“What?” he gasped, half convinced he must have hit his head somehow and was imagining this. “What are you doing?”
“You’re always touching me,” she panted, kneeing his thighs apart as she tugged down his boxers and jeans. Wrapping her hand around the thick base of his cock, she looked up at him through her lashes, her voice even huskier as she said, “You’re always making it about me. About my pleasure. But this time, it’s going to be about you, Eli.”
Bracing his booted feet on the bed, he reached down and shoved his boxers and jeans a little lower, his face so friggin’ hot he knew he had to have turned bright red. But he had Carla’s feminine little hand wrapped as far as it could go around his massive hard-on, her lush mouth hovering over the slick, swollen head, and he was pretty sure his heart was getting ready to pound its way right out of his chest. He looked too brutal to ever go inside that perfect mouth of hers—but then, he had a strong feeling he was going to look right there, too. As if it was where he belonged, his body close to hers, letting her do whatever the hell she wanted to him.
Then she took him between her lips, inside the moist heat of her mouth, stroking him with her tongue, and the sensation was so shockingly intense that he shouted.
Needing to see every carnal, mind-shattering second of this, Eli let his knees fall open and braced himself on an elbow, his other hand gripping her hair and lifting it away so that he had an unobstructed view of her going down on him. Of that hot little mouth hungrily sucking him deep, damn near sending his eyes rolling back in his head.
“I’m going over,” he growled just moments later, warning her, but she didn’t move away. Moaning around his aching shaft, she sucked him even deeper, and he fell back to the bed with another guttural, visceral shout on his lips as the climax ripped through him, so explosive his back literally arched off the mattress. He shoved his fingers into her soft hair, holding her to him as it went on and on, the sexy sounds she made only driving him further over the edge, until he was shaking and cursing and willing to bet everything he owned on the fact that she’d almost killed him with the pleasure.
Son of a bitch, he thought, throwing his arm over his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. If he’d come that fast when he was younger, he’d have been embarrassed as hell. But this was Carla, the woman who turned him inside out, who turned him on like no other had ever even come close to doing, and he figured he was lucky he’d actually lasted as long as he had.
While he lay there trying to make sure he wasn’t in the middle of a heart attack, she pulled her head back, releasing him from the hot, wet suction of her mouth, and rested her forehead against his lower abdomen. Her body shook with a fine vibration, her shoulders lifting and falling with her rapid breaths.
“Carla, that was unreal. I didn’t even know it was possible to come that hard. Or that it could feel that friggin’ incredible.”
He felt a smile curl her lips. “That’s because I lo—”
She instantly froze, whatever she’d been about to say choked off before he could catch it, her breaths coming so quickly he worried she was going to hyperventilate.
“Rey?”
“I...I need to go,” she whispered, the soft words unsteady as she scrambled off the side of the bed.
“What?” He knew he sounded out of it, but he was still groggy as hell from the violence of his release. “What are you talking about?”
Pushing her hair back from her face, she turned toward the door. “I’m sorry, but I just realized that Wyatt’s, um, waiting for me. He said he needed to talk to me.”
“Wait!” he growled, jerking into a sitting position. “Jesus, Carla, just stop for a second and look at me!”
She whipped her head to the side as she flicked open the lock on the door, glancing at him over her shoulder, and he felt like he’d been punched in the gut.
He could see the fear on her beautiful face as clearly as if it’d been lit up like a neon sign.
“Damn it, don’t do this,” he choked out. “Don’t run out on me again.”
“I’ve never run out on you,” she argued, twisting the handle. “I might have asked you to stop, or to leave, but I’ve never run away. And I’m not running now. I just...I have...I have to go,” she said in a carefully controlled tone, before hurrying out of the room.
By the time he’d yanked his jeans over his hips and made it onto the front porch, she was already halfway across the Alley. He ran after her, not caring what he looked like—just a crazy half-dressed man with wild hair who was cursing a blue streak. But he forced himself to stop when she ran inside Elise and Wyatt’s cabin, knowing damn well they were at home. He could see the colored lights from their TV flashing across the living room window. Yeah, he could force his way inside, but where was that going to get him? In an argument with Wyatt? The usually easygoing Runner had already made it perfectly clear how protective he was when it came to the woman he thought of as a sister. The only person who meant more to him was Eli’s own sister, and he scowled, not wanting to make this situation any more difficult for Elise.
Shit. He would have to get to Carla another way. Maybe wait until everyone went to sleep that night and sneak in through her bedroom window, the way he’d considered doing before. But what if Wyatt set an alarm? He didn’t care if he made a jackass of himself by setting it off, but Carla would probably want to kill him if he ended up putting everyone in a panic.
Figuring he’d just keep calling her cell phone until she picked up, he turned and headed back to his cabin. Just as he was about to climb the porch steps, he caught the raised voices coming from the side of the cabin, and went back down to take a look and make sure everything was okay. But the instant he walked around the corner, he realized it was the Irishman and the little witch who seemed to be driving the guy crazy.
“You go off on a walk with that guy again, Sayre, and there won’t be enough of him left to bury,” the Runner was snarling in a low voice, the rough words vibrating with fury.
“Why are you doing this?” she hissed, sounding on the verge of tears. “What the hell is it to you who I go out with?”
“He’s got a reputation. All he’s interested in is getting between your legs.”
Eli didn’t know who they were talking about, but he hoped to God it wasn’t one of his guys. The last thing they needed was trouble with any of the Runners—especially this one.
“Hah!” she shouted, stomping her foot against the grass. “That sounds like you and pretty much every woman you ever come across!”
“Don’t,” Hennessey growled, grabbing her by her upper arms. “This isn’t about me. It’s about—”
“Oh, just shut up,” she snapped, cutting him off as she jerked away from him. “And stay away from me, Cian. I mean it. I’m tired of this stupid mind game you keep playing. You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to want me, either? It’s sick! Just leave me alone!”
She stormed off around the back of the neighboring cabin, and the Runner stared after her, his big hands fisted at his sides. He looked like a man who was having to physically restrain himself from doing something that he knew he shouldn’t, and then he suddenly turned around, stalking forward with his head down, while a guttural string of curses fell from his lips.
“You’ve got a problem on your hands with that one,” Eli said, before the guy could mow him down.
Drawing to a stop, Cian’s head shot up, his grim expression twisting into an even darker scowl. “And you don’t?” he muttered, obviously talking about Carla.
Scrubbing his jaw, he said, “Reyes is just being stubborn.”
The Runner slowly arched one of his ebony brows. “Is that what you call a woman willing to risk her life to end her bond with you?”
He flinched at those softly spoken words, feeling as if he’d just been kicked in the stomach. “What did you say?”
Pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, the Irishman took one out as he murmured, “There aren’t many secrets here in th
e Alley, Drake. You’d do well to remember that.”
Eli took an aggressive step forward, his hands curling into fists. “Why the hell did you say she was willing to risk her life?”
Lighting his cigarette, Cian took a long drag, then slowly exhaled as he locked his shuttered gaze with Eli’s. “You know how our world works,” he said in a low, lilting rasp. “How nature works. One rarely gets something for nothing. There’s always a risk, and some are greater than others. What matters is what we’re willing to gamble with to get what we want.”
“Are you telling me her life would be in danger if Jillian breaks the bond?” he growled, feeling a muscle begin to pulse at the side of his jaw.
Cian slid him a chilling look. “I’m saying it might damn well kill her.”
He swallowed as he locked his jaw, thinking Christ. Oh, Christ. How desperate must Carla be if she was willing to take that kind of risk?
As desperate as my mother was?
He flinched again, that particular thought striking his body like a physical blow. It was that jarring and painful. He wanted so badly to quiet the voices in his head, but it was impossible to stop the destructive train of his thoughts. Because if she was willing to go that far, was there anything he could do, anything at all he could say, that would ever get through to her?
Wasn’t that what kept me away from her these past months? The fear that she’d already scarred me from her heart?
Damn it, he needed out of this place. And he needed a bottle.
Turning away from the Irishman, Eli figured it was time that he finally made his way back home.
Chapter 11
Twenty-four hours later, Eli still hadn’t returned from wherever he’d run off to. After their argument, Carla had stood at the window in Wyatt and Elise’s guest room and watched him drive one of the mercs’ big black trucks out of the Alley. And he hadn’t been back since.
I should be relieved. It’s what I wanted.
True. The only problem was that relief was the last thing she was feeling.
She hadn’t wanted to run out on him, after sharing something so incredible, but she’d panicked when the word “love” had almost slipped from her lips. She might have finally come to terms with the fact that she was madly, desperately in love with him, but that didn’t mean she was ready to tell him. Just because he’d said the words to her didn’t mean it was smart to say them back. Not until she understood why he’d said them...and was sure of his feelings.
Because she really did fear that it might have more to do with the bond than it did with his heart.
But what about the things he said about his mom and his dad and how he felt about me?
Then again, am I just meant to forget that he supposedly decided to leave me behind for my own good, without even giving me the choice? Without even talking to me about it or telling me goodbye?
Damn it, she didn’t know how to process everything that was churning round and round in her head, and the result was a cracking headache that she hadn’t been able to shake for hours now. She wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week, the session she’d worked with Wyatt that day on the training fields making her as physically exhausted as she was mentally, but she was due over at Jillian’s in twenty minutes for dinner, and she still needed to freshen up. So a nap was unfortunately not in the picture.
Fifteen minutes later, she’d managed to grab a quick shower, throw on a pair of leather sandals, clean jeans, and a slouchy gray top, as well as put on a little blush and lip gloss. Wyatt and Elise were over at her cabin, having dinner with the women who were living there at the moment, so she pulled her keys from her pocket as she stepped out onto the porch, intending to lock the door behind her. But she froze the minute she looked up and realized she wasn’t alone.
They were all there, the Runners and their mates, standing around the front of the cabin, watching her with careful gazes, as if this was some kind of intervention. A wild burst of laughter almost rumbled up with that thought, and she wondered when her life had become like a crazy TV sitcom.
“Did I suddenly become insanely popular,” she murmured, arching her brows, “or did you guys need something?”
Eric climbed up the porch steps, his handsome face set in a chilling expression of anger. “Go. Get. Him,” he said in a low, guttural voice. “Now.”
“What?”
“Eli went up to Shadow Peak yesterday, and spent the night at my place, where he apparently decided it was a good idea to get shit-faced. I want you to get your ass up there and bring him back.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she could feel her own temper simmering at his tone. “Why me?”
“Because you’re the one who put him there,” Eric growled, and she was a little surprised that no one, not even Wyatt, took exception to the Runner’s tone. Jesus, did they all blame her? Were they all on Eli’s side?
Crossing her arms over her chest, she said, “You can’t put this on me, Eric. That isn’t fair.”
“Why shouldn’t I? He’s done nothing but follow you around since he got back, trying to get you to give him the time of day, and all you do is make him feel like shit. Accuse him of stuff he hasn’t even done. If I thought there was a chance in hell he could find someone else, I’d tell him to get out there and do it. But he’s hung up on you, because the two of you friggin’ belong with each other. So fix it and get him back down here!”
“Eric,” his wife murmured, sounding concerned.
“Not now, Chelse. I’ve been patient, but this is getting ridiculous.” He got right in Carla’s face, and lowered his voice. “I watched him go through shit with my old man while growing up, doing everything he could to keep that bastard happy, never getting anything back for it. I won’t watch him go through the same thing with you.”
She flinched, reeling on the inside as Eric’s harsh words worked their way through her system. Was he seriously comparing her to their crazy psycho father? What the hell?
And why was she even bothering to argue with him about this when she actually wanted to go up to town and check on Eli? She’d have been lying if she’d said she wasn’t worried about him. But then, she was also worried about what she might find when she got there.
“Are you sure he doesn’t have company?”
Eric gave her a stunned look, then laughed. Shaking his head, he said, “God, I wish I could tell you that he had a woman with him. It would serve you right, Reyes. But he’s at my place, and he’s alone.”
She’d known that Eric still had his house up in Shadow Peak, though he and Chelsea never stayed there. When she’d asked Elise about it, his sister had said that the couple was thinking of selling the house once things had settled down. But this was hardly the time to be worrying about real estate.
Since Carla was already dressed and had her keys with her, she left Eric and the others standing around the cabin after murmuring a few words to them and headed straight for her car. The short drive to Shadow Peak took forever, thanks to the security checkpoints she had to go through. She knew it was just her imagination, but she felt like she was being judged by every single person she came into contact with, as if she were walking around with a scarlet RB on her forehead that apparently stood for Raving Bitch. It hardly seemed fair, seeing as how none of these Lycans knew the full story, but such was the nature of gossip.
She was familiar with where Eric lived, and was parking on the curb in front of the attractive two-story just a few minutes after reaching the town. Her gaze flicked to where the black truck was parked in the driveway as she turned off the engine, telling her Eli was definitely there. Curling her hands around the steering wheel, she lowered her head, banging her forehead against the leather wheel, then stopped and raised her head again, looking around. There were so many scouts posted now, there was no telling who was watching her from the thickening darkness. Were they waiting to see if he slammed the door in her face? At the moment, she was feeling a bit as if it might be deserved, which made her scowl.
&n
bsp; Forcing herself out of the car, she shut the door and headed up to the house, climbing the porch steps and then knocking on the door. The powerful, smoky scent of whiskey was the first thing that hit her nose when he ripped the door open, followed immediately by the richer, deeper scent that was completely his. A heady, erotic blend of soap and salt and the wild outdoors. Wearing nothing more than a faded pair of jeans, he stared down at her through hooded eyes that were thankfully focused, despite the scent of the alcohol. His jaw worked a few times, and then he muttered, “What are you doing here, Reyes?”
“Thanks to your brother,” she murmured, “I’ve been sent to collect you.”
“Ah. Of course you have. God knows you wouldn’t have come after me on your own.” He turned and headed back into the living room, leaving her to walk in and shut the door herself.
After glancing at the disheveled room, the coffee table littered with bottles and a blanket hanging halfway off the sofa, she looked at him and arched one of her brows. “Been having fun up here?”
He slid her a shuttered look as he sat on the arm of the sofa, his muscular arms folded over his broad, beautiful chest, the golden skin gleaming beneath the soft glow of the track lighting. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” he replied, his tone flat. “To have something that would give you even more of a reason to hate me.”
She stiffened, something in his tone setting her even further on edge. “I don’t hate you, Eli.”
“Sure you don’t,” he drawled with a mocking smile on his sensual lips.
She rubbed her forehead, wondering what his problem was. As well as hers. She couldn’t seem to get close to him without saying whatever she could think of to piss him off.
“Believe it or not, Rey, no one’s been here but me.” At the look she cut him, he said, “Use your nose, little wolf. Come over here and sniff the blanket I’ve been sleeping under. Sniff any friggin’ surface in the house you want. You won’t find what you’re looking for.”
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