream?”

  She nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever done that before. I didn’t even know I could.”

  “Nevertheless, I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” She sent him a teasing grin. “I woke up in the middle of a fantastic orgasm.”

  His lips twitched. “So… not a bad way to wake up?”

  She laughed. “Exactly. And if anyone should be angry, it’s you. I drew you into the dream. You gave me the most intense orgasm I’ve had in a long time. Then I yanked you out of the dream before you could…” Her voice trailed off as she motioned to the covers tenting over his erection.

  It was a big tent. She remembered seeing him plunge his long, hard length into her in the dream and felt heat again sweep through her body.

  His eyes brightened.

  She swore silently. “You weren’t supposed to feel that.”

  “I’d say I’m sorry, but…”

  She chuckled.

  His expression lightened as he slowly rolled onto his side toward her. He opened his mouth to speak.

  Jax began to bark downstairs.

  The doorbell rang.

  Eyes flashing even brighter, Stanislav swiftly sat up.

  Pain rippled across his features. Clenching his teeth, he sucked in a harsh breath.

  Susan lunged up and rested a hand on his shoulder. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t move so quickly. Are you okay?”

  “The repairmen,” he gritted. “I must protect you.”

  She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “It isn’t the repairmen. It’s your clothes being delivered.”

  An engine rumbled to life outside, then grew fainter as the delivery truck drove away.

  Stanislav’s brows drew down in a deep vee. “I didn’t hear the truck approach.”

  “I didn’t either.”

  “But I should have,” he ground out and seemed furious at himself for having failed to do so.

  Poor guy. His face was still way too thin and marred by those harsh gashes. She didn’t know what wounds the T-shirt and covers hid, but he was riddled with so much agony that just sitting up too quickly had hurt enough to steal his breath and banish his erection. And he appeared to be mentally kicking himself because he thought he had failed to protect her.

  “Well,” she told him, “blame me then. You probably would’ve heard the truck arrive if I hadn’t been babbling on about orgasms.”

  A surprised laugh escaped him.

  She sent him a cheeky smile. “Thank you, by the way.”

  He grinned. “You’re very welcome.” Shaking his head, he cupped her face in one hand and smoothed his thumb over her cheek.

  Affection warmed her at his touch.

  “Who are you?” he asked with a combination of pleasure and bafflement. “Really.”

  She shrugged. “No one special.”

  He drew away with a half smile. “You’ll never convince me of that.” Shifting over to the edge of the bed, he fished beneath the covers for something.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for the towel. I need to go down, get the clothes, and prepare for the repairmen’s arrival.”

  Prepare how?

  Susan tossed back the covers and rose. “I’ll get the clothes. You find the towel.” Although she sort of hoped he wouldn’t find the towel.

  She retrieved the large box from her front porch, then returned upstairs and plunked it down on the bed. “You can have this bathroom to yourself. I’ll use the one down the hallway.” Grabbing her toothbrush, a change of clothes, and a brush, she headed for the other upstairs bathroom. Sheesh, it needed a lot of work. This was the first time she’d used it since moving in.

  Glancing around as she brushed her teeth, she grimaced at the horrid floral wallpaper. Updating it all was going to be a pain in the ass.

  As quickly as she could, she donned panties, a bra, soft blue jeans, and a gray V-neck T-shirt. Her hair was waving in weird ways as it always did when she didn’t braid it before going to bed. So she dampened it and dragged it back into a ponytail.

  She studied herself in the mirror.

  Stanislav thought she was pretty. Beautiful, actually. She had found as much in his thoughts. But as she stared at her reflection, she really didn’t see it. The best thing she could say about herself was that she looked younger than she was. She always had. And she’d hated that when she was in high school. The other girls had teased her mercilessly, repeatedly pointing out that they all looked like women while she still looked like a girl. But it had ended up working in her favor. At thirty-two, she could easily pass for twenty-one.

  Why the hell am I thinking about that now?

  Because you want to look good for Stanislav.

  She wrinkled her nose at her reflection. So much for that idea.

  Leaving the bathroom, she went in search of him.

  He wasn’t in the bedroom.

  When she heard a noise downstairs, she skipped down the steps and headed into the kitchen… where she stumbled to a wide-eyed halt. Holy crap.

  He was garbed all in black. Black T-shirt. Black cargo pants. His big black boots.

  And he looked good.

  The clothes were loose on him. She had assumed he would gain back the weight he’d lost once he started eating regularly, so she had bought the size she estimated he would need and had thrown in a belt to hold the pants up until he did.

  But even with him being too thin and the clothes fitting him loosely…

  She let her gaze travel over his back from his head to his heels.

  Yeah. He looked good. Really good. Especially after that damned dream.

  Jax crouched down at Stanislav’s feet, happily devouring a bowl of dog food.

  Stanislav stood before her cutlery drawer.

  As she watched, he slid a steak knife into his back right pocket. He slid another into the left.

  Unease rose. “What are you doing?”

  Stanislav didn’t turn around at the inquiry. “Just making sure all bases are covered,” he murmured as he continued to distribute sharp knives to each and every pocket his new pants boasted. Susan had a pretty decent array in her drawer, though he would’ve preferred daggers, throwing stars, and a couple of katanas.

  He heard her heartbeat pick up a bit and glanced over his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  She was fresh-faced and beautiful in jeans that rode low on her hips and a T-shirt that clung to a narrow waist and dipped just enough in front to allow a glimpse of cleavage.

  She motioned to the knife he tucked into a pocket on his thigh. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

  “Yes.” He would take no chances with her safety.

  She just stared at him.

  Uncertain what she was thinking, he went back to arming himself.

  “You look like you’ve done that before,” she murmured. “A lot.” And the notion unsettled her. He heard it in her voice even as her unease infiltrated him.

  “I must have,” he said, unwilling to lie. “It feels familiar.”

  A scene flashed before his mind’s eye. A battle. Firing an automatic weapon. Soldiers running around amidst smoke and explosions.

  Pain shot through his head.

  Grunting, he pressed the heel of one hand against his forehead and waited for it to pass.

  Susan stepped up beside him
and touched his shoulder. “Stanislav? Are you okay?”

  He shook his head. “I saw something.”

  She nodded. “I saw it, too. Sorry about that. It wasn’t intentional.” She rubbed his shoulder in soothing circles. “You must have been in the military at some point.”

  “That’s what it looked like.” And that seemed to assuage her… fear?

  No. Dread, perhaps. When she had seen him with the weapons, she must have worried about the past he couldn’t remember. Who he had been and what he had done that had required him to arm up on a regular basis.

  “You don’t by any chance have a gun or two, do you?” he asked hopefully.

  “Actually, yes.”

  Surprise struck. “You do?”

  She nodded. “But I’d rather they remain where they are, if you don’t mind.”

  He considered trying to change her mind but couldn’t blame her. They might have embarked upon friendship and fostered a certain amount of trust in each other, but she still knew little about him. “As you will. What time will the first man arrive?”

  She glanced at the clock on the oven. “If he’s on time, half an hour. Would you like some breakfast while we wait?”

  “Only if you let me help you prepare it.”

  “Deal.” Though her smile returned, it seemed a little forced. The weapons thing had thrown her.

  An hour later, he heard gravel crunch beneath tires as the locksmith turned onto her driveway. “He’s here,” Stanislav announced, setting his dish in the sink. “Keep the dog inside with you. I’ll be nearby if you need me.”

  She stared up him, her hazel eyes full of anxiety.

  Taking her hand, he gave it a squeeze. “Don’t worry. I’m probably just being paranoid.”

  “And if you aren’t?”

  “I’ll return in an instant, protect you, and hopefully gain some of the answers I need.”

  Lips tightening, she surprised him by giving him a quick hug.

  His heart singing despite his concern, he slipped out the back door, strode through the shaded yard, and disappeared into the trees.

  An eternity seemed to pass while the locksmith introduced himself to Susan, then talked her ear off while he replaced the locks on the front and back doors. He gave all appearances of being exactly what he was: a locksmith with no connections to the men who had buried Stanislav in the basement.