by Billi Jean
She was holding her breath, he noticed, which, as inappropriate as it was when she was hurting, seemed to wake Little Rickie up. She let it out in a burst of warmth against his cheek, and the sigh traveled down to the boys, making them join in with Rickie on how damn wonderful she was, even hurt.
The feel of her hand on his arm, caressing slowly up his biceps to his shoulder, sent another shock wave down to his toes.
“Kincaid,” she whispered.
“Yeah?” he managed.
“You just want to get laid.”
He gave her the frown such nonsense deserved. “Baby, ten bucks says you’re wishing you weren’t hurt right now.”
She smiled, too briefly, and groaned. “I am hurting.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, wishing she wasn’t. “I don’t like you getting hurt, Hunter. Damn it, I really don’t like you getting hurt.”
She smiled again, but it faded, replaced by a hard frown.
“What?” he asked, puzzled by the way she studied him.
“You stink.”
He laughed again then stopped, worried he was shaking the bed. “Great. That’s sweet, really. Way to stroke my ego, girlie. Man, its good I have such a high opinion of myself, huh?” he teased, easing off the bed.
She groaned and shook her head slightly.
“It isn’t?” he asked getting another pain-filled half smile, half grimace. “Great. Well, that’s great. I’ll go shower—in the cold water, I might add—but for you, I’ll do it.”
“The water heater is gas. You can light it,” she offered quietly.
“Damn, you are really good to have around. But I think I need that cold shower. I’ll light it for you, though.” He winked, not missing the way she glanced down at his hips. He bent over and stole a kiss before she could stop him.
In his opinion, Hunter needed constant reassurance, and he was the guy to give it, because it was damn hard keeping his hands off her. It baffled him why she couldn’t see that he couldn’t care less about her scar or what she was being accused of. But he wasn’t going to quit trying to convince her. Not now that he was on her team.
“Behave, and don’t get hurt while I get some things done, okay?”
She huffed out a soft laugh, still not completely forgiving him, he could tell. That was fine. He had an idea of how to make up for his temporary lapse of sanity. To hell with everyone else. He knew when a person was bad to the core. Hunter wasn’t.
Hunter was solid gold, all the way to her toes.
Chapter Eighteen
Hunter woke to warmth she was afraid she could get used to feeling. Kincaid.
He’d spooned her. His unfamiliar heat saturated every inch of her. Unlike yesterday, when she’d woken afraid in his arms, this time his presence soothed her. She instantly knew she liked the sensation, and when he was gone, she’d probably never be able to sleep again.
She fell back asleep, still worried, but hurting enough to trust that Rick Kincaid was here and she was safe.
The next time she woke, she was groggy and the pain was worse.
“Hey, Sparky, there you are, here, drink this.” Kincaid pushed a hand under her head, lifted it and gave her a drink of water.
She sipped it gratefully. It felt as if someone had used her for a punching bag. He pressed two pills against her lips and she swallowed them, eager to have the pain disappear again. The bitter taste caused her to gag, but after another drink of water, she was too exhausted to care.
“Go back to sleep,” he urged, curling his warmth around her again.
She eased back against him. His heat soothed the aches and pains. He brushed a cool cloth to her forehead, but that too was so gentle, she didn’t mind. Slowly she sank into a lull, then a deeper, more restful sleep.
Kincaid, what am I going to do with you?
* * * *
Kincaid wasn’t sure how much longer he could let Hunter sleep. She had sipped water off and on for him, and she’d taken every pill he’d given her, but they were going on three days now. She seemed ready to sleep for three more.
It was fine by him on the one hand. She was healing. Each day she slept, dozed really, he changed her bandage, and each day it got a tiny bit better. Still, not the way he’d hoped an immortal would heal. Hell, he recovered faster. But the knife wound was scabbing. In a few more days he’d have to take out the stitches, if not today. The gunshot was done, mostly just a scab now that would protect the site until it fell off naturally.
But on the other hand, he just didn’t know enough about her to know if it was normal to sleep for so long. She had after her return from hell.
He eased off the bed and crossed to his phone and contemplated what to do.
Finally, he called Jack.
Of course the man answered on the first ring.
“Hell, what’s been going on? We heard from—”
“Torment was a mistake,” Kincaid said right off. “He damaged her more than the damn wolf with a knife.”
“We heard. For the record, Trouble laid into him and he is one sorry bastard. It’s tough though, Kincaid. She’s being—” Jack was gearing up for more when Kincaid stopped him.
“Look, I don’t give a monkey’s uncle what anyone is saying or how tough it is. She’s gold. She’s solid. Got it?”
A brief pause followed by, “Got it. Is she healing?”
“She’s been stabbed in the stomach, for fuck’s sake!”
“Yeah, we got that. Is she healing? Trouble says not all witches can simply heal, lickety split.”
“No. Yes, she is healing, but she’s sleeping. This whole time, she’s been sleeping.”
“That’s good. Let her. Sleep is good. Where are you?”
Rick had found an old phone book and pieced his location together. He was in New England, just north of Salem, in a mansion on a deserted road. The place was old money, but worn down, as if it’d suffered something, the Depression maybe.
“Just north of Salem.”
“Mass?”
“Yeah, Mass. It’s her adopted mother’s. I get a bad vibe off the place. If I had to peg it, I’d say they got her, abused her pretty bad—maybe the old woman, definitely the sister and the uncle? He was… Well, he wasn’t right. Put it this way. If she grew up here, no wonder she got into some trouble.”
“Huh, and that close to the coven,” Jack murmured. “That’s something.”
“Why?”
“She’s a Jade witch. That means she’s… Well, like she and Trouble, Tabithia, Aubrey…all the Jade witches are Celts, and they share the same set of ancestors back to who knows when, and Hunter is one of them. But she was raised there. And if your assessment of the place is accurate, she was in hell long before the stab to the chest last month. Trouble never could understand where Hunter came from, and I know for a fact she had no clue Hunter was raised within miles of the heart of their coven.”
Aubrey had hinted at the Celtic thing—or more than hinted.
“Where is Aubrey?”
“In Scotland. She gave Trouble some kind of hell, then left to follow a lead on what really happened to Hunter. Why Hunter was…you know, back, and scarred.”
“Right. That’s important. She needs to find that out, man. That wolf, Larisa, is working with Satan. She threatened to kill me and force Hunter to do his dirty work again to save me.”
“Damn,” Jack muttered. “Are you sure you and Hunter should be hunting up north, alone, not with a full team?”
“My gut says she still needs this, Jack. She’s as skittish as a cat around a yard full of barking dogs. I think this is helping or yeah, maybe I hope it is. But I still think north is where we need to be.”
“Then you’d better haul your ass and get better at keeping her safe. Shit, you’ve done better with strangers than a woman you can’t seem to get enough of, huh?”
Rick rubbed the back of his neck. It was true. Not that he needed it said. “Thanks, buddy, that’s real comforting advice.”
“Keep her safe. D
o whatever it takes. That’s my advice. The other was a comment on your lack thereof, Kincaid. Is she yours?”
Rick stared at Hunter, curled on her side into a small bundle of pain. Her face was flushed and she’d thrown the covers off again. His heart grew tight and his throat followed along. Is she mine?
“You act like it,” Jack insisted. “Let me explain, since you seem too dense to catch on. It’s like you can’t imagine a damn day without her. Like it doesn’t matter if you’re mortal or immortal, no one and nothing is going to harm her again, right?”
Jack’s words vibrated in his head like a damn tuning fork, emphasizing everything Kincaid felt to the bottom of his soul. Hunter fit him. She was essential in a way he wasn’t good at coping with. He could see that now, but he’d be damned if he’d lose her to anything—bullet, knife, immortality…
“Yeah, she’s mine. She might not see it that way—”
“She won’t.” Jack laughed. “You’re just going to have to out stubborn her.”
Out stubborn her? He’d done that every step of the way with her so far, so he had that covered. “If she survives.”
“You think she should come in, let us protect her—”
“No,” he said quickly. “She doesn’t leave my side again.”
Jack laughed again. “Right, I get that. Just try harder to keep her in one piece, would you? Trouble is pissed off and kicking shit, mainly Torque, for allowing you as lead on this, but she feels a hell of a lot of love for that girl. Don’t let her out of your sight if that’s what’s happening when she’s gone. And if it’s happening on your watch, don’t let it happen again. What the hell did you survive the desert for, if not for this?”
The desert.
He moved over and brushed Hunter’s hair off her face. Heaven. If only he could keep her safe. He took Jack’s dressing-down because he deserved it and Hunter hadn’t done it. She should have. He was the man here.
“I’ll get her back on her feet and we’ll head out. I gave Torment some bottles I want you and Trouble to analyze—or Torque, whoever—but keep in mind that it shifted a man to a monster. So treat it with kid gloves or one of those quarantine rooms.”
“Yeah, we heard. It seems like there’s a lot more there we never knew about, too.”
“There is. That’s why we go back.”
“Good. Clear her name, Kincaid. Then you can rest easier. I think you’re on the right trail. Things are brewing, that always means something is about to happen.”
“Just so it’s a good something, not a bad, or worse, than this something happening.”
“True.”
All of a sudden he remembered something else. “Hey, this might not be important, but Hunter…she’s not fifty-six, she’s twenty-six.”
“Every detail is important,” Jack grumbled then sighed. “I’ll let Trouble know. She won’t like it, but maybe it will help, her being so young.”
“Good. That’s good,” Kincaid said, already wanting to hold her again. “Later, and give Grayson what he needs to know,” he added. “I’ll check in when we head out.”
“Got it. Watch your back.”
“Right,” he muttered then hung up.
Hunter watched his back. Why didn’t I have Hunter’s?
A team was only as good as each member. They were a team of two. He’d fucked up. That wasn’t happening again.
Chapter Nineteen
Hunter woke slowly, feeling relaxed and warm. Rick.
He’d showered, she could tell by the scent of his warm, clean skin, but she didn’t remember him coming back in the bedroom. He’d taken her boots and socks off, too. She was half surprised he’d left her pants on. He probably only had because it would have jarred her to take them off.
She shifted and her stomach pulled a bit painfully, but wasn’t horrible, more as if she’d done too many sit-ups. She even felt oddly okay, not nearly as…tender. The wrappings he’d put around her helped, but she also felt as if she’d slept for a solid eight hours or more.
“You feeling better?” he rumbled, sounding sleepy.
She tensed, but the action didn’t hurt. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Stomach healed?”
“No,” she admitted with a laugh at his eager question. “Not healed, but better.” She rolled onto her back.
Instantly she regretted it.
If Rick Kincaid was sexy awake and in his T-shirt, half naked—he was deadly bare chested. His hair was flattened on one side from sleep, and he needed to shave, but he was so handsome she wanted to jump him.
He sighed and nodded. He was resting his head on his palm, as if he’d been leaning over her starring at her like that for a while.
“How long did I sleep?”
“Not sure I should tell you.”
“What? Why?” she asked, frowning. He didn’t respond so she shook his arm.
“Four days, five nights.”
Four days? Five nights?
He grinned. “I’ve been watching you. You sleep like a kitten.”
“A kitten?”
“Yeah, you want as close to me as you can get and push back for more if I move even a hairs breadth away.”
“I don’t.”
“You seriously have never slept with someone before?”
“No,” she said, not sure if that would get her teased more or not. His grin grew, but he didn’t say anything. “Do you? Sleep with people, I mean…women?”
“Nah, I don’t usually bunk with women, if that’s what you’re asking. But I like you, right here. You don’t snore, and you smell pretty good.”
“Kincaid.” She knew he was teasing, but it was hard not to smile.
“What?”
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“You know, as much as you seem to think otherwise, my momma did raise me to be a gentleman. You’re not only sporting a gunshot but a knife wound now. So, I’m thinking I am going to have to wait a long time until you can meet Little Rickie properly.”
“What if I am feeling better?”
He contemplated that for so long she wondered what he was really thinking about. His eyes usually gave away the tease before it slipped out his sexy lips. But his face sometimes could hide everything. Last night he’d been scared—or five nights ago—and she’d known it. She’d scared him. The knife, the screaming, her trying to leave… He’d been white as a ghost and clearly scared.
But of what?
“You’re hot enough to drive me nuts. Are you sure you’re not better?”
Instead of answering, she stroked along his warm chest to grip his neck. She exerted a tiny bit of pressure. He came willingly. She also tested her stomach by tensing it. It was tight, but not painful. Almost as if she’d taken a few hits in the practice arena with Victor. But he’d never hit her so hard it’d felt as if her insides were going to come spilling out.
“Not gonna hurt you, just maybe make the pain go away for a bit, huh?” he said huskily.
She didn’t bother telling him there really was no pain because already her body seemed to feel as good as new. And better, she was more than ready to meet Little Rickie properly.
Rick settled next to her and shifted her leg over his. “Good?”
“Good,” she agreed, and brought his lips to hers with a hunger she wasn’t going to quench anytime soon. Kincaid filled her senses as she licked along his mouth, and his minty taste exploded, making her ache for more. He gave it to her with firm, solid strokes of his tongue along hers in mockery of what she really longed for—him fucking her silly.
But he was careful, so gentle it eased her into simply enjoying every second of what he was doing. He carefully caressed her back to her butt and thrilled her by pulling her hips closer. Little Rickie was there, eager and so big and thick she moaned into his mouth.
She couldn’t stand it. It was as if all her life she’d never taken a chance on what she wanted, and now, here this man was, in a bed, with her, and so hot for her he was trembling. She f
elt the same. She smoothed her hands down his warm skin to the roundness of his ass.
Naked. He’s completely naked. The sneak.
The thought evaporated as he dove into her mouth, kissing her so passionately she almost missed that he was peeling her stretch pants down. She willingly lifted her hips to help, already burning up. Her wound protested just a bit at the odd move, but not as much as she wanted to get naked with Rick Kincaid.
“Careful. Let me,” he urged.
His voice had gone deeper, which seemed to travel like a tuning fork down her stomach and zip back to tighten her nipples. Her breasts already ached, and she hoped he’d do something about that soon.
Instead, he thrilled her by sliding his cock right along her pussy as soon as he got her pants down and off. One big hand slid her closer, and she got her first full feel of how big Little Rickie was—and sizzling hot.
With some serious skill, he thrust again, pressing against her clit so perfectly little microbursts tingled up and down her spine. It was so shocking, she froze. The heavy weight was glorious. , She broke the kiss and brushed her lips along his jaw to his ear and whispered, “What are you waiting for, Kincaid? Fuck me.”
He groaned as if he was going to come on the spot. His hands tightened on her butt and he ground down on her roughly. A wave of shivers tightened her clit the way it did right before she brought herself to climax.
“Can’t do that, baby.” He sounded desperate. “You were stabbed. That’s a deep—”
“Oh yes. Yes, we can,” she coaxed, not about to stop this now. If he could bring her this close to an orgasm without fucking her. She took matters in her own hands—or body.
She rubbed her pussy over his erection, wetting the thick dick to prove how much she really, really could take him. Rick had a very large cock, but she had no doubt he’d feel amazing. She wanted this so badly, there was no way she was taking a no.
“I hurt here more,” she added, sensing he was holding on by a thread.
“Hunter,” he said breathlessly, “that’s not helping. Holy shit, that’s not helping. You’ve been sleeping for days, hurting, and now you want me to make love to you?”