Hotter on the Edge 2
Page 16
Their eyes locked, and she saw the apprehension in his. Here was her chance. Simply scream and armed men would come in and run a sword through his gut where he stood.
She took a breath and opened her mouth all the while enjoying watching the color drain from his face. “No. I had a bad dream and woke with a start. Knocked off the porcelain bowl on my dresser.”
“I'm coming in.” The door rattled as the house guard threw himself against it. And all of a sudden the image flashed of the last time she and Hudson were trapped in a bedroom and men were on the other side of the door trying to get in.
“No!” she screamed. Then knowing she’d over reacted, she swallowed some of her panic and found the right “Mistress of the House” haughtiness. “Don't you dare come in. I'm not decent. If I needed your assistance, I would've called for you. Now go, before I tell Elder Syon that you’ve disturbed my rest.”
A disgruntled, “yes, ma'am” came through the door as they held their breath and waited for his footsteps to recede down the hall.
Then their gazes were locked again. Lake glanced toward her sword and in one instant they were both in motion.
In a blur, she lunged for the weapon, but he was quicker and... heavier. With the full weight of his body behind him, he flew toward her and sent them both sprawling across the bed. He was on top of her, his breathing a ragged pant in her ear.
“Get off of me.” She barely kept from spitting in his face.
“Oh no, you can't pull the 'I hate you' act now. If you really wanted me dead you would've called for help when you had the chance.”
She let her gaze fill with fury, her vision taking on a hazy crimson color. “Because I want to kill you myself.”
His nostrils flared slightly. She hated that she was close enough to register the minute changes in his expression.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“The night's still young,” she hissed.
He didn't speak for a moment, and suddenly she became very aware of how his body laid on top of hers. How his hips had fallen between the juncture of her legs, his broad chest pressed against her breasts. And how his hands had captured hers by either side of her head.
“So it is.” His gaze lingered on her breasts, then spent equal amount of time on her mouth. Lake swallowed before even realizing how her body responded to his closeness.
He pushed his face closer, the roughness of his cheek a coarse massage. She could feel his breath. Smell the scent of iron and sweat drying on his skin.
“I'm sorry I forgot about you.” His voice a scratch against her mind, a trigger from the past.
The haze that colored her vision flowed like blood, and a visceral sound escaped from behind clenched teeth. There was a crimson moment where she would've given up her life for one minute of unhindered access to his face.
Hudson picked up her hands and slammed them back down on the bed, which had little effect on her, but his words did. “Quiet! They'll hear you. Or do you want them to bust down that door and find you in bed with another man?”
She stopped her futile fighting. She'd wait. She'd bide her time. “You're sorry? Sorry that you forgot me for two years? You're sorry does nothing for me. You’re sorry is the brand burned into my flesh, the methodical abuse I've endured, the guilt I have for feeding a diabolical insane man more power. Keep your sorry. I want your life.”
“Well, you can't have it,” he snarled. Then something changed, and a softness settled across his features. He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again his gaze had the familiar warm autumn that she’d fallen into so many times. She hardened her heart. She couldn’t afford to trust him again.
“I mean…” His tone lowered. “I didn’t want to forget you…us. I forgot everything, Lake. I woke up in a traveler's wagon, vision black and white, and no memory of who or why I tattooed your name on my chest. All I had was a pesky, little boy who insisted that I loved you, and that I was willing to give up everything I had for you. And by the looks of what was around me—my charred land, the bloated bodies of my men—it seemed like I had.”
He broke their gaze. His head bowed as if the weight he carried was too much. “And for a while, I didn't want to remember. Why remember something so powerful that I seemed to have lost myself, lost who I was in my obsession to be with one woman?”
Lake’s heart stuck in her throat and had trouble catching her breath. “And now?”
Hudson raised his head. Intensity filled his autumn eyes making her shiver. “Now...now I remember.”
Chapter Fourteen
Hudson looked down at his wife's face—her lips full and pink, strands of pale, white hair caught against her cheek, eyes ironically reminding him of the bluest forget-me-nots. By the look on his wife’s face, his words had done nothing to soften her heart.
Fine with him, how he was right now, there was nothing gentle about him. When he’d first seen her at the market his memory had come rushing back, but here now, with her body beneath his, another recollection seeped in. It was as if his muscles, bone, skin had imprinted the way she felt against him, the way she smelled, and he was sure if he bent down to kiss her, the way she tasted.
Mine. She was his, and no other man's name on her back could negate that.
When they’d first come together, he’d been kind and gentle. It was his first time with a woman, and her first time trusting anyone. The dance they’d done was polite and tender. Small gestures, romantic ones that had worked on her hardened heart and taught him the slow ways of a woman.
Now he didn't give a damn. Now, all he cared about was making his Mark, staking his claim. Making her acknowledge by force or by right that she was his.
So he didn’t care if she forgave him or not. He wasn’t here for forgiveness. He was here for what was his.
He kissed her. Nothing soft and quiet, but hard and demanding. She tried to bite him, and because he was pissed as hell and crazed with lust for this woman who'd tiptoed through his dreams and sent his heart racing without his consent, he let her.
His lip was caught in her small white teeth. He hissed.
Her breath came in pants. Her chest pushing up against his. He watched her gaze lower then rise to his. “You’re telling me now, that you remember, after all this time? I don't believe you.”
He licked his lip, tasted the metallic iron of blood. “You never did. Trust was never your strong suit.”
“Lying was never yours.”
“I never lied to you.”
She paused. He saw the column of her throat work as she swallowed, and a softening of her eyes. “I know.”
He kissed her again this time tunneling his hand through her hair to keep her captive. If she bit this time, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.
Instead, her mouth opened, tongue hungry against his. There was a war, a domination of who would win. Both were hungry, both wanted first blood. It was a matter of who would surrender first.
He drew away, conceding the battle, but not the war. His mouth found her neck as he pulled her hair to arch her further against him.
Lake groaned, and he nipped at her skin in answer. All of a sudden tasting her wasn’t enough. He wanted her, here and now, and nothing would stand in his way, her clothes included.
With his teeth and one free hand he tore at her tight, black shirt. He rose up then ripped the garment straight down the middle.
Lake gasped, and with the lightning speed of a fighter, she slapped him.
Was his cheek stinging? He couldn't tell. He hadn’t known his wife liked to play dirty. He guessed some things took longer than six months to find out. Instead, he focused on her ripped shirt and the binding undergarment that blocked his view of her breasts. They were bound and hidden from him with a form-fitting, corset type garment that concealed her from the top of her breasts to the bottom of her waist. He’d seen her use this type of under garment before when she’d gone out into the forest to look for ingredients or done any type of physical labor. He h
adn't liked it then. He hated it now.
If he’d had her sword he would’ve cut it off. Instead, he tried to turn her over to undo the tiny hooks in the back.
Lake struggled. “No.”
He paid no mind. He was beyond all that now, but she continued to fight him.
“No!” she screamed and tried to push him off.
It said a lot about his state of mind that it took him this long to figure what she was about. His jaw straining with tension, he could barely spit out the words. “Let me see. Show me, damn it!”
Somehow in the frenzy, Lake got her leg between them and pushed him off. She scrambled to the other side of the bed, her eyes never leaving his face.
He'd never come so close to giving over to the rage that threatened to consume him. Even in the heat of battle he'd remained detached. He killed out of necessity, never out of emotion. Except when it came to this woman. “Show me his Mark.”
“Don't, Hudson.” She shook her head. “You don't want to do that.”
He stared her down. Her hair was a tangled mess around her shoulders. Shirt half on, stomach billowing in and out with each breath, and there was no way this night would end without him seeing every inch of her. “Don't tell me what I don't want to do.”
He pulled his shirt over his head. “Take off your clothes now, unless you want them in shreds.”
She watched him from the corner of the bed. Her knees spread, hands forward, she was ready to flee or pounce, but he wasn't quite sure which. He toed off his boots, hooked his thumbs in the waist of his pants, and pulled them off as well.
“Lake, make no mistake, I will see every inch of you before I let you out of this bed. So get naked if you want to make this easy. Or if you want it rough…I’m up for a fight.”
***
Lake stared stupefied at the tall, sexy man, who hiding nothing, was more than ready to pin her to the bed and ravage her within an inch of her life. She should’ve moved, at least screamed or made some attempt to prevent what any sane person knew was going to happen next. Nope, she just stared. Stared and swallowed as her heart sped up and the oh-so-missed-tingling-heat traveled from the pit of her stomach to her more southern parts.
It wasn't until he made his move that her brain sent the signal to her sluggish body to react.
She turned to fling herself off the bed.
Too late.
He grabbed her ankle and dragged her slowly back toward him. She twisted and tore at her bed covers, but refused to scream. A naked man in her room was a sure way to a beheading for them both.
He grabbed at the waistband of her pants. Cool air smacked her behind. She kicked out, but it was no use, she was stripped from the waist down. Rough hands found her hips and slammed her back into him. She went still as his male hardness brushed against her skin. She felt his erection between her thighs and then without any warning, he found the center of her and thrust deep inside. She gasped in shock, but her body had no problem adjusting and quickly exploded in heat around his shaft.
His hand grasped the hair by the nape of her neck. His hips pounded into her from behind, and his voice was harsh in her ear. “Do you remember this?”
“Go to hell!” But her body did remember, and remembered well, as her female channel became slick and wet, and her own hips were soon rising to meet each thrust.
She bent her knees and spread her legs to give him better access, and he took full advantage.
He rode her hard. One hand on her hip, the other pinning her neck to the bed. In and out, he pounded deep inside of her as if erasing all before and negating all after. She was his, and he was going to make sure she’d never forget. “Come on. Come on, give it up.”
“Never,” but her declaration was weakened by a series of high-pitched moans.
“Come on,” he growled. “You know you want to. Come for me.”
He was so deep inside she couldn't tell where he ended and she began. Her legs quivered with restraint, a deep pressure built within her womb that begged for more. But still she held back. He didn't deserve to make her climax. She wanted him to know that he didn't own her. He’d forgotten her; he couldn't have her back now.
But there’d been months of intimacy between them as husband and wife. And Hudson didn’t need to hear her thoughts aloud in order to know what was on her mind.
He pushed her knees farther apart and lay down on top of her. With his hand, he reached around and found her moist center, and that special nub that he’d worked so long to find when they'd first been married. He teased her in time with his thrusts. Each one a invitation. Each one a demand.
“Give it up, damn you. Give it to me...now.” And he caressed the very center of her that seemed to be connected to every other part of her body.
She tried to stop the tidal wave even as she threw her head back and surrendered to it. Colors exploded behind her eyes and even as she left this world, she heard Hudson moan his release deep inside her.
And for one moment, Lake let herself be happy. Let herself forget as she rode among the stars that the earth wasn't that far below waiting for her to come crashing back down.
Chapter Fifteen
They lay spent together as Lake grappled with her new onslaught of emotions. Hudson’s face nestled in the crook of her neck as his fingers sought to hold hers. He shifted to the side, but still kept his leg thrown across hers. “Let me see.”
Lake refused to turn and look at him. Instead, she buried her face in the bed as she felt his hands move to undo the row of hooks down her back.
The garment parted, and Lake could tell as soon as Hudson saw the Marking. His breath hitched, hand fell away, and so did any hope that Lake harbored. She knew what he saw—the low dip in her back where Hudson's name had been slashed through with an ugly, raised scar. Then above, the jagged brand that was spelled out in capital letters.
Lake squeezed her eyes shut. If she dared cry over this, after everything she’d been through, she’d never forgive herself. Why did she care what Hudson thought of her? His look of disgust, the one sure to be on his face, didn’t matter. But her body betrayed her with a tremble as her heart sunk heavy in her gut.
She flinched as his fingers traveled the path down her spine. There was no pain, the Marking had healed years ago, but Lake could still feel the white-hot burn, smell the scorched flesh that resulted in the raised letter that had branded her as another’s.
Like a blind man reading brail, Hudson’s fingertips felt each scar. “My goddess, what did he do to you?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she lied. But it was a lie she had to believe. Had to know that what Syon had done was no big deal, that it had been nothing in order for her to wake up and live her life.
It had been years since she'd seen the Mark. Hadn't needed the reminder. But his audible gasps told her all she needed to know. And she couldn’t bear Hudson’s disgust. Not now. Not ever. She made to pull herself away, but strong hands stilled her hips.
“Let me go,” she hissed. But he didn't. Instead, she felt a soft, moist pressure on her skin.
In total shock, she turned to watch as Hudson's head lowered to the small of her back and pressed his lips to her skin. His kiss was slow and delicate as if, by touch alone, he could heal scarred tissue and bitter thoughts.
First the S.
“Stop it.”
But he took no note, just held her tighter. Then the Y, spending time on its jagged tail.
“No! Damn you.”
And all around the O, his tongue lingering in the center like he could encourage the healthy skin to expand and cover.
Then finally down and up the N in one long kiss. “I will do this every day. Every day until there's no more pain.”
Lake bit the inside of her cheek. She would not cry. “It doesn't hurt anymore.”
“Some scars hurt long after they're healed.”
“Don't,” her voice broke. “Don't be nice to me.” She couldn’t hold on to her righteous anger if he was nice to her.
His voice was a quiet fierceness in the fading night. A steel promise that, if she was foolish enough, she would believe all over again.
He moved beside her. “Lake, look at me.”
But she kept her eyes closed, face averted, and refused to respond like an open sunflower to the sun. She needed to hold on to her anger. Hold on and remember, because believing hurt. Believing would crush her, and she wouldn't get back up if she believed again and he left. She had a son to live for. She didn’t have the luxury of being weak.
But Hudson wouldn't take no for an answer. Never had. He always wanted what she so deeply guarded. Her trust.
He pulled on her shoulder and rolled her toward him. “Open your eyes. Look at me, Lake.”
Then there was no point, she was lost. Like the worshipping flower that followed the sun across the sky. She was destined to follow this man.
She opened her eyes. The moon had fled and the darkest part of the night along with it. The morning would be fast coming through her windows, showing her a new day. Lake took the moment to study the man next to her. Even this close he was beautiful. His autumn eyes had warmed to the richness of honey, and the fine, white lines at the corners took nothing away from the intensity in his gaze. His long brown hair had been sun-bleached lighter, and she liked how it looked all tumbled and messed from her hands.
“I'm so sorry,” he said. “I'm so sorry. I should've trusted what my heart was telling me. I should've trusted what was tattooed on my chest. I should've trusted us.” His chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh. “I'm sorry I broke my promise. The one I made to you before the Elders busted down our bedroom door.”
She shook her head. She wanted to reach out and touch his face, but for some reason, even after all they’d shared, she wasn't ready for that type of intimacy yet. “You didn't break it. You followed me. It just took longer than either of us thought.”