Flame Unleashed (Hell to Pay)

by David, Jillian

  On the steps of the porch, he poured out his own suffering, his own experiences, his sympathy for her sacrifice, into the kiss. It was meant to be a balm for her, but instead, every press of her lips against his soothed his own battered soul, piece by piece.

  She ran her fingers through his hair and over his scalp, sending shock waves right to his groin. The scrape of her nails across his head sent his mind reeling. If she continued, his balls would explode, they were so tight right now.

  Desperation drove his hands in a frantic need to touch every inch of her body. He wanted to draw her into himself, take away her pain. Wanted all of that and so much more.

  “Ruth, I need you.” Mon dieu, but his voice had gone ragged, like the words shredded his throat. “But I have no right to ask. After what you’ve shared with me and all you’ve been through.”

  “You have every right and even more reason.” When she brushed her breasts against him, it took all his preternatural strength to keep from tearing her clothes to pieces.

  “I want you. Here.”

  He waved a hand to encompass the dark porch, the quiet night, and the rows of trees and acres of land surrounding them. No one would see them, but he had to take Ruth here, exposed, outdoors, in any way he wanted. He wanted to strip away all of her costumes and free the true Ruth. He wanted to be equally as bared to her. No pretense, no roles to play. Just two people. No hiding.

  Her breasts heaving, she focused on him for a full minute.

  The definition of torture lived in those sixty seconds of silence.

  Slowly, she pulled off her top, revealing ample breasts beneath a lacy bra. How could he have neglected this area earlier this evening?

  Dropping kisses on the tops of her breasts, he smiled when a shudder passed through her. Excellent. He wanted her to know every bit of his hunger, his desire. He had waited hundreds of years for a woman like this; he was going to savor every inch of her body.

  And he was going to enjoy her outside of the confines of polite society, outside of the structure of the house, outside of any pretense.

  He pulled her forward by her waist, appreciating how her luscious hips flared below his hands. Sampling her body earlier today had not been enough. An appetizer, really.

  When he unclasped the bra and drew it down her arms and away, the sight before him robbed him of speech. In the moonlight, her skin glowed. The darkness of her taut nipples contrasted beautifully with her creamy skin. Rapt, he drew his hand down her breasts, lifting each heavy globe and teasing the tips into hard pebbles until she groaned.

  After unbuttoning her pants, he moved down two steps as he slowly removed the khakis. Slow torture indeed.

  She lowered herself to sit on the top step, in all her nude glory, luminous in the moonlight. Glorious. Amazing.

  “Chère, the porch. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Will the wooden planks hurt you?”

  “No.”

  The sweet sound of her breathy words caressed his ears. “Then they won’t hurt me, either.”

  She sat forward, her dark nipples tempting him. He climbed the steps to better explore her full breasts. Each time he squeezed and licked, her back arched as a sigh passed through her mouth. An entire lifetime could be gladly spent, enticing those sounds from her lips.

  When he trailed a hand over her curved abdomen and lower, he spread his fingers and caressed her curls. As he cupped her folds, she rocked against his hand. She reached for him, but he placed her hands at her sides, and she gripped the edge of the step.

  He nudged her legs wide, so she sat, totally exposed, on the top step of his porch. “Stay in this position, chère. Please.”

  He scooted down several steps, not caring how the wood splinters dug into his knees. As he lifted his head up to meet her feminine lips, he inhaled the warm scent of her arousal. He slid his tongue up one side of her soft skin and down the other, then swirled around her nub, sucking until she began to shake.

  When he gently nipped the sensitive folds, her hands clenched in his hair. His desire spiked. At some point, she’d given up holding on to the porch, and he didn’t care one bit.

  Lifting one hand, he parted her folds, exposing her heated core. Her salty taste went straight from his tongue to his hard erection, which strained for release.

  As he licked back up to her nub, he slid two fingers inside. Her ragged cry of his name gave him endless satisfaction, and he curled his fingers back and forth while he flicked his tongue and sucked. She shook as her hips rocked against his mouth. She was perfect. Soft, strong, beautiful, tough, vulnerable, sexy. Perfect.

  He pushed her until she came apart in his hands and shuddered time and again. The way her muscles clenched around his fingers made other areas of his anatomy jealous.

  Time to rectify that situation.

  • • •

  Ruth knew she would never reach heaven, but if experiencing heaven came anywhere close to this pleasure, then she envied the angels. Odie making love to her on the front porch of his mansion in the clean night air was an act both primitive and beautiful. He had evoked emotions in her she had never thought existed, or at least believed buried forever.

  As he twisted his fingers deep inside of her, another tremor passed through her, delicious and warm.

  When she reached for him, he slipped out of her grasp and walked up to the main porch, leaving her reclining on the whitewashed wooden steps. She yearned to pull him back to her body. She wanted much more of this man.

  “Come here. Please.” His words, gravelly and sharp, weakened her knees.

  She stood up, surprised that she wasn’t shy before this fully clothed man. Even being out in the open didn’t bother her. She wanted him to see all of her, wanted to give herself into his hands.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said.

  “And you’re still dressed.”

  “I intend to correct my oversight immediately.”

  He stripped off his shirt, the muscles of his back rippling with the movement. She licked her lips, wanting to nip the skin over those muscles. When he peeled off his jeans, the knife in the sheath stood out dark against his lower leg. Pulling his briefs off, his erection sprung free, touching his belly, a drop glistening at the tip. Her nipples tightened.

  “If you might indulge my whim?” he said in a hoarse whisper.

  When he motioned toward the porch railing, Ruth hesitated. With caresses that reassured her and made her shiver, he gently turned her around. Placing her hands on the railing, he ran his hand down her back and over one buttock, moving her leg out to the side, avoiding the blade attached there. He did the same with the other leg until she bent forward at the waist, spread open for him. Aching for him to fill the space between her legs.

  There was no fear, only trust that he wanted her. She held still as he stood behind her.

  “Magnifique. You are the loveliest woman I have ever seen.”

  He stepped next to her, and she began to straighten back up.

  “No, please, stay like you were. You are a feast for the senses.”

  He brushed her long hair over one shoulder, trailing his fingers over a collarbone, down her arm and back up again. When his hand drifted over her belly, the muscles there jumped at his touch. He skimmed over her inner leg, over the heat pouring from the apex of her thighs. Moving to the opposite side, he repeated his touches, drawing shudders from her. But at his encouragement, she held fast to the railing.

  “Step back for me, chère. Bon. Now, legs wider, please.”

  As she did as he asked, her torso dipped to the level of the railing, her breasts tightened as her buttocks rotated upward. She was completely bared to him, quivering, hungry for his touch, trusting him to bring pleasure. He walked in a semicircle around her. A glance at his large, stiff erection had moisture pooling at the opening of her vagina, cooled by the night air.

  Still, he didn’t touch her.

  Anticipation mounted until she couldn’t think.

  He finally tou
ched her with the lightest stroke of one finger along her buttock, and she cried out. He continued down to her wetness and dipped a finger inside as she whimpered.

  “Mon ami, you are glorious,” he whispered. “I want to be inside of you. I want to make you scream. Oui?”

  “Yes.”

  When he spread her buttocks up and out, exposing her even more, her breath came out in tiny gasps.

  “Odie, please.”

  “Please what, chère?”

  “Please. Holy hell. Please anything.”

  “As you wish.”

  He pressed against her with a harsh moan. The tip of his erection rested only an inch inside of her, tormenting both of them. She tried to lean back, but he held her still. He withdrew, and she clenched her hands around the railing. Suddenly, he filled her an inch more and then out. Each thrust faster and deeper than the last, he continued until he had almost filled her, but not quite.

  “Oh God.”

  “Chère, I want you.”

  He withdrew once more, growled, and plunged in deep, stretching her. Over and over, he drove into her, thrusting harder and faster. His panting grunts encouraged her, and she met him each time. Widening her stance and rotating her hips up further, she seated him even more deeply within her hot core, nearly driving her mad with pleasure.

  Still connected, he leaned forward and squeezed her breasts. “Mon dieu, you will be the death of me.”

  How could she not have known it could be like this, so vulnerable, so powerful, so connected? Even his strokes on her hair made her feel complete.

  “Look at me, chère,” he panted. “See what you have done.”

  She peered back over her shoulder. The image of his jaw set, teeth clenched together in ecstasy, neck muscles straining, pushed her over the edge. As she screamed her way over the brink of sanity, he gripped her hips with one hand and pinched her nipple with the other hand. He sped up his rhythm and drove in harder than was humanly possible. His deep, guttural groans matched her passion as he followed her to a peak, spilling his hot seed into her.

  As she put her forehead down on the wooden railing to recover, he slid his hands down to her nub, bringing her to the brink of climax again.

  “There is no rest for us. We are not human. I do not tire like other men. And I will never, ever tire of you.”

  With a roll of his pelvis, he started the hard, hot rhythm up again, bringing her to another crest and proving his point.

  The porch rail splintered beneath her hands.

  Chapter 16

  Rolling over in the guest bed, a plush duvet tucked around her, Ruth shocked herself by yawning. Then she stretched.

  Had she actually slept like a mortal?

  Early morning light filtered through the lace curtains. She extended a hand over for Odie but found nothing but a cool indentation next to her.

  Her night had not stopped at the magical lovemaking on the porch, but continued after he carried her up the curved foyer stairs to this room. Afterward, they made love in the clawfooted bathtub, spilling water over the top and not caring. Then they moved to the bed and slowly explored each other inch by inch. From her toes to her hair, she had been deliciously pleasured.

  Sitting up, she surveyed the room. From lace window coverings to a floral patterned duvet, this was a room for a female. Interesting that he should keep a room like this. She spied her clothes lying on a nearby chair. They had been neatly folded. Warmth rushed over her face once more.

  She cared for Odie, truly she did. But she couldn’t trust herself to pick a good partner, no matter how wonderful the man and his sexual prowess.

  Odie had torn down the first several walls she kept firmly in place. The woman in his arms at the end of the night, that was the closest Ruth had been to her true self since she was a wide-eyed eighteen-year-old in Rockville, those 150 some-odd years ago. Actually, no. That woman was the truest to her current self. The Ruth from Maryland in the Civil War? She was gone.

  Without a barrier to hide behind, even her skin felt raw, scoured. Alive.

  All these years, she had withdrawn into herself and shared little of her inner self with others. The nursing allowed her to care, but even so, compassion filtered through her carefully constructed emotional barriers. Even this long after William was dead, his reach beyond the grave still hurt her.

  As she considered getting out of bed, the door eased open. Odie’s dark, tousled hair bore sexy evidence of their passionate night together. His eyes danced.

  But there was something more in his expression. A tension at the corners of his mouth. He was holding something back. Guarded.

  Dread curdled in her gut.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead. For a creature that doesn’t need sleep, you sure pretend well.” His pectoral muscles tightened under the gray Henley shirt in a way that made her mouth water.

  “Resting felt wonderful.”

  He stood at the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around her. With her face pressed to his corded chest, his warmth penetrated to her core, and his hands sent quivers of pleasure as he rubbed her bare back. His scratchy beard tickled her cheek.

  “You feel wonderful,” he said.

  She smiled, but sensing reluctance in his touch, she couldn’t meet his gaze.

  When would he betray her?

  Stupid question.

  He pulled back and peered intently into her face. “What?”

  “Nothing,” she lied. “I should get up and moving. Can we go back to the hospital?”

  He examined the bed covering. Like he was hiding something again. Damn.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Sure. We can go back to the hospital.” He paused, glanced at her face and then away. “I wanted to share some new information with you.”

  If someone dropped a pile of bricks into her gut, it wouldn’t hurt as much as the sinking feeling when she looked at Odie. “All right.”

  “Would you tell me about your powers?” At her sharp intake of air, he held up his hands in defense. “The ones Barnaby mentioned yesterday.”

  After a long pause, she answered him. “Why do you want to know?”

  “You’re a little suspicious of everyone, aren’t you?”

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  “Possibly. Depends on the situation.”

  He smiled in a convincing manner, raising his eyebrows to complete the effect.

  She returned the smile, but stalled for time, frantically considering the implications of his knowing the details of her power. Would he tell others about her preternatural skill? She’d trusted him with the shame of her husband’s rejection. Could she trust Odie with a secret even deeper?

  “I would never betray you,” he said, staring solemnly.

  Tears pricked again.

  She hoped like hell that Barnaby knew what he was doing when he dropped that massive hint.

  Exhaling, she said, “Basically, I can see into people’s minds.”

  “Like ESP? Telepathy? Can you tell what I’m thinking?”

  She ticked off her fingers. “No, no, and not without concentrating.” Could she tell him everything? Maybe not. “I can see people’s memories.”

  “That’s impressive. How long have you known about these powers?”

  “I first discovered a hint of my power during Antietam when I was tending the wounded. Maybe the heightened emotional state triggered it. What I didn’t tell you about my nursing work was that sometimes I looked at the memories of the men as they were dying. I’d send letters to their families, describing an image that I saw, and then write that the soldier had told me all about his wife, or children, or brothers and sisters.”

  “That must have given comfort to the grieving families.”

  The images of pain, love, betrayal from those soldiers overwhelmed her own memories. She’d had to pick and choose some of the descriptions. Sometimes the letter to the soldier’s wife wasn’t the letter to his love. Sometimes the last thoughts weren’t kind at all.
Had she been right to filter the images, to adjust them to give some thin consolation to the families?

  “I hope so. It was the least I could do.”

  She scooted over and tucked the blanket under her arms, over her breasts. The bed sagged as Odie sat on the edge.

  “I got better at reading the minds of patients so that I could tell them what they most wanted to hear. Or find out what they most wanted to hide.” Rubbing goose bumps on her arms, she shuddered. “Later, I realized I could use my power to find out when people were lying.”

  Odie quirked an eyebrow. “So, have you read my mind?”

  “Don’t have to.” She crossed her arms. “Seriously, I wouldn’t. The power has to be intentionally activated, and I’ve learned over time that I truly don’t want to know what people think about me ... or anything.”

  “You can’t mean that.”

  “Oh, but I do. After the battle, the next time I consciously used my power was when I caught my husband cheating. That’s when the power exploded into full force. I read him through and through and learned far too much about how he truly felt about me. I was but a producer of an heir to his line and a social figure to accompany him to events. That’s all. Nothing. I was nothing.”

  Odie’s warm hands enveloping hers fixed her in the here and now.

  “That was one bad person. No one sees you like that at all today, I can promise.”

  “Of course they don’t.” She flinched as her cynical tone betrayed her. “I only use my power now to verify the crimes before I use the knife.”

  “That’s convenient. Double-checking your kills.”

  “Convenient but sometimes gruesome.”

  “I can imagine. At least you know who you’re killing and why.”

  “I try to use the power to pick the worst criminals in the hope it’ll get me to the Meaningful Kill faster.”

  “Interesting.”

  “You know what was strange? I also got a weird wave of my power when I touched Allie. Might have to do with her own gift, somehow.”