And all the while he sat in Pummel’s seat, never having looked more at home than in Pummel’s seat.
She tried not to be overwhelmed by the worst-case scenario. She tried to block herself from thinking it – that he had been whispering promises to Tatum like he had to her; that Tatum, in fact, maybe knew all about his plans.
She could see it – how cleverly his scheming was coming into action. And no more so than now he knew her weakness. He knew how to own her – how to gain power over her like Pummel had. Seeing him on that sofa, in Pummel’s place, Dice nodding approvingly, almost admiringly, right opposite him, Tatum all over him, the girl willingly at his knees, she saw the potential of what he could become. From the minute he’d walked into that place he’d acted like he owned it. Now it felt like he’d taken the first leap to making it a reality. And she had been helping him on his way.
He turned his head towards Tatum. As she leaned in, as her lips met his in a slow, sensual, purposeful kiss, Eden reciprocated.
Jessie’s heart stopped beating, the ache in her chest intense enough to stop her breathing. Her intrusion on the scene was worse than any punishment Pummel bestowed on her. From the way her heart drained of blood, her body weakened, her stomach twisted, and a knot formed at the back of her throat, this was the worst punishment she had ever suffered.
It was bullshit. Everything Eden had promised her was cruel, lying, manipulative bullshit, confirmed when his gaze snapped to hers. There was no flash of guilt in his eyes, just annoyance. Annoyance, no doubt, at his mask being exposed – not the one he showed them, but the one he showed her.
She took a step back, her glare, despite knowing she should have concealed it for the sake of her pride if not from the others, was nonetheless clearly resounding across the room at him from the way he frowned back at her.
Heat flooding her cheeks, her body shaking, she spun on her heels. She marched past the foot of the stairs, wanting anything but to return to her room where she knew he’d come and find her.
She strode through the arch, shoving her way past a couple of people on her way through the next. She took a left towards the under-stairs door. She unlocked it with a trembling hand, slamming it and locking it behind her.
She fell back against it to catch her breath, the back of her hand held to her mouth as she fought back the tears as her hope, raised only an hour or so before, now plummeted into oblivion again. With it plummeted hope for the lycan young, for any attempt to stop what now felt like the inevitable.
With the mustiness of the dark stairwell only exacerbating her need for air, she turned to descend, her hand slamming against the wall to her left, her other clutching the handrail to her right as the wooden steps swayed beneath her.
He was the same as all the others – manipulative, cruel, selfish, power-hungry. Only this time she had dared to let herself fall for a handsome face and a mouth full of charm and eyes as deceitful as his heart.
She couldn’t go through it again. She couldn’t be imprisoned all over again. She couldn’t be imprisoned by Eden. At least with Pummel there were no feelings. At least she could disconnect from everything around her. But to be used like that by Eden – Eden who knew all her secrets too…
She couldn’t put herself through the heartbreak every day; couldn’t watch him with others like she’d just watched him with Tatum and Nadine, for however long that was going to be.
She’d only descended the first couple of steps when she heard the handle turn behind her, heard the key in the lock.
Jessie’s grip tightened on the handrail as her gaze shot to the top of the dark stairwell and locked on Eden’s.
Clutching the handrail to retain her balance, she backed up against it, the bar cutting into the small of her back.
‘What the hell are you playing at, Jess?’
Her hand fisted around the handrail. ‘What am I playing at?’
‘You’re lucky the others didn’t see that reaction. At least I don’t think they did. I told you to stay in your room.’
Every defence mechanism, every barrier, snapped into position. ‘Like a good girl? Doing what I’m told and staying out of the way? Making sure I don’t see you for what you are.’
His startled eyes flared then narrowed. ‘And what’s that, Jessie?’
‘You know what. And now so do I,’ she said, turning her back on him.
‘What should I have done?’ he asked, catching her arm.
But she yanked herself free, descended a few more steps. ‘I suggest you keep the fuck away from me.’
‘Me giving that girl the brush off, let alone Tatum, would have made no sense to either of them – nor to Dice. It would have raised questions that we cannot afford to have raised. You know that.’
‘That you can’t afford to have raised,’ she said, her jaw tense, her pulse racing as she turned to face him again. ‘Which is why you’re here now, isn’t it? To make sure I don’t let something slip?’
‘You said it yourself: Pummel’s watching me. He’s watching every move I make. If I let my guard down for one minute, this is over. For both of us. It’s a game,’ he said. ‘And the odds are staying alive. Of keeping us both alive.’
‘And that’s precisely what I am to you, isn’t it? A game – the ultimate challenge. Well, I should have trusted my instincts,’ she said, turning away again. ‘The fun’s over. The deal’s off.’
‘You think this is fun for me? You think I’m enjoying this?’ This time his grip on her arm was firmer as he pinned her back against the wall. ‘You think I want to see you this angry, this upset? You think I want to have you looking at me like I’m the bastard in this when my insides are dead potentially fucking someone I feel nothing for – when I’d rather be with you where it feels real, where I feel real. I’m a caricature in there, Jess. I have to be a caricature when I’m with anyone but you. I thought you saw that now.’
His eyes penetrated deep into hers like they had up in her bedroom. Like they had too many times now. But she wouldn’t allow herself to absorb his words, the pain of the potential of what they could mean too great. ‘This is over,’ she declared.
‘We have a deal.’
‘Let me go,’ she said quietly, firmly.
His eyes narrowed as they searched hers. ‘Why does what you saw up there matter to you?’
She shoved him back against the wall opposite, against the handrail. ‘Stay away from me,’ she warned, her fists bunched in his T-shirt as she pinned him there for a moment. She stared deep into his dark eyes, her gaze skimming down to his lips before she forced herself to pull back, making her way down a couple more steps.
He caught her arm again. This time he slammed her back against the wall. He caught hold of her jaw. ‘Glower all you want, I’m not afraid of you.’
‘You should be.’
‘Like you’re afraid of me? Afraid of how you’re feeling despite all these numbers on my arm.’
‘I feel nothing for you,’ she said, shoving him back up against the handrail only to have him slam her right back against the wall again, this time pinning her hands either side of her head. She swiftly managed to counteract it, windmilling her hands to free herself and pin his against the wall opposite in turn, her fingers struggling to encompass his wrists.
‘It’s like déjà vu,’ he said, his gaze unflinching on hers. ‘Only I seem to remember showing you who’s boss last time. Are you looking for a reminder?’
Her stomach flipped, the dark and playful glint in his eyes reminding her of a situation that was the last thing she needed to recall right then. She wanted no recollection at all of how he’d made her feel, how good he’d made her feel, how alive, how free, how unrestrained.
‘Because that’s what this is all about, isn’t it, Eden – you moving in here, into Pummel’s patch? I’m even starting to think this niece story is bullshit – a little bit of emotional blackmail thrown into the mix.’
His eyes darkened in a way she hadn’t yet seen. ‘You’re out of
line.’
‘Am I? If your plan comes into fruition, are you going to keep reminding me of that? How will it be, Eden, now that you know all my secrets? Are you going to go that one step further than Pummel thinks he can? Will you be using my blood whenever it suits whilst fucking me every night, all the while pleasuring yourself with Tatum and whoever else takes your fancy? I should have let those cons kill you,’ she said. ‘I should have killed you.’
His eyes narrowed but his gaze didn’t flinch. ‘But instead you want me. Why else would what you saw up there bother you this much?’
‘You’ve made a fool of me.’
‘No, I’m doing what I have to. For both of us.’
‘Such a martyr. It looked so painful having Tatum’s tongue thrust down your throat. I feel for you. I really do,’ she said flippantly.
‘You have no fucking idea,’ he hissed. ‘What do you want, Jessie? What do you want from me more than I’m offering already?’
She stared at him. She wanted to say for him not to be with anyone else. Not to make her feel as used and discarded as Pummel made her feel. To let her have another moment feeling like she did when he looked at her like she was all he could see, all he wanted. That she didn’t want to ever see him that intimate with anyone else again. That she didn’t want him kissing anyone but her.
But even as those thoughts seeped into her head, they felt ridiculous, childish, naïve.
‘I want nothing from you,’ she said, shoving him away again.
Eden pushed her back up against the wall, forcing her hands back against it either side of her head. He kicked her legs apart with his, using every ounce of strength he had, pinning her there with the force and angle of his hips. ‘Don’t fight mad – it puts you at a disadvantage. Fuck mad, but don’t ever fight mad.’
‘Then do it,’ she said, her lips against his, her breathlessness fusing with his.
He looked into her eyes, pulled back just a couple of inches.
‘What you came down here for – just do it,’ she said, blinking away tears of hating herself for needing him at that moment. ‘Prove what you are. Prove me right. The real you. Not the mask you’ve been showing me.’
Breathlessness escaped through his parted lips – breathlessness from arousal, from their scuffle, no doubt from her glare locked on his.
Her anger soared that it felt so right. That despite needing to shove him away, she desired only to pull him closer; wanted nothing more than to feel him inside her, to feel him take control, to make her feel safe again, secure, to feel his skin against hers, his heat, his strength – to claim him back for all of the wrong reasons and none of the right.
‘And lower my defences in the process?’ he asked. ‘Are you going to finish me off this time? One way or another? Is that why you’re holding back?’
‘I thought you said you weren’t scared of me.’
He braced his legs, created a solid wall against her. Knotting her wrists, he pinned them above her head with one hand to free the other. She heard the clink of metal as he unbuckled his belt before he eased the crotch of her knickers aside.
She instinctively slammed one foot to the wall opposite, just above the handrail as she felt him push his way inside her just an inch. She snatched back a breath, lowered her head to his shoulder, bracing herself for what she knew wasn’t going to be a gentle penetration.
And she was right.
Grabbing the back of her other thigh, he lifted her knee to his waist as Jessie instinctively slammed that foot against the handrail too. He thrust in a move that was prolonged, forceful, agonisingly controlled.
She breathed deeply into his ear as he pushed to enter her further. ‘I hate you,’ she hissed.
He knotted his hand at the nape of her neck to tug her head back so she was forced to look him in the eyes. ‘For now, I’ll let you.’
But there was no anger, no hatred, no hostility in his gaze – just thick, palpable desire as he held her there with every ounce of strength he had, his parted legs braced, one held back slightly more than the other to secure his balance, his counterweight holding her against the wall.
She knew that was the time to fight back, but she didn’t want to. As he trapped her against the wall, filled her completely with his final hard thrust, she stared right back at him, their mingling breath as ragged and uncontrolled as each other’s.
And she let him wrap his arm around the small of her back, slam her onto her back on the stairs with such force that it could have damaged her if she was human.
He let her go only to tear off his T-shirt, to rip the buttons off the front of her dress as he tore it open, snatched her underwear off before tugging down his own. As he quickly found her sex again, this time he didn’t pin her hands down, instead he clasped the back of her neck, slammed his free hand onto the dusty step at her shoulders, his bent and braced arm flexing every bicep, every muscle in his abdomen tensed as he lowered his head, his penetration even less restrained.
She drew her knees high up his taut, firm sides, consumed with the desire, the need, to take him as deep as she could. She stared at the ceiling, dug her nails into his waist before she curled her head into his neck.
‘I want you,’ he whispered in her ear, his fingers entangling in the hair at the nape of her neck. ‘I want to be with you. And it’s killing me.’
Her insides clenched. She instinctively wrapped both legs around his waist, keeping him close to her, inside her, not caring that the steps dug into her back.
In the distance she could hear the window with the loose catch banging in the breeze, the smattering of rain against the thin glass, and pounding on the concrete outside like horses galloping past. The music resounded above, not even the laughter passing the door throwing Eden off his pace as he continued to penetrate her relentlessly.
She grabbed his hips before she clutched his bare behind, solid and tense in her hands as he thrust, sliding in and out of her with ease as their wetness mingled. She pressed herself against him under the force of his penetration, curled into the hardness of his chest, his neck wet from her lips. She dug her nails into his back then his shoulders as she cried out, one hand clutching the hair at the back of his head, the other slamming to his solid chest.
And she came, came so hard that she wrapped her arm tight around his neck, pulled him down onto her, deeper into her as ripples of pleasure shot through her body nearly as powerfully as his climax that followed seconds behind hers.
Lights flashed, darkness ebbed, her body ached as every nerve ending fired in defeat. The sensation, the freefall, was intoxicating. She bunched her hand into a fist against his back, felt the rhythm of her breathing match his, let his perspiration bathe her as she surrendered herself to the intimacy of him spilling inside her.
Just for a moment, she held him.
Then she fell lax, her hand covering her eyes, the other covering her mouth, her chest burning, her legs trembling.
He withdrew moments later to sit against the wall, allowing her to close her legs again, to push her clothing back to mid-thigh before she eased back against the wall opposite.
A couple of glimmering droplets of perspiration slid down his bare chest as he wiped the back of his wrist across his forehead. He eased the front of his shorts up but left his jeans open and low on his hips, hinting at the dark smattering of hair dipping deep below his abdomen. Though waning, his bulge still pressed through the gap in his jeans, his legs apart in a masculine stance. One arm fell lax on the step beside him, his other clutching the handrail behind his head, flexing those arms and chest muscles again.
With a sigh, he rested his head back against the rail, looked at her from under his eyelashes. There in his eyes she saw sadness, as if now the moment was over, reality had struck again. As if he had that sinking feeling, just as she did, that this was the best it was ever going to be. That even if he was telling her the truth, even if she had misread the situation, it could never be anything more. One day he’d either be out of there
, long gone, or she’d be nothing but invisible to him like she was to the rest of them, watching on like a ghost as he built his life in Pummel’s walls – or owned them.
If any of them survived that long.
Thoughts of anything beyond that and she was fooling herself.
And it hurt. Deep in the pit of her gut, it hurt like hell.
She reached for her underwear and moved to stand but he rested his hand over the top of hers. It was a move than made her heart skip a beat, then plummet. Because she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t allow herself to keep falling deeper into a bottomless darkness where the pain would only intensify, the loneliness eventually consume her.
She looked back at him, nearly melted under his gaze. ‘I can’t do this,’ she said, the words catching in her throat before leaving her lips with more reluctance than she would have thought possible. ‘I should never have agreed to this. I’m sorry.’
And she pulled her hand free from his, making her way unsteadily down the rest of the stairs.
27
His whole body ached, but no more than his heart. Because his titanium, third-species target had said more in those few moments as she’d stared back at him, as she’d pulled her hand away, than she had in the three days he’d known her.
He clenched his fist against his forehead.
There, in the pit of that row, in an act that could have been as raw and sordid and brutal as it could have been, it had been anything but sex for him and, as he had then seen in her eyes, for her too. She liked him. And it tore at him and scratched at him and made him bleed more than if she had physically retaliated. She’d given himself to him again and it made him feel like more the bastard than he knew he already was.
But he wasn’t. More than anything, the compulsion to follow her told him this was the final game changer. Because the pang in his heart convinced him she had become more than just his target – Jessie had become someone to him. And there was no way he was letting her believe there was no hope when she’d just shown him that he was now fighting for even more than what he’d come there for.
Blood Deep (Blackthorn Book 4) Page 30