by Rae Rivers
He leaned forward, dipping his head beside hers. “We’ll keep a low profile.”
“There’s nothing low profile about you, Declan.”
“You think I can’t do this?” He cocked a brow. “Want to take a bet?”
She made a low murmur and turned her face to his, their lips inches away. “If you snag us a shower, food, and a bed – without getting caught,” she added, sliding a finger around her neck and pulling out her chain. “I’ll give you this back.”
He didn’t need to look to know she had the skeleton key in her fingers. His key. Instead, he kept his eyes firmly on hers, every muscle in his abdomen tightening from their close contact. “And if I don’t?”
“I get to keep it.”
He slid a hand around her waist, tugging her flush against him. Her sharp intake of breath pleased him, as did the rapid rise and fall of her breasts against his chest. “Deal,” he murmured, aching to kiss her again. “But you know I’m going to win, right?”
“I’d love to see you try.”
“You’d be surprised what hunger can do to a man.”
Hunger that had nothing to do with the smell of dinner wafting through the air.
The door at the far end of the carriage opened to reveal a man dressed in a black suit, the sound of piano music playing in the dining room. “Dinner is served!” he announced, his words triggering a rapid motion in the carriage.
“You best get moving then, warrior boy,” Kate said, stepping back. “I’m cold and hungry.”
He flicked at the key she wore. “Say goodbye to my key.”
****
Kate pulled on the luxury bathrobe, whiter than the sparkling bathroom floor, and couldn’t resist a smile.
Declan had done it. He’d snagged them a room at the end of the train – a poky one, but it was private, had its own bathroom and a bed so perfectly made that she was loathed to crumple it. The walls were papered in white and beige, matching the scatter cushions on the couch and bed. Dim lighting showered the room in soft warmth.
Tightening the belt around her waist, she revelled in the comfort of the robe, grateful to be out of her clothes. The shower had been heavenly, despite the fact that she’d been plagued with thoughts of Declan.
Her gaze drifted to the double bed crammed in the corner of the room, her stomach flipping in response. He’d disappeared when she’d gone to shower, giving her the space she needed, but she doubted she’d have the same privilege when it came to their sleeping arrangements.
On the opposite side of the room were two couches that faced a wide window, the breathtaking views hidden by the darkness. Couches that were way too small to serve as a bed. Even for her.
And after so many uncomfortable nights, there was no way she wasn’t using the bed. Declan or no Declan.
Dismissing the unwelcome thrill that twisted her insides, Kate slipped his key into her pocket.
She was reluctant to part with it, but he’d earned it back.
A soft knock at the door had her turning around, the sound of Declan’s voice spurring her forward.
She unlocked the door, her spirits brightening the moment the aroma of food hit her. “My, my. You’re full of surprises tonight.”
“I’m hungry.”
“Did you steal it?”
He grinned. “No.”
“Thank God for your charm,” she laughed, grabbing his shirt and tugging him inside. “I’m starving.”
They attacked their sandwiches with fervour and ate mostly in silence, exhaustion and hunger overruling their need for conversation.
Once they’d eaten, Declan stood, gathering the empty containers.
Kate settled on the bed, folding her fluffy robe-clad arms around her. She felt warm and happy for the first time in days. A novelty for her, despite the troubles she still faced.
Declan glanced at her as he shoved the containers into the bag. “You look pleased.”
“I’ve had a shower, food and now I’ve got a comfy bed. That’s enough to put a smile on any girl’s face.”
“Girls are so easy to please.”
“And here you thought they were after your good looks and muscles.”
“Don’t forget my ability to sit through an episode of Supernatural without comment.”
Kate laughed. “You really watch that?”
He didn’t reply, a mild grin playing across his lips. Tossing the scrunched bag into the bin, he pulled out his phone, the smile vanishing.
“You’re anxious to make contact with your brothers,” she said quietly.
He pocketed his phone.
“It must be nice having siblings.”
“Most of the time.”
“What are they like?” she asked, dismissing the guilt that came with knowing she’d stabbed one of them. Stabbed!
“Different. Archer’s stubborn, serious, always brooding. A poster boy for control.” Declan shrugged and reached for the whiskey, settling back into the chair at the window. “But I admire the way he has it together.”
His words surprised her and she remained quiet, watching him, his image reflected in the glass of the window. His features were lined with fatigue, his movements slower, and he nursed his whiskey whilst staring into the blackness outside.
“Ethan shares some of Archer’s seriousness and he’s fiercely protective of his family, but he’s lighter and more easy-going. Always the middle man between me and Archer.”
“You and Archer don’t get on?”
“We’re brothers. We fight. We get over it.”
He didn’t elaborate and when a heavy silence followed, Kate didn’t push. Declan and his brothers had a lot of history between them and despite their obvious loyalty to one another, there’d also been a lot of hurt. She wondered how much of it had to do with Sarah’s death and felt a pang of sadness for a family torn apart by violence. A family she’d never met. Officially.
She settled against the pillows, her hands beneath her cheek, and for the longest while, neither of them spoke.
“What happens tomorrow, Declan?” she murmured, the sluggish tone in her voice jarring the silence.
“As soon as we get off this train, we’ll head home.”
Home. A word she hadn’t used much for the last few months. If ever. Her mom had tried to make a home for them – and in a way, she had – but they could never be completely at ease. Declan’s home sounded so domesticated and warm, a contrast to the cold, empty house she’d used as her base the last few months.
“I can’t stay in Rapid Falls,” she said.
“You have no choice, Kate. Anywhere else and you’re warlock food. You’ll be safe with us.”
“I hurt Archer. He might not be so willing to offer me a bed.”
“His bed is occupied.”
“I didn’t mean –”
Declan tilted his head to look at her, the mischievous look that entered his eyes shredding the serious edge he’d taken on moments ago. “Mine on the other hand, isn’t.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“I dare you to come here and repeat that.”
God, the man oozed a confidence that made her insides squirm. She flushed, grateful for the dim lighting.
Declan chuckled and sipped his drink. “Archer will be fine. He’s a sucker for a damsel in distress and he knows the risk if Harper gets his hands on you.”
“There’s more to me than just my powers, Bennett.”
Blue eyes narrowed in her direction, staring at her with thoughtful intensity. “Harper won’t win, Kate. We’ve already lost too much. Sarah –”
His lips drew together in a grimace and he turned away, his hands curling into fists. He frowned, seemingly angry with himself for bringing up his sister.
Kate didn’t press. Although she identified with very little of his world, she knew about loss. Guilt. Regret.
Sarah’s death still tortured him in a way that would never be cleansed.
Just like her mother’s death still tortured her.
Kate sighed
. “We’re a sorry pair, Declan, and I know you have your reasons, but thank you for helping me.”
“Attempt any more witchy joo joo on me and that might change.” He downed his whiskey and stood, walking to the bed.
Her heart fluttered when he sat beside her, the mattress shifting beneath his weight. His eyes held a storm of clouds and she ached to ease his sadness. Lifting a hand, he nudged her shoulder, rolling her onto her back. His touch was so gentle, an unfamiliar tenderness crossing his expression, softening the turmoil in his eyes.
“Declan,” she whispered, not sure if she was offering an invitation or an objection. Either way, the intensity of him had her rooted to the spot.
His hand trailed along the length of her body, settling around her hips. Boldly, as if he had every right, he shifted the robe aside, exposing naked skin.
His confidence enthralled her and she lay still, transfixed by his movements, surprised by the way he was staring at her.
“You’re in a lot of trouble,” he murmured, his husky tone washing over her, “and I’m convinced there’s more to it than your Kryptonite powers.” His gaze shifted to meet hers. “Do you really not know why they want you so badly?”
“Sucks to be me, doesn’t it?”
Her weak attempt to break the heated moment went ignored. His fingers brushed across her waist, setting flight to a flock of butterflies within her belly. He exhaled slowly, closed the robe and stood.
Disappointment flared, catching her off-guard, and she rolled onto her side again in an attempt to mask the sting.
What had she hoped for?
Eyes squeezed shut to ward off the images of him, she reached for the same resolve she’d employed three months ago that had enabled her to walk out on him in the middle of the night.
He was from another world. A superhuman being. A warrior devoted to another woman and destined to fight a cause she wanted no part of – a cause she influenced simply because of her magic.
That was why he wanted her.
Offering herself to him – accepting him in any way – would tie her to his world.
Three months ago, that argument had sent her bolting through the hotel door without looking back. Now, the idea of walking away from him sent her insides into a knot.
And it had nothing to do with needing his protection.
Kate’s eyes opened and she stared at Declan.
Oh, damn.
Declan had taken up his spot beside the window, reaching for his drink.
Silence fell and she lay watching him, willing her heartbeat to resume a steady pace. It wasn’t long before her eyes closed, exhaustion taking its crippling grip.
A quiet movement in the corner of the room had her opening her eyes and she peered at him through lowered lashes. He’d removed his shirt and was staring outside, sipping his whiskey. The bold shape of a pentagram was tattooed across his shoulder blades.
The mark of a Keeper.
It was the perfect illustration of the magical bond he shared with his witch and siblings. Four elements of nature, bound by the fifth element. Sienna.
Dark haired, masculine beauty stood against the backdrop of pitch black wilderness. He was breathtaking.
“Declan?”
He turned, offering her a small smile. “Get some sleep, Kate. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
“You don’t mind?” she whispered, closing her eyes again.
She never heard his reply.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Kate’s eyes fluttered open when she heard the groan, her mind snapping to attention. She blinked, trying to make sense of the darkness around her, her body lulled by the gentle movements of the train. A few scattered night lights along the outside of the coaches offered minimal light, but enough for her to gather her bearings.
Declan groaned again in his sleep beside her. Judging by his twisted expression and the shudder that tore through him, he was caught in a nightmare.
“No,” he moaned, the sound slicing through the silence of the room. His head moved from side to side on the pillow, his fists clenching the twisted duvet.
“Declan,” she whispered.
“No!” he snapped, thrashing his arms. “Sarah, no!”
A mixture of concern and alarm swirled inside her and Kate sat up. “Declan, wake up.” She touched his shoulder, his face, and called his name again, louder this time.
With a deep-throated roar, his eyes opened and he bolted up with a speed that startled her. He lunged for her, pinning her against the bed. Powerful fingers gripped her throat, threatening to snap her neck.
She clawed at him, choking, trying to form his name, but air and words evaded her. His grip tightened and he growled above her, the sound vicious and drowned in hot fury. She bucked but his heavy bulk weighed her down. Using her arms and legs, she began thrashing, felt herself losing consciousness, and fought against the panic.
“Declan,” she choked, his name a twisted gasp.
He let go, gaping at her as she struggled to catch her breath.
“Oh, God,” he grunted, his voice husky, and lined with confusion. “Kate?”
Holding her neck, she flinched when he reached out. With a guttural groan, he reared back with a speed so forceful that he collided with the wall behind him. The room rattled on impact, a lamp toppled over.
“Declan, wait!” Climbing off the bed, she went to him, overwhelmed with the urge to comfort him.
It wasn’t fear she felt. Or pity. He was hurting and everything inside her clenched in objection.
“I hurt you,” he growled, his entire body trembling with rage. He tried to step away but she closed in, cupping his face, her fingers brushing the rough black stubble.
“Don’t,” she said firmly, tugging him back to her. “It’s okay.”
“I was dreaming. My sister … I … ” He closed his eyes, dragging in a ragged breath.
She nodded, stroking her thumbs along his jaw. “Declan … I’m fine.”
His eyes flew open when she said his name, his gaze meeting hers. The need for words fell away and they stared at each other in silence. Heat prickled between them, different to before, and she felt the familiar pull between them. A shiver ran down her spine and she ached to hold him, to wash away the pain.
He tugged her hands away from his face and she felt the tremble in his touch. His gaze fell to her lips, his eyes a beady mixture of fury and passion.
“Declan, no,” she whispered but her words held no weight and went ignored.
Sliding one hand behind her neck, he drew her closer and covered her mouth with his.
Her sharp intake of breath was swallowed by a kiss so powerful, so urgent, that it shook her to the core.
Desire sparked, sending her senses into overdrive, stirring a longing inside her, and she clung to his shoulders while his mouth raided hers.
A low growl caught in his throat, the sound deep and primal, and he pushed closer, the evidence of his desire pressed against her. His tongue swept against hers, demanding more, and he slipped his arms around her waist.
Turning around, taking her with him, he walked forward. He pressed her against the wall, tipping her head back so that he could devour her neck. His hand slid beneath the fold of her robe, his Keeper ring grazing the skin along her thigh, sending her libido soaring.
His teeth nipped, his tongue sending delicious sensations sweeping across her skin. His hand found her breast, the intimate act sending a shiver through her. His touch was warm, firm, demanding, and she breathed him in, caught by the urge to abandon everything she’d ever been warned against and give herself to him. Again.
And this time, the urge was even stronger. She’d had a taste of what sex with him was like. Sensual, blissful, mindless.
Oh, she remembered everything he’d done to her.
She groaned when his head dipped to capture her nipple in his mouth, the sensation warm and incredible. In a swift movement, he cupped her thighs, tugging her legs around his waist. His hips rolled against
hers in grinding movements that had her breathless and panting for more.
He was wild, ruthless, consuming her with a passion she’d only ever known with him. A delicious roughness that threatened to scatter her thoughts and fill her mind and body with only one thing.
Declan.
Realising she was about to lose herself in this man, she fought for ground, reached for common sense, and reminded herself who he was – what he was. Getting involved with him would go against everything she fought for.
A life free from the supernatural world.
A bolt of panic spread icicles through her and she drew back, pressing her hands against his chest. “Whoa. Declan, stop.” Her words came out on a choppy gasp of air, and she met his gaze. Raw hunger stared back.
He froze and she felt him withdraw, even though he’d barely budged. He dipped his head, his temple against hers, as they both struggled for air, panting against each other.
With a low growl, he slammed the wall beside her, and pulled away. “I’m so sorry,” he grunted, turned around, grabbed his shirt, and bolted.
Sighing, Kate wrapped the robe around her. Her legs were shaking and she slid along the wall until she reached the ground.
Wow.
****
Declan snatched the bottle of whiskey and a glass from behind the bar, not bothering with the lights. The deserted lounge was in darkness, perfect for venting. He poured so fast that the liquid splashed on the counter. Slamming the bottle down, he downed his drink before pouring another.
Fury brewed inside, along with an undeniable sense of shame he couldn’t shake.
He’d hurt Kate, strangled her, dammit! And then like a madman, he’d shoved her against the wall and ravished her.
But he’d wanted her with a burning desire he’d never felt before, the intense need to consume her so powerful that he’d lost all common sense.
Anything to wash away the gut-clenching horror that came with the nightmares.
They were always the same; it was only the intensity that varied. But each time he dreamt of his sister’s death, he fell deeper into the black hole of guilt and despair.
Ignoring the glass, Declan swiped the bottle off the counter and paced the abandoned lounge, rage burning inside him.