by Bec McMaster
What? She most certainly was. "I—"
"So we'll play tonight," he continued, as if she hadn't spoken, "but I'm not taking you."
"You promised."
He lowered himself onto one elbow, pressing between her thighs again as he took her hand and opened her palm over his chest. "And we'll get there, gorgeous." His breath stirred the tiny hairs along the side of her ear. "But there's no rush. You wanted passion, not just to lose your maidenhead. So I'll give you passion, Ava." His mouth opened over her lips, his hand encouraging hers to explore the hard plane of his chest. "Tell me... what was your favorite painting?"
"Painting?"
"I know the answer," he whispered, capturing her mouth in a harsh kiss that stole her breath. Her hand was trapped between them, his chest pressing against her breasts. "You liked it... when he kissed her."
Kissed her? She couldn't remember seeing anything quite so innocent as that.
But Kincaid's other hand was moving, dragging her nightgown up, its hem skating over her sensitive thighs, and suddenly she knew what he was referring to.
Not a kiss on the mouth.
But there....
Her eyes shot wide and he was smiling down at her, looking so very, very wicked. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
"Now?" she blurted.
"Now," he confirmed, and laced his fingers between hers, pressing her hand back onto the bed.
The time for exploring was over.
She'd barely even gotten the chance to touch him, but that didn't matter, for he was certainly interested in doing some touching of his own....
Ava arched her spine, alternatively shrinking beneath him and grinding against him as his hips flexed against her. That heavy weight was no longer pressed unthreateningly against her leg. It lined up right between her thighs, the insistent rub leaving her wide-open and vulnerable. There was another tug, and her nightgown slipped up and suddenly there was nothing but her drawers between her and the slick rasp of his buttons.
Blood and ashes. Ava didn't realize she was curling her fingers through his until pain bit through her wrist, and then she looked up and he was looking down at her, an intense look of focus in those eyes, as though he could see every flicker of need that crossed her face.
Kincaid bit her throat and it set every nerve in her body alight, his dull teeth driving into her bare skin. Ava cried out, halfway to destroyed. She didn't know what she wanted, but more... just more of it.
"That's it, kitten."
He brushed the neckline of her nightgown aside, revealing her breast. Ava's bare nipple ached. She'd never had a man's eyes on her, not like this. Kincaid captured the aching peak between his lips, and she cried out as his rough tongue circled her nipple.
Then he drew back.
His hips shifted, his cock riding over her clitoris, and suddenly she sobbed, so wound up she felt like she might erupt into a whirlwind of movement. "What are you doing?" The words tore from her lips.
She'd been so close to orgasm.
Her body jerked as he kissed her clavicle, his lips brushing against the lacy scalloped edge of her nightgown. His breath stirred her nipple and she writhed, her hand clenching his again.
She didn't want to let go of him. Somehow his fingers held her together when she was so frightened she'd fall apart.
"I want you under my tongue when you come, Ava," Kincaid ground out, and the words did something to her as his hot mouth closed over her other nipple, dampening the cotton of her nightgown.
She moaned, a desperate, begging kind of sound.
"I want to taste your sweet little cunt." A flinch of her hips at the word. Then he suckled her into his mouth, and her womb clenched with need.
"Please... oh."
"That's it, sweetheart."
Somehow her free hand tangled in his hair. Ava gasped and rocked as Kincaid made his way lower, pressing gentle kisses across her stomach, and then lower, dragging her drawers down her legs and spreading her thighs wide with one insistent push of his spare hand.
"Ava," he breathed, and just like that gooseflesh erupted all over her body.
She wanted to be taken. She wanted to be overwhelmed by him, to learn what this desperate ache within her meant and how it would feel to assuage it. She felt so empty, so hollow, and somehow he could take away that pain.
Then his mouth closed over the wet, slick ache between her legs, a devouring kiss that scraped along flesh that had never been touched before. Ava gasped, her hand clenching in his hair. Oh my God. His tongue rasped over her, drinking her down, suckling on that small bud between her thighs.
A cry escaped her.
Another.
She felt not at all herself. And maybe that was the point. Beneath his touch, Ava bloomed, like some exotic orchid he'd carelessly plucked for her. All she could see was that bloody painting, and suddenly it was her body she saw lying on those silken sheets, and Kincaid's dark head between her thighs, and it set off something within her she'd never known before. Some illicit wickedness that should have shocked her, but she couldn't quite find the breath to be so.
She couldn't escape the pleasure. It built within her like a tide, ready to come crashing down. She was exposed and raw, and somehow this moment would stay with her for the rest of her life. Kincaid nuzzled and licked, and the spring inside her wound tighter until—
Ava screamed.
She had one hand in his hair, the other locked around his hand. Every last lick of his tongue destroyed her, until she was grinding his face between her thighs, sobbing out her pleasure. On and on and on, until she broke. "No more! No more!"
It left her wracked and ruined. Writhing beneath him. Gasping, her back arching off the bed.
She had never in her entire life pictured anything like this. Finally there was relief. Kincaid's dark head lifted and he shuddered against her thigh, his mouth shockingly wet as he kissed her leg gently.
Wet from her body.
Wet from his ministrations.
And then it was over, Kincaid pressing a soft kiss to her belly as he made his way back up her body.
He laughed under his breath as he dragged her onto her side, curling behind her. "Remind me to bring a gag the next time we do this. Let's hope nobody was home, or our secret's going to be out tomorrow."
Ava buried her face in the pillow as Kincaid slid into the hollow indentation behind her, his hand dragging her back against his body, where she fit, just so.
"I cannot believe you just did that," she whispered.
Kincaid tucked his face into the bare skin at her nape, nuzzling into her unbound hair. "I can't believe I haven't done that before with you."
And Ava pressed her hand to her flushed cheeks as he tugged her nightgown down over her bottom, leaving her with some protection from the press of his body.
"Feeling better?" he demanded smugly.
Her wrist hurt, a dull throbbing ache that had been blissfully absent throughout all of that. "Yes." She felt wonderful.
Tomorrow she might be able to look at him without blushing, but tonight was simply too much.
"Next time, you can return the favor," Kincaid whispered, and Ava moaned as an image of her kissing his cock sprang to mind.
Twenty
BREAKFAST WAS AN ordeal.
"Pass the butter?" the baroness asked politely, and Ava shoved it down the table toward Isabella Rouchard, trying not to look anyone in the eye. Jack was absorbed in the newspaper, the baroness lifted the lid off the tureen to examine the coddled eggs, and there was no sign of Gemma, Charlie or Malloryn.
Probably a good thing. Not much bypassed the duke, and she was almost certain last night's escapades were written across her forehead in a big scarlet letter.
Ava cleared her throat. "Can someone pass the jam?"
Kincaid plucked up the small pot of strawberry jam. "What do you say?"
"Please," she added, then met his eyes, and knew he wasn't talking about jam. Everything inside her flushed with heat. Damn him.
You know the answer to that, you devil. After all, he'd been there when she woke up, his body still curled around hers and his fingers toying with her nipple, until he slowly worked them down her abdomen, sinking them inside her and bringing her to another obliteration of the senses. He probably still had her teeth marks on his shoulder, where she'd bitten him to stifle her cries.
"Yes." Ava blushed, and swallowed far too much of her tea in a move that left her sputtering.
Skirts swished and then Gemma was there, elegant in green ruffles as she circled the table. "Feeling better?" Gemma murmured, leaning over her to press a kiss to her cheek.
It was almost exactly the same thing he'd asked her last night, after he'd... he'd....
"Much better," she croaked, her throat still convulsing with the need to cough.
And the bloody bastard simply watched her with amused blue eyes as Gemma patted her on the back and made cooing sounds of concern.
"Where's Malloryn?" Gemma asked, circling the table.
"Rotting in hell for all I care," came a mutter from Isabella.
Ava blinked, and so did Gemma, but the baroness merely pasted a smile on her face, lifting her teacup in both hands with dainty precision. She was usually cool and commanding, but watching the man she loved marry another woman had to be difficult for her.
Or perhaps Ava had missed some argument between them.
"So," said the baroness, pretending she'd never spoken. "Malloryn tells me we've had our first official sighting of the dhampir."
Everyone was suddenly all attention.
Kincaid scowled. "One of them tried to kill Ava yesterday." He swiftly filled the baroness and Jack in on events. Gemma already knew, as she'd been to see Ava the night before, and she simply stirred blood into her tea, her eyes shuttered.
"I survived," Ava pointed out.
"But it was close," Kincaid said, and when he looked into her eyes he was no longer smiling.
Gemma cleared her throat. "What did Malloryn do with the body?"
"Which.... The dhampir who attacked me?"
Gemma nodded.
"He sent it to the guild," Kincaid replied. "I didn't think Ava would want to be the one who performed that particular autopsy, and Malloryn agreed."
That was thoughtful. "Did you tell Dr. Gibson about Black Vein?"
Kincaid scraped his hand over his newly shaven jaw. "I think Malloryn did. He needed to know what he's looking at."
Silence settled over the room. Ava buttered her toast, though a sudden flash of heat went through her as she added jam. She wanted blood. Not toast. Her fingers curled over the knife.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Gemma murmured, and Ava looked up to find the other woman watching her with narrowed eyes over the rim of a teacup.
"Of course," Ava stammered. "I just think I need a little more rest."
Scraping away from the table, she made her goodbyes, and fled.
* * *
A hand shoved him in the chest as he turned the corner on his way up to Ava's room, and then Gemma was there, slamming him back against the wall.
Kincaid let her, holding his hands up in surrender. Their gazes locked, and he saw the fury in her eyes. "Problem?"
Gemma's lips thinned. "Any reason Ava's unable to so much as look at you without blushing this morning?"
Kincaid said nothing.
Gemma growled, turning away with a filthy curse. She shot him a dark look. "You promised—"
"I didn't promise anything. And I tried to stay away from her," he snapped, shoving away from the wall. "It just happened."
"It just happened?" she mocked. "Christ, don't pretend you don't know exactly what you're doing when it comes to chasing skirt."
"Ava's different." When Gemma shot him another glare, he held his hands up to placate her. "Nothing happened. Nothing... permanent."
"And is it going to stay that way?"
He said nothing.
"Jesus, Kincaid. She's a bloody virgin—"
"She's tired of being one. She wants to know what passion feels like, and we've reached an agreement."
"An affair? You're going to seduce her and then… what? She's not the usual sort of woman you toy with, Kincaid. Ava's vulnerable. She's too kind, too sweet, too—"
"Have you ever thought she's six-and-twenty, and not a maid fresh off her father's farm? And she's more than sweetness, and kindness. She's a strong, determined woman who could outthink the lot of us," he growled.
"Have you ever thought she just watched the man she loved marry? And now she wants to start an affair with you?"
He flinched. "I know she did. I know I'm not the one she wanted. But I can't stop her from making a decision like this, and I'll be damned if she goes searching for a remedy with someone who doesn't have her best interests at heart. I'm not going to hurt her, Gemma. Ava's.... You're right, she is too kind. She is vulnerable. There's a part of me that likes her a lot—" Those dark blue eyes locked on him. "Even knowing I can't give her what she truly wants, I'm still tempted. I can't marry her, or offer her a future, or...."
Or worse, children.
He wouldn't do that to a child. The curse ran in his blood, and he wouldn't. He couldn't.
"Can't?" Gemma asked softly. "Or won't?"
His nostrils flared. Jaysus. "Can't," he croaked.
"Kincaid—"
But he held his hand up to forestall her.
"It's possible I've seen the files Malloryn has on all of us," she continued, despite the gesture. Sympathy flashed through her eyes. "I know what he's asked the Royal College of Physicians to look into. I know your uncle is dying, that you were diagnosed only four years ago—"
"I told her," he rushed to say, scrubbing his hands through his hair. A sudden stab of panic made it hard to breathe. "I'm only just starting to display the symptoms. She doesn't understand. She wants to cure me."
And there was no cure for the muscular dystrophy that would eventually stop his heart.
A gentle hand pressed against his arm. Gemma tugged it down, sliding her hands into his, even the mech one. "Is that why you're doing this? Is that why it had to be you?"
He could barely breathe. Orla and Ian were the only ones who knew what he faced. He'd never spoken of it with anyone else. "I don't know. I just wanted her. Ava makes me feel like there's hope in my days. Have you ever looked at someone and felt like you know happiness for the first time in your life? I can't give her up, Gemma. I won't."
Something shifted in Gemma's eyes. "You stupid fool. You love her. How did I not see this?"
He pushed away from her, an odd note of panic echoing in his brief laugh. "Love? What's love to a man like me? Or a woman like you?"
"It's everything we ever secretly hoped for," Gemma whispered. "The type of thing people like us don't get to experience. Losing your heart is dangerous in this line of work. It deceives you as to whom the enemy actually is, and puts blinders on your vision, so you sometimes don't even see the world around you. Or the knife in the shadows. But the temptation always remains."
Now that was interesting. "You've been in love."
Gemma smiled sadly and looked down, the light filtering through the window and striking her black hair. "I thought I was in love. In truth I was living a lie, and I was the one telling it to myself. Malloryn's right. Emotions are dangerous. Love is dangerous."
There was a lump in his throat. "But it's also the one thing that gives a man hope and purpose. What happened?"
Gemma looked away. "It's an old story. A long story."
"Is he still alive?"
"No," she whispered, though she hesitated. "He was a foreign spy, Kincaid. He worked for one of Malloryn's enemies and I was supposed to seduce him, and pretend to b
e his lover. I succeeded," Gemma admitted. "Too well. It felt real, for the short time we had together. Dmitri and I...." She shrugged, giving a wry smile, as if to guard herself from the emotions she felt. "The truth was revealed, and he shot me, leaving me to plunge into an icy river.
"I don't remember much from that time. Pain. Cold. Trying to break back through the ice, and not being able to. Everything seemed to slow down. I was so scared I was going to die, and so I kept swimming downriver, trying to find a hole in the ice. That was where Malloryn hauled me out. I'd always thought him a pampered, spoiled bastard. Blue blood elite. But he dragged me out from under the ice, and used his own blood to heal me—and infect me. He sat on that frozen beach in wet clothes, rubbing heat back into my hands and feet, despite the fact my stupid feelings for an enemy agent ruined his entire plan and got all his men killed. It's the one reason I owe him my loyalty. He could have let me drown for my failures, but he smuggled me out of Russia and let me go unpunished while I tried to put the past to rest. And now he's giving me a second chance, when I don't really deserve one.
"Love will do that to you, Kincaid. Leave you broken and bleeding deep inside, where it never truly heals. For once in my life, I agree with Malloryn. It's not worth the risk, no matter how wonderful it feels at the time. It only breaks you, and especially in this line of work, leaves your friends vulnerable to the enemy."
"Ava believes it gives you strength in the darkest of moments."
"And that's why we love her. Because she reminds us of everything we've lost. That hope. Those dreams. But you're darkness, Kincaid. And so am I. And we're the type of people who ruin others. Don't do that to her."
"Truce?" he asked, releasing a shuddering breath. He felt like something had died a little inside him.
Gemma sighed. "Truce."
They stared at each other. He'd never liked her. Not the way he liked the others, despite their craving virus affliction. Gemma was too worldly, too guarded, too callous. She reminded him too much of himself, in some ways, and perhaps that was why they butted heads.
"I didn't mean to say what I said about Byrnes," she apologized.
It still ached within him. "It's the truth," he stated flatly. "For whatever reason, Ava cared for him. She entertained hope there was something between them. But maybe... maybe we could be there for each other. Just for a month or two. Before we end it."