MOLLY GRABBED his beautiful face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze again, the torment in his eyes ripping at her heart. “You won’t, Ian. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
He shook his head even as his hips jerked, driving that thick, burning heat deeper into the core of her body, the sensation so sharp, it was a wild, wonderful blend of pleasure and pain.
“You’re so small,” he groaned, his voice raw…strained. He lowered his head, rubbing his mouth against hers, his chest against the hardened tips of her breasts, grazing her nipples. His hips rolled, and he shoved in harder…faster, his muscles flexing beneath the burnished, sweat-dampened heat of his skin. “Molly.”
She turned her head, exposing her throat, knowing what he needed…what he was still so terrified of taking. With her hands threaded through the thick, damp strands of his hair, Molly pulled him to her. His tongue lapped hungrily against the sensitive stretch of skin, and her sheath contracted in response, rippling around him, making him buck.
“I can’t control it,” he rasped, the words barely audible in the seductive thickness of the morning. Shaking, he dragged the points of his fangs against her vulnerable flesh.
“Please,” she panted, begging…pleading, consumed by her own raging need. “Please, Ian.”
A sob broke from her throat, her body writhing, on fire, desperate for completion, and he clutched her tighter, a low, primal vibration shuddering through his hard, heavy form. “Molly,” he breathed against her skin, nipping at her throat. His chest heaved, hips shoving against her, his body thrusting powerfully into hers, and then he made a rough sound against her throat and sank his fangs deep.
She cried out, the pleasure rising so violently, it made her scream. She was distantly aware of the sound of rending fabric, and realized he’d buried his talons in the sleeping bag, the power of his Merrick rippling beneath his skin. He thrust into her so hard that he shoved her across the mattress, his movements primal and wild. The friction was so slick and hot and breathtaking, she couldn’t find her way through the chaotic frenzy of pleasure.
His mouth worked on her with hot, hungry intensity, the deep pulls tugging on her womb, the tips of her breasts…and he sobbed against her throat, the stark male sound completely undoing her. Clawing onto the slick surface of his shoulders, Molly struggled to hold on in a world that was spinning violently out of control.
He pressed down on her, anchoring her in place, and she loved it. All of it. Loved the provocative power of him covering her…consuming her. Loved the searing burn of his fangs in her throat, adding a deeper level to the shattering, relentless waves of ecstasy crashing through her. Pleasure poured over her skin like a shimmering, dazzling summer rain.
It coalesced into a liquid glow of bliss in her belly, then shot outward, swelling, rising higher and higher, rolling through her in a thick, stunning wave that kept growing…and growing. Suddenly he pulled his fangs free, throwing back his head as a deep, guttural roar surged up from his chest, his hips shoving him deep, driving him fully into her. Molly stared up at him, watching the dark, raging beauty of his orgasm wash over him as he came deep inside her. Then she was thrown into the most violent, mind-shattering climax of her life. For long, endless moments, the dark waves of pleasure coursed through her, and she thrashed beneath him, screaming and sobbing, holding on to him as he covered her with his hardness and heat, every lean muscle in his body rigid with the force of his release, his chest heaving as he gasped against her temple.
TREMBLING FROM HIS HEAD to the soles of his feet, Ian clutched her against him, unable to let go. The wave of relief pouring through him was so strong, chills broke out over the surface of his body, while the residual pulses of pleasure trembled in his muscles. He knew it was wrong to keep her here with him, but he couldn’t let her go. He wanted just a few more moments with her. Just a few more…
Taking mental stock of his condition, he was forced to accept that she’d destroyed him—annihilated his barriers and those scarred, impenetrable walls that had kept him together for so many years. She hadn’t scaled them—she’d powered right through them, leaving nothing but broken rubble in her wake. Leaving him wide-open to her, completely undone.
He’d never felt anything that explosive in his entire life, and he suddenly realized that he’d come inside of her. It had been brutally intimate. Incredible, if he were completely honest, like something he had to do again…and again, which should have terrified the living hell out of him. And yet, with Molly it had felt…right.
It had been perfect. And now he had to send her away.
Both man and Merrick snarled their fury, but Ian knew he didn’t have any choice.
As if sensing his tension, she stirred beneath him. “What’s wrong?”
Rolling to his side, he pulled her against his chest, pressing her head beneath his chin, knowing he had to get the words said without getting lost in the luminous depths of her eyes. “I’ve…fed,” he rasped, struggling for his words. “It’s done. The Merrick…he’s in me, Molly. It can come out now, when the time comes to face this thing. But I have to do it alone. I want you to leave. Get out of here. Go somewhere safe until this is over.”
Her curls brushed his chin as she shook her head. “No,” she whispered.
“Dammit. You have to trust me to know how to handle this.”
“I’m sorry, Ian,” she said softly, “but I can’t do that.”
Tangling his hand in her hair, he pulled back her head, saying, “You told me that you trusted me.”
She blinked up at him, so beautiful it hurt just to look at her. “That was before you ran away from me.”
“You know why I left,” he grunted, struggling to find the words to explain the way he felt. “I…I care about you, Molly. God knows I tried not to, but I couldn’t stop it. I can’t stop it. And I can’t let you stay here, where you’re going to be in danger.”
MOLLY HATED DOING it to him, but she wasn’t above playing dirty to get what she wanted. Not when his life was at risk. “And if I leave, how do you know it wouldn’t find me? Wouldn’t come after me first?”
He glared, staring down at her with an angry fire in his eyes.
“Staying with you, it’s the right thing to do,” she told him, stressing the point, knowing he wouldn’t want to send her away when he couldn’t go with her. He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t. And she was terrified, but no matter what, she knew she was safest there with him.
His jaw worked, and then he groaned, pulling her back against his chest. She could feel the angry tension in him, as well as the worry, but there wasn’t any other possible choice. No way in hell was she going to drive away and leave him there alone, with no idea if he’d live or die.
She snuggled against him, content to stay pressed against the heat of his body for the rest of her life. Lifting her hand, she placed it over his heart, capturing the beat with her palm. “Can I ask you a question, Ian?”
He threw one heavy thigh over her legs and pulled her closer against him. “What do you want to know?”
“What really happened between you and Elaina? And I don’t want to hear about what a problem child you supposedly were. I want to know what was so important that it kept you away for so many years.”
He was silent for so long, she didn’t think he was going to answer. And then, he finally said, “She was always a little out there. Just a little…off center, with her wild stories and strange beliefs. But when I hit my teens, she got…”
His voice trailed off, and she stroked his chest, waiting for him to find the right words.
“She got intense. Started spending all her time researching stuff about our ancestors, bringing people around that she thought could help her get the answers she needed. Some of them were just kooky, but some…some were downright freaks, and we started butting heads. I didn’t want her bringing these strangers into our home, around my brother and sister. And Elaina, she just kept sinking deeper, taking it to the point of obsessi
on. I warned her to leave me out of it, but she just wouldn’t let up.”
He paused for a moment, stroking one hand down the length of her spine, and she could sense the tension mounting in him, his heart thundering beneath her palm. “When she brought a group to the house one night,” he rasped, the words low…gritty with emotion, “begging me to let them hold some kind of ceremony to contact the ‘darkness’ inside of me, I’d had it. I asked Riley and Saige to come with me, but they both refused, too afraid to leave her.” A harsh, brittle laugh broke from his throat. “And I was selfish enough to leave them behind. I sneaked out with my stuff in the middle of the night, and I never came back. Never set foot in this house again, until yesterday.”
Shifting back, Molly looked up at him, lifting her hand to stroke the hard line of his jaw. “I know it must have scared you,” she whispered. “It would have scared me, too. She must…all I can think is that she must have been afraid for you, as you started getting older. Afraid of what the future would hold.”
“Maybe. All I know is that I had to get away from it or I was gonna go crazy.”
“So you left,” she said simply, and he snorted in response.
“For all the good it did me. Guess it just goes to show that no matter how far or how fast you run, it all catches up to you in the end.”
“Fate?”
“Or hell,” he rumbled. “I just…I can’t believe she never told me that she feared the Casus would return someday.”
“Maybe she just didn’t want you to live in fear.”
Regret darkened his eyes as he sighed. “Maybe.”
“So what now?” she asked, listening to the rain as it began to fall in a steady rhythm against the old roof. The hazy morning was melting into a rumbling storm, the air thick with humidity, sticky and close.
Ian rolled to his back, his head resting in one palm, the other pulling her into his side. He stared up at the ceiling with a sharp intensity, as if he could find the answers in the shimmering, rain-dappled shadows. “Now we wait,” he said.
“For how long?”
“Not long,” he murmured, and she knew he felt it, too.
Something was coming, rolling in with the storm.
He pulled her closer with his arm, and she snuggled her head onto his warm, firm shoulder. “I love sleeping to the sound of a storm. For some reason it’s soothing, no matter how violent it is.”
“You should try to get some rest,” he murmured, brushing her hair back from her cheek.
“Not a chance. I’m too nerv—”
Before she’d even finished the word, he’d rolled her to her back. Shifting between her legs, he pushed back into her with a deep, urgent thrust, as if he couldn’t stand not being a part of her.
“I don’t think I can sleep like this,” she teased, loving the feel of him beneath her hands as she ran her palms down the strong, sleek muscles of his back. Loving the feel of him buried so deep inside of her even more.
He pulled back, then surged in again with a slow, grinding thrust that made chills break out over her body. “Don’t worry, Molls,” he whispered, the husky words hot within the sensitive shell of her ear. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be so tired, the only thing you’ll be able to do is pass out.”
Her soft spill of laughter bled into a gasping moan, and then, moments later, into a crying, sobbing shout as the ecstasy rolled through her once again, driven into her body with ruthless, mind-shattering skill.
They made love throughout the long hours of the morning and afternoon, while the storms rolled overhead, both of them lost in the scorching, breathtaking burn of passion that bound them together, doing their best not to think of what lay ahead.
But they knew that with each moment that passed by, evil was coming closer…drawing nearer.
And when it hit, someone—or something —was going to die.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Laurente, Saturday Evening
WHILE ITS FROTHY LEAVES blew gently in the humid breeze, Malcolm DeKreznick rested his shoulders against the sturdy trunk of an ancient weeping willow…and ran the back of his hand across his mouth. His lips were moist…slick, and looking down, he could see the crimson smear of blood they’d left on his wrist. The Southern-fried farm girl he’d just killed had been sweet—and if he tried, he swore he could still taste her screams lingering on his tongue, just like candy.
He’d discovered, firsthand, that Southern hospitality really was as charming as they claimed.
Malcolm had found her skinny-dipping out in her daddy’s pond a few hours ago, and had been unable to resist, knowing he needed his energy for the coming battle. Chuckling softly under his breath, he licked his lips, realizing he’d never even gotten her name. But it didn’t matter. Who she’d been was no longer important. She belonged to him now, forever, same as the others. That warm, heady wash of life flowing from her—taken so effortlessly—to become something all his own. It’d been like raping her soul, as well as her body, and he’d loved it. Craved it. It was what his kind had been born for. What Malcolm had fought so hard to come back for, just so he could experience it again…and again.
Only one dark spot marred his pleasure. He hadn’t realized he would have competition for the Markers so soon. But he’d recently learned that two more of his kind had already been sent through the gate, back from Meridian, in exactly the same way as him. The knowledge didn’t sit well with Malcolm. He wanted Buchanan’s Marker, and had no qualms about killing his kinsmen for it, should they try to take it from him. Calder would be furious, but then Calder was already going to be angry with him for killing so many, so quickly. Malcolm had been incessantly lectured about the need to be conservative—but the choice had been taken out of his hands.
After Kendra Wilcox, his hunger had grown too strong, too quickly. It’d swelled up inside of him each time a woman had caught his eye, spurring him on, impossible to resist.
This is yours…take it…take it. It’s what you were made for. It’s your right, your due. Haven’t you gone without for long enough?
Still, he’d tried to control it. He’d taken down a deer on Sunday, but that had been before he was forced to watch Buchanan and his woman leave with that Watchman, snatched from his reach, when he’d had such inspired plans for them. Even from his place within the woods, Malcolm had sensed the talisman on the delicate little blond as they’d left her motel room, and in his frustration, the hunger had consumed him. To satisfy his craving, he’d needed the full, gratifying effect of his power, his domination, over his prey. Needed a woman under him, whimpering, begging for her life. Needed to see that perfect moment spill over her face when he showed her his true, beautiful self. There was nothing in the world quite like it.
Afterward, he’d hidden the teenager in the canyon, making it look like a wild kill, but he’d known Buchanan would realize the truth when he heard about it. Malcolm had wanted the Merrick slime to understand that he wasn’t going to just sit around and twiddle his thumbs.
The wind picked up, blowing the low clouds across the ethereal glow of the Carolina moon, darkening the sky, and his blood-covered lips curled in a welcoming smile. The sweet sinful night was his favorite hour, when darkness fell…and fears arose. When shadows stroked their chilled fingers down the length of a spine…at times causing the most hardened souls to peer over their shoulders for fear of what lurked within the midnight black.
Mankind was so much fun to play with when afraid—and yet, Malcolm was growing tired of easy prey. He wanted the Merrick, and tonight he was finally going to get him.
Lurking within the nighttime shadows, Malcolm had watched as Buchanan packed up his truck on Thursday night. A nosey neighbor had stepped outside her doorway, wanting to know where he’d been all week, telling him his brother had been looking for him. Buchanan had shouted back the words South Carolina, and Malcolm had smiled, thinking how sweet it was that the man was running home for a change.
Not that he’d needed to be told where Bu
chanan was headed. The bastard could have tried to run and hide at the far reaches of the earth, and Malcolm would have been able to track him down. But he was happy with his choice. He’d never been to South Carolina, but he’d imagined he was going to enjoy a change of scenery—and he had.
After he’d watched the Merrick drive away and had dealt with Aubrey Rodgers, he’d decided to go back to Joe Kelly’s condo…pack a bag, and head to the airport himself. He could have driven Kelly’s truck, but he didn’t want to waste the time it would take. Calder had assured him that he’d know how to function in the modern world once he found his host—and he’d been right. Malcolm had retained all of poor Joe’s mundane memories, as pathetic as they were. He could have even walked into his office and plodded away at that worthless job of his. Not that he needed to. Money was never going to be a problem for him. Calder had already seen to that, and quite nicely, too.
Drawing in a deep breath of moist, fertile-scented air into his lungs, Malcolm could barely contain his excitement as he considered his prospects for the future. The anticipation was so ripe in his gut, he could almost taste it. Once he finished destroying Buchanan and had possession of the Marker, he would free his brother. Then, with Gregory at his side, he planned on burning a path of destruction through this buttoned-down, stiff-lipped modern world the likes of which had never been seen.
And no one would be able to stop him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
AS THE LAZY AFTERNOON bled into evening and darkness fell, thunder rumbled in the distance, signaling the beginnings of another summer storm. That was normal for this time of year, Ian knew, and yet, it had still felt like a warning of things to come.
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