by Keri Lake
His hand slides back to my breast, palm gently passing over my sensitive peaks.
Arching into him, I part my lips for a moan, and his mouth finds my throat, my collarbone. Warm air blasts against my skin, and he drags his nose over the base of my neck.
“Your smell. So fucking good. I can’t tell you how much I’ve craved the taste of you.” Teeth graze my skin as he bites and sucks, and I squeeze his nape, mouth gaping to a silent scream. “Like wildflowers.” A guttural sound vibrates across my skin, reaching deep into my bones.
Every one of his movements brings a flood of memories. Nights with him in the pole barn, and our quiet explorations in bed. Lying under the stars. “You smelled like fresh rain and metal, and the sweet musk of soap,” I whisper, as he drags his lips down my chest. “I remember.”
He pauses to kiss each of my nipples, and when his lips finally reach my navel, his breaths turn harsh and frantic.
Pausing to rest his head on my belly, he grips either side of me and shakes his head. “I can’t do this, Wren. I want to. You don’t even know how bad I want you right now, but, fuck. I can’t. My hands are dirty. Too dirty to touch you.”
I slide my fingers across the short spikes of his hair, watching him inhale me. “I need you to touch me.”
“I got too much want built up inside of me. Been too long.”
“I’m not fragile, and I’m no angel.” Cupping either side of his face, I kiss him. “I need this too, Rhys. Please?”
Lips tight, he breathes hard through his nose, like a man backed against the wall. Waves of masculine heat pour from his body, telling me he wants this, too, in spite of the conflict in his eyes. In the seconds that follow, I wonder if he’ll abandon this, and finally walk away, but the longer I stare, the more his eyes soften with resolution.
Digging his fingers into the waistband of my jeans, he yanks them down my thighs, jostling me, and slides them just past my knees.
With fervent movements, he pushes my legs as far as they’ll go while bound by the jeans, and spreads me open to him.
He strokes his skull again, the look of worry claiming his expression once more. “Goddamn, I forgot how perfect you are.”
I reach for his hand, eyes locked on his face, and rub his fingers across my wet seam. A whisper of touch that sends a tingle beneath my skin, and I roll back my eyes, lost to it.
When he dives headfirst into me, I cry out, jutting my breasts into the air, while his tongue spears my entrance. The insane little tickles dance across the folds of my sex, and the smile on my face fades to a grimace when the ache sets in. I’ve had the mouths of other men between my thighs, but none so adept, so reverent as Six. As if he’s not forgotten the secret places on my body, the ones that taunt my fantasies and bury the pain.
His tongue explores every dark corner, every crevice, in a relentless bid for my pleasure. I open my eyes to the soft swaying of the Joshua tree looking down at us, as he devours me there, beneath the sun that burns the earth around us. He pushes his fingers up inside, curving them into that place he found eight years ago as we lay in my bed. Back when I was innocent, naïve, and profoundly starving for his touch, as I am now.
Pressure winds in my belly with every wet slide of his fingers. My muscles tense as climax edges closer, trembling, while my nails dig into the dirt at either side of me.
He lifts his head from between my legs, face coated in the shine of my juices, and removes his fingers, stuffing them into his mouth.
I moan at the missed climax, and writhe against the dirt, as he stands over me like a god, head tipped in fascination while he removes his jeans. His hard length sticks up from his thighs, and the size of it promises something exquisite. Something I’ve not felt in a long time.
“Come here,” I whisper to him, sliding my hand to the place where the phantom sensation of his lips still lingers. I’m all too aware my command no longer summons a boy, but a man—one strong enough to crush me if he wanted to. “Please.”
Rhys climbs my body, caging me beneath him, and kisses my throat. I grip his biceps, feeling his muscles flex to hold himself off me, and when he lines his tip at my entrance, an unearthly need builds deep in my belly.
He waits. Makes me wait for him, while he stares down at me.
My jeans still limit my movement below, my knees barely accommodating his big body wedged between them.
At last, he pushes inside of me, and I bite my lip with the pleasure of him filling me. A shuddered breath sends a blast of heat across my throat, and he bites the crook of my neck, releasing a masculine sound of approval that springs goosebumps over my flesh.
As his body rocks into me, slow and easy, deepening with each thrust, I tip my head back. Arms banded to him, I hold on, as he ups the pace with his hastened breaths, each pump of his hips drawing me closer to ecstasy. The pinnacle of pleasure.
Pleasure only he can give me.
“Six,” I whisper, before realizing I’ve called him by his old name. “More. I can take it this time.”
He lifts his head enough that I can see the hunger smoldering in his blue eyes. The need to destroy something. I hold his stare, challenging the uncertainty etched into the grooves of his forehead.
I wriggle beneath him to flip onto my knees, but he pins me against the ground. A harsh breath blasts out of him, and he rests his forehead against mine, his hips still rocking into me.
“No, Wren. I need to see your face.” He wears an unyielding mask of determination. “I need to watch you.”
I stare up at him with a blank expression, uncertain why the request troubles me. But while my mind teases out the messed-up psychology that’s become a permanent stitch in my brain, my body remains connected to what he’s doing to me.
His fingers curl around my neck, his thumb stroking my jugular, keeping time to the beating of his thighs. He squeezes just enough that I feel my pulse hammer against his fingertips, heightening with the excitement when he ups the pace.
I wonder if he’ll throttle me, here in the middle of the desert, where no one would ever find me, but I’m so intoxicated with ecstasy, I don’t even care.
My jaw slackens, and I blink away the stars floating in front of my eyes.
He relinquishes his grip, and I gasp, taking in the steady thrusts that push me closer to the edge.
“Fuck,” he croaks, and drives into me again, his arms pinning mine at either side of my head. Faster and faster. Deeper and deeper. Thighs beating out a cadence of ruin, he hoists my leg over his shoulder and pounds into me with the fury of a man in search of his own life’s purpose.
We’re dirty, with sweat clinging to our bodies, lost in ecstasy, like the world around us doesn’t exist. There’s pain and anger with every unapologetic thrust. The harsh dig of his fingers into my thighs tells me he’s fighting the pleasure. Punishing me for the temptation.
A sharp sting flares across my scalp, as he tugs my head back, and his shaky breath and quiet groans in my ear only serve to heighten my arousal. He’s vicious and merciless, pulling me deeper into his darkness. The roughness that once frightened me crashes over me and revels in its newfound freedom.
His arm trembles against my skin, fingers curling tight into mine with every wet slide. The first buzz that hits the base of my spine slackens my jaw, and I open my mouth to the impending crash.
More. More.
His grunts are interrupted by sharp pants of breath.
The tingles shoot up my spine, rippling across my muscles, as the orgasm fires through my veins in bullets of ecstasy. My body shakes with sound of his name slamming inside my head.
“Oh, God, Rhys!”
Through a strangled groan, he continues his relentless assault, until the first jet of warmth fills me. The virile sounds that spill from his mouth, the heat radiating from his body, the heady scent of sex, and the dry desert breeze on my face, is a feast for the senses. A powerful energy that electrifies the air around us.
“Wren!” he growls, pumping out the las
t of his release.
The little girl who would curl into herself, cursing and shaming her body, is no longer here. In her place is a woman. One who’s seen the darker side of man. Who’s felt the raw brutality of the world. One who can bathe in the aftermath of her sins.
For the first time in years, I feel everything again. The sun on my skin. The wind in my hair. The birds. The scent of poppies. And Six—the sizzling crack of a lightning bolt. My beloved storm in the desert. I feel him so deeply inside, it sends a shock straight to my heart that kicks a beat, and my eyes flutter open to the world that seemed to have stopped moving around us.
I want to breathe this moment in, consume him into every pore, and trap him inside of me forever. My body feels as if it’s unfurling, like the first desert blooms, coming to life.
He slows to a lazy roll of his hips. Pulse after satisfying pulse. It leaks down my thighs, and I smile as the warm, soft feeling settles in my bones, weakening my muscles in a drunken haze of lust.
His hoarse, strangled breaths blast past my ear, only this time, he doesn’t push me away. He stills, just breathing.
We both breathe.
Rhys’s mouth crashes into mine.
I wrap my arms around him, and his body shivers in my grasp.
When he pulls away from me, his eyes, hooded with exhaustion, carry a shine of tears, his chest rising slow and easy. “My little bird. My Wren.”
My Six.
Through a fog of pleasure, I stare up at his face, framed by the endless sky and the silhouette of the Joshua, and its right then I realize, there is still beauty left in this world. There are still amazing things to behold.
Sunlight begins to encroach on our little oasis, shifting the shade, as I lie naked beside Rhys. Only the gentle breeze dancing over our sweat-slicked skin makes the heat bearable enough to stay put.
“You found your voice.”
“Took a long time, but yes.” He entwines his fingers in mine and lifts my hand to his lips, kissing the back of my palm. “Your name was the first thing that came out of my mouth.”
“Say it. I want to hear you say it again.”
“Wren.”
I’ve heard it a half dozen times already, and still, the sound of it coming from his lips sends a thrill down my spine. “Earlier, you said you weren’t the boy I thought you were back then. I wasn’t the girl you thought I was, either.” Lying against his chest, I trace a jagged scar over his heart. “My birth name is Dani, named after my father. I don’t go by it anymore, though. Dani is long gone.”
“What happened to her?”
“Legion killed my mother and sister, and I was sent to that place. Just like you.”
The confusion on his face urges me to continue.
“My mother shaved my head, disguising me as a boy. Papa—not my real father—he helped me escape. He brought me to the other side of the wall. Reinvented my identity by giving me a new name, a chance at life.” Propping myself up on my elbow, I lean forward and kiss the scar I’ve been tracing. “I saw things no child should ever see. Experienced the most horrible things.” The bronze of his skin blurs with my stare, while my mind transports me back to those hallways, and the horrific cries of pain still echoing through my memories. “So many horrible things.”
He grips the back of my nape, leveling his stare, but like the old Six, he doesn’t say a word.
“I hear the voices, too, sometimes. Screaming inside my head. I locked them away for a very long time. Papa called them repressed memories.”
“You’re lucky to have forgotten. Even for a short while. I can’t get rid of them.”
“You found your brother, though.”
He nods, rubbing the back of my neck. “Tripp. And my father. He died two years back.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, trailing a finger down the deep groove etched by his pectorals. “Papa died, too. Rager bit him, and … he gave up.” I exhale a sigh and rest my chin against his chest. “How did you end up at Calico?”
“When Legion arrived to our hive, my father, Tripp, and I were out scavenging. Everything had been destroyed. Burned. We found the body of my mother and sister, but my youngest brother, Brenin, was missing. Figuring they’d taken him, we decided to track them and located the hospital. I volunteered to hand myself over. To get inside. I never found Brenin, though. They kept me locked in that place for three years. Until you found me.” The weight of his unwavering stare crushes me. “I’d be dead, if not for you.”
“And as I recall, I’d be dead if not for you.” Eyes trained on his lips, I study the scar there and lean in to kiss him. The one at his eye captures my attention, and I run my finger gently across his eyelid, which shutters closed beneath my touch. “What’s this one?”
“The night at the Juniper Tree, we were ambushed by the rebels, who turned out to be my brother and father. They never gave up on me. Fought to get inside Calico. Anyway, Tripp didn’t recognize me at first. Thought I was with those soldiers. Almost killed me.”
“What a horrible reminder.” I run the pad of my thumb over the puffy edges of the scar. “It must be hard to see it every day and know that he could’ve killed you.”
“I was so happy to see him, I didn’t even care. Best and worst day of my life.” With a downward gaze, his eyebrows pinch together, as if he’s reliving the moment inside his head. “Worst, mostly.”
Hiking myself up onto my elbow, I cup his cheek and kiss him. “For me, too.”
He strokes a finger across my face, tucking my hair behind my ear, and his lip lifts to that roguish Six smile I once loved.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Day I saw you on the other side of that wall, I knew I’d do anything to have you. Anything.”
What must be a girlish smile plasters on my face, drawing his eyes to my mouth. Hand to my nape, he drags me into him, crushing me against his lips with a kiss.
At a noise, I lift my head and see a Rager off in the distance, moving erratically, kicking around in the dirt. He doesn’t come near us, like an invisible wall exists between him and us. On my own, lying naked, even at this distance, it would leave me feeling vulnerable and nervous, but with Rhys, I feel none of that. His very presence blankets me in calm. “Does Tripp carry the alpha gene like you?”
He glances over at the Rager and back, tucking his arms beneath his head. “No. We’re not brothers by blood. His dad found me stumbling around an abandoned building when I was five years old. Couldn’t believe I wasn’t bitten. He and Alyson took me in, raised me as one of their own. I’ve known Tripp and Brenin as my brothers since the day they were born. Abi, too.”
“Your sister?” At his nod, I catch the flicker of sorrow in his eyes.
One small detail still nags the back of my mind, and I frown. “How did the rebels know to come to the Juniper tree? How did they know to ambush Legion there?”
“Tripp says they were tipped off by someone on the other side of the wall. Been trying to get in touch with him ever since, but he flipped off the grid. Can’t get the same frequency on the two-way.”
“Two-way?” Back in Papa’s office, I stumbled upon a walkie-talkie—one I hadn’t seen before. “I’m betting Papa’s the one who tipped the rebels off.”
“Maybe. Tripp stole the walkie-talkies from Legion soldiers. They were military-issued, so I suppose it’s possible.”
“Papa never wanted to hurt you. He just wanted to keep me safe.”
“I know that.” He cups my cheek, running his thumb along my temple. “I’ll never hurt you, Wren.”
“I know you won’t.” I straddle his body and bend forward to kiss his scar. Brushing my lips down his stubbled cheek, I kiss the one at his jaw. Then his throat. Collarbone. And back to his lips. “I’ll kiss every one of them.” My jaw shifts with the hint of jealousy humming below my skin. “Unless I’m expected to share you with the others.” The tone of my voice is cold and flat, and unfitting for this moment, as if my mind went kamikaze for a second.
Remorse leaches into my heart, and like everything, I ruin the moment. Annihilate it. Light it up with flames and watch it burn to ash, because that’s what I’ve become in his absence.
A destroyer of my own happiness.
None of the others have even come close enough to touch him, certainly not close enough for me to feel any sort of jealousy.
A slight smile steals away some of the darkness in his eyes. “No. And I won’t share you, either.”
“Good.” I don’t know what it is about Six. What it’s always been. He is fire in a rainstorm. A sweet poison that intoxicates me. A force of nature that defies everything I know—both dangerous and extraordinary at the same time. There are probably a million reasons to stay away from him, to leave this place and never look back, but I can’t. Not now. “So, what about the others? They want me to get you inside Szolen, right? To take it over?”
He groans, shifting his gaze away from me. “I’m not offering that at your expense. This isn’t going to be some Trojan Horse tragedy.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. But I already lost you once, and come war, or the fires of hell, I’m not losing you twice.”
Chapter 34
Arm stretched across Rhys’s chest, I lie beside him in his bed, taking in the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest, while he sleeps. The cool air of the cavern mingles with the sweat on my skin, adding just enough chill for me to appreciate his warmth. For the first time in a long time, everything feels right. As if I’m where I’m supposed to be, for once in my life.
A twitch against my chest breaks my thoughts, and Rhys’s hands fist the sheets beside him. The hard clench of his jaw, and the rapid shift of his eyes beneath his lids, tell me he’s locked in another nightmare.
Dragging my knuckles gently across his stubbled cheek, I lean forward to kiss his lips, and his eyes flip open.
Snatching my wrist mid-stroke, he stares back at me with a disoriented expression on his face. He clamps his eyes shut and opens them again, as if to blink away whatever images are churning inside his head. Large dark pupils swallow the blue, and the fear claiming his face confesses his nightmares.