War of Hearts

by S. Young

  And then laughed when Thea took a gulp and spluttered when the burn hit her chest.

  She shot him a filthy look. “You could have warned me.”

  “Now where would the fun be in that? Sip it, lass. A whisky is to be nursed, not downed.”

  Doing as instructed, Thea sipped at the drink.

  “What do you think?”

  “It’s smoky. It’s weirdly nice,” she said.

  “We dry our malted barley using peat smoke,” he explained, and then his attention caught on a drop of whisky glistening on her lower lip. Conall reached out without thinking to catch the drop on his thumb. Thea tensed at the intimate action.

  Their eyes locked and everything he’d been feeling all day pooled heavily in a visceral need in his groin. Conall wanted to touch Thea. Everywhere. And he wanted her to touch him. It was a haze that made his heart race, his breathing deepen, and everything else in his world fade out.

  All he was left with was want.

  For this woman.

  It stayed with him as the mounting tension between them forced them to withdraw from the bar and head to their room. It remained with him as he showered, shaved, and changed back into his clothes since the hotel robe was too small for him.

  And it became all-consuming as he sat on the sofa, staring at a blank television screen while he listened to Thea shower, control straining at the knowledge she was naked in the next room. His imagination was vivid.

  He swelled uncomfortably against his jeans zipper.

  His skin felt too tight, too hot.

  The bathroom door opened, and Thea stepped out in the white hotel robe, her long, dark hair a wet spill down her left shoulder. Those big, shining, cognac eyes locked with his and whatever control Conall had been holding onto melted under the stress of the fire between them.

  One second he was on the sofa, telling himself to stay put. The next he was a blur across the room, hauling Thea against him so he could crush her mouth beneath his.

  She gasped, and he tasted her.

  No one woman had ever tasted as perfect.

  And Conall knew as he gripped her warm, soft body as close to his as he could get her that nothing would stop him from tasting every inch of her.

  Nothing.

  18

  While she’d showered, Thea’s hands shook as she used the hotel shampoo and conditioner to wash her hair. Her knees had trembled too, and her belly was a riot of nerves.

  She was worried about what she should say to Conall when she came out of the bathroom and almost hoped he was already asleep. The tension between them was unbearable, and it was all his fault. He kept looking at her like he wanted to devour her, and it was making her desire things she never thought she’d want again.

  When Thea stepped out, not only was Conall awake but the look in his eyes when he stared at her made her breathless. It was like he thought she was the most magnificent thing he’d ever seen. It was beyond mere sexual attraction.

  No one had ever looked at her like that.

  To know someone like Conall, so fierce and ruthless on the outside, so honorable and true on the inside, would look at her like that … Her heart was already racing when suddenly the guy was a blur across the room.

  Her heart jumped into her throat as he hauled her into his arms and up onto her tiptoes so he could kiss her like she’d never been kissed before.

  Thea gasped with excitement. A million reasons why they shouldn’t do this flashed across her mind yet were easily silenced by the stroke of his tongue against hers. A shiver skated down her spine and she pressed closer against Conall’s hard body.

  Like the desperate grasp of his hands, his kisses were deep, ravenous, and intoxicating.

  Thea never knew kissing could be like that.

  Desire swirled between her legs and she dug her fingers into Conall’s strong biceps, trying to get closer, closer.

  At her eagerness, he made a low growling noise that vibrated in her mouth and caused a rush of instant arousal. She moaned and pushed her hips deeper into his, feeling his hardness buried against her belly.

  Conall broke the kiss and Thea stared up into those gray wolf eyes, in awe that such a cold color could be so warm. His gaze was searching. Waiting.

  They both knew they shouldn’t give in to their attraction.

  That it would make everything messy and complicated.

  But the thought of walking away, of not knowing what it would feel like to be with him, made Thea want to cry. She was only twenty-five years old and yet she was weary and exhausted by life. There had been no moments of true happiness in her world since she was twelve.

  No escape.

  And no one had held her or made her feel essential.

  As necessary as breathing.

  Conall made her feel that way.

  She wanted more of that. She wanted to be touched, to be loved, and to touch and love in return, and Thea knew just one night with Conall would be enough to last her a lifetime. He was worth risking those high impenetrable walls she’d built around herself.

  Thea could go on surviving for however long time granted her.

  Tonight, she would live.

  She slid her hands up Conall’s strong shoulders, wrapped them around his nape, and pulled his head back toward hers. He gave another animalistic growl of pleasure that caused a stir low in her belly. There was a tug on her robe and Thea tensed at the reminder he would see and feel her back.

  Conall moved his lips along her cheek to her ear as the robe fell open. “I’ve never seen beauty like yours, lass,” he promised, his voice a rumble of sexual need.

  Thea believed him.

  She relaxed, and he pulled away, his hungry eyes meeting hers before lowering down her naked body. Thea expected to feel exposed, to feel vulnerable, but she was hot and restless and aching in places she never realized could ache. She shrugged her shoulders and dropped her arms so the robe fell, pooling behind her feet on the floor.

  Conall studied her so long, she was in great danger of melting into a puddle of want beside the robe.

  When his eyes returned to hers, Thea gave a little moan at the awe in his expression. Then she was wrapped around his heat, the wind whispering across her skin, seconds before she found herself sprawled on the bed beneath him.

  Thea chuckled. “Impatient?”

  His answer was to kiss her, voracious, raw, and sexual until her thighs were climbing his hips, the rough texture of his jeans against the soft skin of her inner thigh surprisingly stimulating. At the agitated flexing of her hips, Conall gave her more of his body, rubbing his jeans-covered arousal between her legs.

  She gasped, breaking the kiss as pleasure began to build, and Conall trailed his lips down her neck. As he fondled and caressed her sensitive breasts, his lips chased his hands, his hot mouth covering her in kisses, sucking and laving until Thea was a furnace of need.

  He savored his exploration, slow, gentle, rough, devouring.

  And when he moved lower and kissed her on the scar where Ashforth first stabbed her with iron, tears burned in her eyes. He was so loving, as though he was trying to kiss away the pain.

  She ran her fingers through his hair as his kisses moved south to between her legs.

  Then he licked her.

  Thea let out a cry of hoarse pleasure. The bartender hadn’t kissed her there, and she had no idea what she’d been missing. Conall grasped her hips in his hands, his hold almost deliciously bruising, and pleasured her until Thea no longer cared about anything else in the world but the coiling pressure building in the deepest part of her body. She felt the tension, this beautiful, all-encompassing tension, not able to give words to what made it the best goddamn tension she’d ever felt in her life, just that it was. And that it was leading somewhere spectacular.

  Her heart raced faster than she thought possible, she couldn’t catch her breath, and she suddenly understood why the French called climaxing a “little death.” It felt like her heart would explode.

 
“Conall,” she moaned, pushing against his mouth, the image of his dark head between her legs, his lips moving on her, the flash of his tongue, causing the tension to increase exponentially.

  Then it snapped.

  It broke apart and her cries of release echoed around the room as her lower body shuddered against Conall’s mouth.

  Thea shook against the bed, trying to catch her breath, wonder buzzing through her as Conall sat up, his face taut with need as he ripped off his shirt and threw it behind him. She watched him strip, revealing every inch of his powerful body, and she wanted more. Had to have more. She reached for him as he came back down over her, sliding her hands across the warm, smooth skin of his back. Her breath stuttered at the feel of him pressing between her legs. His rich scent of earth and spice surrounded her and as Thea ran her bare foot down the back of the hard muscle of his right calf, she had the urge to ravage this man until she was covered in his scent.

  Conall kissed her, softly, sweetly, and then whispered against her lips, “Dinnae hold back with me, lass. I can take everything you’ve got.”

  She grinned, and he chuckled. The tenderness in his expression made her breath catch again. Whatever he saw on her face made him kiss her with a desperation that had her clinging to him.

  Thea felt him nudge and then push and then thrust.

  “Conall!” she cried out at the overwhelming feeling of fullness. Seeing his taut expression as he held himself above her, trying to give her time to adjust to him, Thea grasped his face in her hands. Her fingers lightly traced the scar on his face. It was a reflection of him, of the lengths he’d go to for the people he loved. A badge of honor. Thea couldn’t imagine him without it, her fierce warrior wolf.

  And he was hers.

  For tonight, he was Thea’s.

  She launched off the bed, pulling him down to meet her lips, to wrap her arms around his shoulders. The movement drove him deeper, and they both groaned into each other’s mouths, before Conall pushed them back to the bed, his hands on her thighs to open her wider. As they kissed, a breathless catch of mouth against mouth, he powered into her over and over.

  Thea traced her hands down his back, wanting to learn every inch of him, and delighted at the feel of his hard ass flexing with every thrust. She dug her fingers into his cheeks, wanting him deeper, harder.

  “Fuck, Thea,” he grunted, his teeth clenched, his neck straining and his thrusts stuttering.

  She understood when his hips jerked against hers and she felt him release inside her. Thea caressed his back as he pressed his forehead to her shoulder, trying to catch his breath.

  It was wonderful. She was powerful. Needed. Wanted.

  However, her own tension was unspent.

  Conall began to press kisses along her shoulders, trailing his mouth up her neck to her lips. His kisses were slow, languorous … possessive. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and luxuriated in them. She didn’t want the touching to stop, the closeness to end.

  And neither apparently did Conall.

  She felt it when he was ready again and this time Thea took over. She pushed him to his ass so she could straddle him but grew rigid when his hands slid over the scars on her back.

  Conall felt the change in her. “Does my scar bother you, Thea?” he asked, his voice hoarse with passion.

  She immediately trailed her fingers down his scar, her eyes locked with his. “No. It’s part of what makes you, you.”

  Something she didn’t understand darkened his expression, and he drew her closer. He trailed the tips of his fingers down the middle of her back, where the healed wounds made her skin uneven. She felt like she couldn’t breathe.

  “This doesnae make you less beautiful, Thea. It makes you more. More of everything. More than any man, especially me, deserves in his hands,” he growled against her lips. “So fucking stunning wrapped around me. I couldnae care less if you were covered in scars. Your body is beautiful.” He slid one hand around her rib to cup her right breast. “But that’s not why I want you.”

  Disbelief clouded Thea’s eyes. It was why men always wanted her.

  He saw it and his gaze flashed in warning. “I’m not lying. We shouldnae be doing this. Both of us know that. And if you were just a beautiful woman, I wouldnae be here, doing what I know we shouldnae be doing. But you’re not just a beautiful woman, are you? And I know I’m not just a warm body for you.”

  No, he wasn’t.

  But she didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to think, period.

  Thea kissed him, wrapping her arms tight around his shoulders, flexing her hips as he tangled his fingers through her wet, dark hair and returned her kiss for desperate kiss. She began to ride him, hard, soaring toward another climax at the thick glide of him inside her and the pleasure suffusing his face.

  They both knew this couldn’t last, whatever madness this was between them, so they would take and take and take tonight until there was nothing left to give in the morning.

  As Thea reveled in their passion, climbing upward to a bliss unlike anything she’d ever experienced, she wasn’t cognizant of the static filling the air. She was aware only of Conall beneath her, the feel of his hard abs under her exploring fingertips, his teeth flashing with a hungry snarl, his fingers biting into her hips as he flexed his own upwards in impressive thrusts. She had no idea her eyes had bled gold. That her energy emanated out into the room. So when she reached orgasm, ecstasy more than she’d ever hoped to experience, it was any wonder every light in the room exploded, shrouding them in darkness.

  Thea gasped and Conall wrapped his arms tight around her, rolling her onto her back. He didn’t seem to care she’d caused a blackout as he continued to move inside her, murmuring how much he needed her, how much he wanted her as he chased his own release and came with a ragged shout in her ear.

  19

  The morning came and still they wanted.

  Thea wondered if human women felt sore after a full night of lovemaking. She didn’t feel sore because, “Hello, magical healing powers,” but she tingled between the legs with the knowledge that Conall had spent most of the night buried in her.

  They’d woken up that morning with a silent understanding between them. There was no mention of a change of plans, that Thea wouldn’t have to go to Ashforth. They both knew that was impossible if they wanted to save Callie.

  However, they also both awoke still wanting each other, still wanting the connection, and seemed to come to the wordless agreement it was okay to indulge in that need until their time together was over.

  They showered together, which was a new experience for Thea. It was wonderful to be petted and explored and washed clean by Conall. They shared wry looks at the broken bulbs in the room and Conall made a crack about the damage charge on his credit card. Thea thought he looked kind of smug that he’d managed to make her lose control like that.

  And when they left the room, he reached for her hand. He held it as they went downstairs and while they looked over the breakfast buffet in the hotel restaurant, caressing her skin with a swipe of his thumb gently back and forth.

  Every part of Thea was aware of every part of Conall.

  Sitting at breakfast, they didn’t say a word at first as they ate, but now and then their eyes would meet, and she’d know he was remembering something particularly delicious from the night before because he’d flash her a wicked smile that made her laugh.

  She looked down at his plate, piled high with enough eggs and bacon to feed three men. “Hungry this morning?”

  “Aye. Someone kept me awake most of the night with her insatiable appetite.”

  She snorted. “Insatiable, huh? Well, I’m sorry if I’ve got too much stamina for you.”

  Conall narrowed his eyes but she could see the humor dancing in them. “Dinnae you worry about my stamina, lass. I’m quite happy to prove I can keep you satisfied for however long you wish it.”

  Flushing at the thought of keeping Conall as her personal sex
slave, Thea marveled at how she’d gone from being ambivalent about sex to feeling pretty goddamn turned on all the time.

  She guessed that’s what happened when you were attracted to a guy who was part animal.

  Speaking of, Thea had a thought, remembering how she’d gently or maybe not so gently, bit Conall’s shoulder last night as she came for the third time. He’d liked it. Very much. What he didn’t do at any point was drag his teeth over her skin. She’d remembered what he’d said about a werewolf’s bite either killing a human or changing them.

  She lowered her voice. “How do you turn someone into a werewolf?”

  Conall almost choked on a bite of scrambled egg. He coughed, took a swig of coffee, and stared incredulously at her. “Why do you ask?”

  Thea shrugged. “Just curious. Why? Is it a secret?”

  Shaking his head, he leaned across the table to tell her quietly, “Werewolves are hard to make. Most wolves are born, not made. It takes a rare, strong human to survive a werewolf’s bite.”

  “And does it have to be intentional? Or can an accidental nip cause the change?”

  He nodded. “We have to be very careful. If our saliva or blood gets into the wounds, which, let’s face it, our saliva most certainly will, the human becomes infected. It’s like passing a mutation onto them and their body must be strong to take on that mutation. Most people arenae strong enough. A human dies of a werewolf’s bite 98 percent of the time. In comparison, a human almost always survives the change to a vampire.”

  Wow. That was a low change rate. “But the TV shows got the vamp thing right? Vampires in comparison are made, not born. And a vampire has to drink a person to the brink of death for a human to turn?”

  Conall scowled. “Aye. Then they make the victim drink their blood to complete the transition. Dirty bastards.”

  Thea burst out laughing. Sometimes he was hilarious without even trying. His scowl disappeared as he watched her laugh, his own eyes bright with mirth as Thea dabbed at the corner of her eyes.

  “You’re funny,” she said, reaching for another slice of toast.