“I’ll just be a minute and then I’ll find you something else to change into.” For reasons he didn’t want to think about, Tristan gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting her go.
“Cale is going to kick your ass,” Briana hissed, spinning on her heel and striding farther down the hall.
“It’s complicated.” And getting more complex by the hour. No wonder the dagger hadn’t been that difficult to acquire. Fate was keeping tonight as her ace in the hole.
“He is so going to kick your ass. Sex is never complicated for you, so if that’s your first line of defense, I’d seriously reconsider using that when Cale gets home.”
“We didn’t have sex.”
Briana scoffed.
“We’ve got a bigger problem than what happened when I was a little…high,” he settled on, though he knew the drugs had merely paved the way for what he’d been thinking about doing to Kennedy for months.
“High? Don’t tell me you were diddling with an enchantress?” Briana didn’t bother to veil her distaste for the Lady of the Lake’s wanton offspring.
He shook his head. “Kennedy was marked by a wraith.”
—
For the hundredth time, Kennedy stared at the mystery mark on her hand. The drive to Cale’s had given her plenty of time to mentally run through her night and pin down when someone might have had an opportunity to…what? Rub a temporary tattoo on her skin without her being aware of it or noticing it hours ago?
Marks didn’t magically appear on a person’s body, and yet she had no explanation for the creepy spider-web design. At the very least she would have noticed it when she’d fiddled with the wires and hoses under the hood of her car. Then Tristan had shown up, but he hadn’t touched her hand.
And everything had really gone to hell after that.
She leaned back against the plush beige sofa and closed her eyes. Her heart no longer threatened to punch straight through her chest, but she couldn’t stop her stomach from twisting her insides into knots.
Nothing made sense. Not her piece-of-crap car dead on the side of the road, the darts, the hallucination, the dogs vanishing without a sound. And then there was Tristan. Cool and remote when offering her a ride. Hot and intense when she’d been in his lap and headed for the best orgasm of her life.
She wasn’t even going to wonder why his voice had sounded more animal than human or think about the feral glow she’d glimpsed in his eyes outside before he’d covered her body with his. If she did, she might lose the tenuous grip she had on her mind.
Holding up her hand, her gaze traced the web’s intricate pattern. Tristan knew something. More than once he’d avoided answering her in the car. While she’d like to think he chose not to comment because he didn’t want to outright question her mental stability, her gut said otherwise. Life had taught her to scrutinize the telling silence more than any excuse and explanation, and Tristan hadn’t said much at all.
The only thing more surreal than the events of the last hour was the possibility Tristan had information that might begin to explain any of it. She would give him another minute with his sister and then he really needed to start talking. Starting with his reason for coming here instead of going to the police.
“How are you doing?”
Kennedy forced her eyes open, vaguely annoyed to see that familiar, distant expression on his face. He didn’t move from the doorway, which she should have been grateful for considering how much his presence distracted her on a completely physical level.
She had never been one to be led around by her libido, but twice tonight she’d let herself be distracted by him. First in the car and then lying on the front lawn for Christ’s sake. Even now she tried not to think about the tease of his mouth on her throat.
A knowing grin ghosted across his lips, and she remembered he’d asked her something.
“Like I’ve worked back-to-back double shifts during Ava-fest.” Pendragon’s week- long anniversary party was nothing short of exhausting and nearly as wild as tonight had been.
“Cale will hopefully be home shortly.”
“And he’ll make it all better, will he?”
Straightening, Tristan crossed the room. He settled on the arm of an overstuffed chair. She couldn’t help but notice it was also the furthest piece of furniture from her, short of the dainty bench that probably wouldn’t have held his crossed legs, much less the rest of him.
“Cale’s the problem solver of the family.”
“And you’re the troublemaker.”
A glint of wickedness brightened his eyes. “How do you figure?”
“Seems like I’ve been in trouble since you walked into the bar tonight.”
He averted his face, and she cringed.
“That didn’t come out right.” She sighed. “Just tell me this kind of stuff isn’t the norm for you.”
“I can admit that coming to with an attractive woman curled up in my lap doesn’t happen nearly enough.”
“I was trying to get your cell phone out of your pocket.” She frowned, realizing he hadn’t actually answered her question. The evasion felt important, but her mind was too overwhelmed. The more she tried to align the pieces, the more her thoughts ran together.
He frowned. “What’s wrong?” He moved to the sofa, the cushion dipping under his added weight.
She studied him from beneath heavy lids. The concern in his voice didn’t match his stiff shoulders or the way he seemed careful not to get too close. He fisted one hand in his lap, his gaze sweeping over her.
“I shouldn’t be so tired, should I?” Shouldn’t she be pacing the room, pressing him for answers to the questions that hovered on the edge of her mind?
“You’ve had a busy night.” His attention slipped to the mark on her hand.
“What does it mean?”
“More trouble,” he answered, smiling crookedly.
Kennedy suspected the playful grin was supposed to soften the serious response. Too bad those gorgeous blue eyes of his didn’t sell her on the whole there’s-nothing-to-worry-about package.
No doubt sensing more questions, Tristan stood, offering his hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up and maybe we can figure this out.”
We? Did that mean he wasn’t planning on ditching her the second Cale showed up? He’d certainly left her with that impression moments ago. She glanced down. “It’s the grass-stained knees, huh?”
Another slow smile, one that succeeded at catching her in the stomach. His hand closed around hers, gently pulling her up. She brushed against him, and he went completely still.
She tipped her face up. “You okay?” Because she wasn’t. Not when they were this close. For a moment her exhaustion and disbelief faded, replaced by a slow burn that tunneled through her middle.
His grip on her hand tightened, and he closed his eyes.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth, the memory of his lips sliding across hers drenching her mind until she leaned up and brushed his jaw. The coarse layer of stubble rasped her cheek and a needy whimper stuck in her throat.
Feeling the weight of his stare, she tilted her head back, unprepared for the dangerous glimmer shining in his eyes. She scrambled back a step, as surprised at the warning imprinted on his face as she was by the wave of lust that caught her hard in the belly.
“Tristan?” Had some secondary side effect of the drugs kicked in? Or now that the drugs were clearing out of his system had he remembered how much he disliked her?
“This way.” His granite tone left no room for argument or questions as he led her away.
The maze of halls and rooms blurred past as she watched him from the corner of her eye. He clenched his jaw, his expression strained as he strode through the mansion, his usual confident stroll abandoned in favor of a clipped pace she worked hard to keep up with.
He moved through an open door, closing it soundly behind them. Releasing her hand, Tristan passed through the main room of a small suite. Though the main room boasted all the necessary furniture—so
fa, chair, desk, flat-screen television—it lacked the personal touches that would make the room feel really lived in.
When he didn’t reappear, she trailed into the next room. A dresser, bedside table and king-sized bed filled most of the space. Light spilled from yet another doorway and from the sound of water running, she assumed it led to a bathroom.
He poked his head out, motioning her inside. The tight quarters made her instantly aware of how close he stood, and she tried to pay attention to the clean clothes and towels he pointed out. Her knees shook a little, but she could no longer be sure if it was triggered by some kind of delayed shock or his proximity. The longer she spent in his presence, the faster her blood pushed through her veins.
“I’ll give you some privacy.”
“Wait.” She grabbed his hand, and he hissed out a breath. Ignoring the protest that rose to his lips, she pushed him toward the tub. “Sit.”
Wary, he lowered to the porcelain edge, watching her as she ran warm water, then wet a face cloth folded neatly next to the taps. She wrung out the cloth and turned to face him.
Still as a statue, he leaned away from her. “What are you doing?”
Without answering she dabbed at the dried blood on his face.
“You don’t need…” The rest of his objection was lost to a deep sigh. His shoulders relaxed and he leaned into her palm, his eyes drifting shut as she tipped his face up to clean the scrape.
“I’m not hurting you, am I?” She gently probed at the worst of dried blood.
“Not like you think.”
Her gaze slid down to meet his. Closing his fingers around her hand, he took the cloth from her. She didn’t look away as he set it on the vanity behind her, didn’t breathe as he drew her fingers down his cheek to his jaw.
A hundred questions rose in her mind but quickly felt distant and unimportant compared to the desire licking through her body.
Tristan gripped her waist, tugging her closer. Close enough to nuzzle her stomach, his warm breath seeping straight through her thin T-shirt. For a long moment, neither of them moved. She threaded her fingers through the ends of his hair, afraid to ask what he was doing.
Whatever it was, she wanted more. She’d been wanting more for months and the short distraction in the car had only flamed her hunger for him.
Slowly, he pushed her shirt up and pressed his lips to her sensitized flesh. Kennedy shuddered, her breath catching in her throat as he trailed lower. The hot sweep of his tongue circled her navel and he murmured something she didn’t understand. Then his fingers tugged at the snap on her shorts.
The sound of her zipper giving way made the soft ache between her thighs pulse fiercely. This time she understood him when he whispered her name, his voice rough, seductive. Her shorts slid down an inch, and he opened his mouth on her skin. The wet heat sent a shockwave of need tearing through her.
Tristan repeated the decadent exploration, laving each inch of her he exposed until her shorts were pooled around her feet. Left in her T-shirt and lacy thong underwear, she clung to his shoulders, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than she had all night.
“Very nice.” He traced the edge of her thong, his finger rubbing up the middle of her cleft.
She bit down to soften her moan of pleasure, already thinking about his fingers sliding along her damp sex. The urge to squeeze her legs together and catch his hand between them made the back of her knees tremble.
He raised his head, his blue eyes glittering possessively as they locked on hers. He didn’t ask for her permission as he hooked his fingers on either side of her underwear and tugged them off.
“I have to know,” he growled, teasing his thumb through her short curls.
Only a whisper of a touch and she rocked up on her heels. “Know what?” Breathless, she stared down at him.
“How good you taste.” His thumb slid up her damp seam, parting her for his mouth. “Already wet for me,” he mused, satisfaction flashing across his face. “Have I made you wet before, Kennedy?”
“Yes.” Even if it hadn’t been true, she would have lied to make sure he didn’t stop the lazy caress of his fingers. Every torturous brush closer to her clit sizzled along her nerve endings.
“Good.” Two fingers pushed at her snug opening, and she cried out when he buried them inside her.
A moment later she felt his hot breath tease across her sex, and then he pressed his mouth against her. She wasn’t sure who groaned the loudest. The slow, wicked strokes of his tongue made it impossible to concentrate on anything but the curls of release that uncoiled deep in her womb.
Raking her fingers over his shoulders, she arched into his greedy mouth. “Harder,” she pleaded, unable to stop herself from rocking against him.
His lips closed around her clit, his tongue swirling around the aching knot.
“Yes, more.” God, she needed more. Her pulse raced and a steady warmth streaked across her skin, drawing her nipples into hard points. She lifted one hand to her stomach, sliding beneath her shirt until she grazed the underside of her breast.
“Let me see,” he demanded.
Caught on the edge of release, she found no reason to deny him, and tugged impatiently at both her shirt and bra. She sighed as the restrictive fabric gave way, moaned when she drew her thumb across the tight peak.
A growl of appreciation burst from Tristan’s throat. He pumped his fingers into her drenched sex harder, matching the ruthless rhythm with his mouth. The quick teasing licks lengthened, the sweet suction deepened.
Kennedy buried her fingers in his hair, holding him to her as she came. Wave after searing wave rippled through her, dragging her under. She wasn’t aware her legs had given up on keeping her upright until she slid to the floor.
Tristan’s arms locked around her, trapping her against him. He pushed her hair back from her face, his finger delicately tracing her jawline. The look of raw need imprinted on his face made it impossible to slow her thundering heart. He lowered his head, and Kennedy curled her fingers around his shirt in heady anticipation.
His stubbled cheek grazed her skin as he slid down to meet her mouth. He hesitated, his lips drifting across hers. The feather-light contact made her whole body clench, and when she thought she couldn’t take any more of his teasing, his tongue pushed between her lips, sweeping fast and deep.
Steadier, she kneeled between his parted legs, meeting the hungry thrust of his tongue with her own. Kissing him in the car had been slow and hot. This time his mouth scorched her, conquered her. She tasted herself in his kiss, and it ignited a fresh wave of lust that settled between her thighs.
“Need you,” he gritted out, a noticeable tension tightening his limbs.
Fisting her hair in his hand, he moved down her neck, nipping a little harder with his teeth. He followed each scrape with a lap of his tongue, curving around her shoulder and lower…
She whimpered when he abruptly stopped. Then his hands gripped her shoulders and he jerked her around.
“Where did you get this?” His thumb circled the tattoo at the base of her spine, the accusation in his voice icing her bloodstream.
“From a tattoo parlor,” she offered, glancing over her shoulder at him.
“When? Why?”
She frowned at the clipped questions. Having seen the kind of women who often snagged his attention, she couldn’t imagine he found the tattoo distasteful. “My twenty-first birthday. Had a little too much to drink and discovered the evidence of my wild night the next morning.”
His gaze dropped to her tattoo one more time, and then he stood. He drilled his hands through his hair. With his back turned to her, she snagged her shorts and panties from the floor and hastily stepped into them. She’d adjusted her bra and shirt when he finally glanced at her, his expression unreadable.
“I’m going to see if Cale is back yet. Feel free to have a shower if you’re up for it. Then we’ll talk.”
He vanished through the door before she could object. She followed him ba
ck into the main room, but found it empty. The hall too. The man clearly excelled at making a quick exit.
Given their history, or lack thereof, she shouldn’t have been surprised by his abrupt departure. Still, she understood why his vanishing act stung a little, but what she couldn’t wrap her head around was why she suddenly felt more alone than she had in a very long time.
Not the least bit eager to analyze that on top of everything else, she turned on the shower and stripped down. Once beneath the hot spray, she closed her eyes, almost grateful to be alone. She needed some time to unravel her thoughts about the rest of the night without his proximity screwing with her hormones. When they shared the same space she struggled to concentrate, and when he actually put his hands on her…
Before she got herself worked up again—and after that kind of orgasm it wouldn’t take much—she pushed Tristan out of her head. After rinsing shampoo from her hair, she found herself studying the mark on her hand. The longer she stared at the black curves and angles, the more exhaustion pulled at her.
Keeping the shower brief, and still no closer to figuring out how she ended up here instead of talking Tristan into taking her to the police, she toweled off quickly. She dragged on the pair of borrowed drawstring shorts and oversized T-shirt. Immediately, Tristan’s scent filled her head and her nipples hardened as the fabric settled against her breasts.
Kennedy shook her head, clinging to her determination to get some real answers. She wouldn’t allow Tristan or anyone to sweep her concerns under the proverbial rug. She wouldn’t let herself settle for anything but the entire truth, a promise she’d made to herself after her mother’s death.
Insanely attracted to Tristan or not, she’d get some answers. And he’d need a lot more than his sister or a pack of vicious dogs to save his ass if he lied to her about any of it.
Satisfied that she had at least one thing worked out in her head, Kennedy scanned the top of the vanity for a comb. Finding nothing, she checked the medicine cabinet. No comb there either.
She closed the cabinet, her hand freezing on the corner of the mirror. Heart in her throat, she lifted her gaze to her reflection.
Primal Hunger: Pendragon Gargoyles, Book 1 Page 4