Before the End (Beyond Series Ultimate Glom Edition)

by Kit Rocha

  When she didn't respond, he rubbed his knuckle along her jawline. A soft brush, but devastating when combined with the serious look in his eyes. "I wanted to be a hero, but there aren't any heroes out here, are there?"

  The tightness in her throat migrated to her chest, and she pulled his hand away from her face. "If this place changes you, it should be because you're waking up. Not because someone else said you were wrong."

  His laugh was tinged with something she'd never heard from him before: darkness. "I woke up all on my own, it just took a while. If it'd been Ace's doing, this apology would have happened a long time ago."

  Yeah, Ace moved fast--when he wanted to.

  Rachel looked away. "Apology accepted."

  Cruz was silent for so long that she might have suspected he'd left, if his presence hadn't prickled over her skin with constant, tantalizing heat. "Do you want me to find someone else to stab my ass?" he asked.

  "That's stupid." She reached for the vial and a syringe. "Turn around."

  She was left staring at the broad, chiseled expanse of his back as his belt clicked, and his pants sagged, dipping lower and lower and dragging her gaze with them.

  His ass was as perfect as the rest of him, of course. She'd seen some beautiful men--the gang was fucking full of them--but something about the way Cruz carried himself elevated that beauty to damn near supernatural levels.

  He had an awareness of his body that spoke of his complete control, as if he never made a move or a sound without meaning to. So when she touched the small of his back to hold him still, his quick, indrawn breath hit her like a rough caress.

  Jesus Christ. She wanted to keep going, see where else she could touch him to elicit more gasps, so she administered the injection and stepped back. "All done."

  Even when he hauled his pants up, they still settled low on his hips, inviting her gaze to linger on the intriguing play of muscle under his skin. "Thank you, Rachel."

  "You're welcome."

  Cruz turned, still fastening his pants, only to freeze when his gaze fell on her. "Hey. You okay?"

  "No." Every time she thought she had her feet under her, something happened to send her spinning again. "I mean, yeah. No worries."

  He stepped close, crowding into her space. He took up too much room, but he didn't touch her. He studied her, his expression impossible to decipher. "Worrying about you is my right, isn't it? That's what the ink means."

  He sounded like Ace, and it pissed her off. "Well, that depends. Are you worrying because you care? Or do you do it so you can say how noble and giving you are, looking out for me when there's no reward?"

  Two steps. He took two fucking steps and had her back against the shelves, his hands on either side of her head, his face hovering over hers. "I've always cared, and that didn't stop just because you decided you were done with me. You can be pissed at Ace for being Ace, but you don't get to pretend you couldn't have me any fucking time you wanted."

  "I'm not done," she ground out. He was too big, too close--too everything. "I was trying not to hurt you."

  He laughed, like she'd said the funniest thing in the world.

  Tears stung her eyes. "I'm glad that I amuse you."

  "Life amuses me," he corrected, but his gaze softened as he cupped her cheek. "He's trying not to hurt you, you're trying not to hurt me, and all I want is to protect you both."

  She couldn't bring herself to move away, so she closed her eyes and spoke past the lump in her throat. "Save it for Ace. He needs it more."

  "Does he?" His thumb brushed her lower lip before pressing hard enough to coax her lips apart.

  She reacted out of instinct. Her tongue touched the rough pad of his thumb, and she opened her eyes in time to see him lowering his mouth to hers.

  He stopped, so close she could feel his heat. "You should tell me to go, because I'm done protecting you from myself."

  Rachel took a deep breath, but all she managed to do was draw in his scent. His breath. It wasn't fair that she still wanted him to kiss her, just plain wanted him, after all that had happened.

  "Ace," she whispered, a warning and a reminder. "You two seem happy together."

  His brow furrowed. "We're not together."

  "Bullshit."

  "We're partners."

  "You're more." Someone else should have had to break it to him, someone without painful ties to both him and Ace. "I see it. So does everyone else."

  His expression didn't change beyond the slightest tightening around his eyes, but she was close enough to sense his sudden tension. "Not everything is about fucking."

  It hurt. With only a few words, he'd managed to belittle so much--her perceptions and jealousy, Ace's affections, and maybe even his own feelings. What it meant to be an O'Kane, and all the ways they could care about one another, ways that could never be reduced to fucking.

  Her throat burned, but she bit back her angry words and gave him ice instead. "You were right. You should go."

  He opened his mouth, but it wasn't his voice she heard. It was Ace's, echoing from just beyond the door. "Cruz, where the fuck are you?"

  Cruz lunged away, but even his reflexes weren't fast enough. He'd barely snatched up his shirt when Ace rounded the corner. "I told Gia we'd pick up her payment..."

  He stopped and stared at Rachel, his gaze tracking over her flushed cheeks, but she knew he hadn't missed Cruz's disarray, either. Shirtless, his belt hanging open--

  It looked bad. But the worst part was feeling like she'd come between them, and this was all her fault.

  Cruz started to speak, but Ace lifted a hand. "I hope she kissed it all better, brother, because we've got twice as many stops tonight with half the men over in Three."

  She'd heard him fake cheerful before, but never with this much manic intensity, as if his life depended on the two of them buying his lighthearted, breezy words.

  She couldn't look at him.

  Chapter Twelve

  With the roads cleared, the trip across the border and into Three took half the time, not to mention half the attention.

  No longer having to dodge debris, Bren guided his motorcycle into the heart of the sector. There, with fewer stone walls to magnify its rumble into an echoing roar, the engine sounded almost quiet. Tranquil, a sharp contrast to the lingering destruction surrounding them. At one time, these streets had housed the factories and shipping warehouses that made Sector Three a power to be reckoned with. Now, crumbling brick and dusty, pitted concrete were giving way to the grass pushing up through the wreckage.

  He pulled to a stop next to the squat building Six had described. "Is this it?"

  "Yeah." She slid from the bike and nodded to the corner. "Around this way."

  Her apartment was underground, straight down two flights of cracked cement steps and hidden behind a padlocked steel door. There were no windows Bren could see, nothing but gloomy shadows and darkness, despite the early hour.

  "Doesn't look like anyone's broken into it," she said, lifting the undamaged padlock. "How good are you at picking locks?"

  The ancient lock in her hand was sturdy but simple. He tugged the small set of picks out of his back pocket and slipped a tension wrench and a small hook free of the case. "It might take me a minute."

  She took the case from him and shifted aside before running a finger over the S-rake pick. "These are really nice. I bet you can get into anything."

  "They come in handy." He turned the tension wrench a little and flicked the hook across the pins inside the lock. "Only three pins."

  He cocked his head as he worked, listening for the telltale clicks as he set one pin, then another. With the final click, he turned the wrench and the lock fell open.

  "Damn." Six took the tools from him and slipped them back in the case. "If you ever get bored with cleaning guns while I watch, you could open locks instead."

  "I'll remember that." Bren slid the lock free, but this door wasn't his to open. "After you?"

  Six drew in a deep breath
, squared her shoulders, and dragged open the creaky steel door.

  Inside was pitch black. Six flicked on the flashlight he'd given her and swung it toward the wall a few steps inside. "If the wires to the solar panels are still in place..." She flipped a circuit breaker, and lights flickered on.

  Christmas lights.

  They were everywhere, tacked to the walls and running across the ceiling, mostly cheap white bulbs mixed with a few strings of color that started to fade in and out as they warmed up. The strings illuminated a snug room just big enough for a mattress piled high with blankets and pillows, a coffee table, a couple of rickety chairs, and a few cluttered shelves.

  "It's silly." Six poked one of the dead bulbs in a string of lights draped by the door. "But they were pretty cool when I was a kid."

  They still were, because they reminded him of her--tiny glows in the darkness, determined but struggling. "I like it."

  "So, this is it." She sat on the edge of the mattress and leaned forward to run a hand along the bottom surface of the coffee table. "I think everything's still here."

  "Doesn't look like it's been ransacked..." His words trailed off as she pulled out a wad of cash bound by tape. "When were you last here?"

  "A couple months before Trent threw me to you guys. I haven't lived here full time in a few years, though. Even after I started running with Trent, I liked knowing I had somewhere to go." She waved the cash. "Somewhere to stash things."

  Someplace safe. "Lex did the same thing in the early days. Drove Dallas nuts."

  She tilted her head and studied him. "Would it drive you nuts? Knowing this place is here?"

  "If you kept it, you mean?" So tempting to give her the easy answer, the one she probably wanted to hear. "A little, but not because you shouldn't have your own space. If you needed it to be away from the O'Kanes."

  After another silent moment, she nudged aside the coffee table and reached for his hand. "Come here for a second."

  It skirted dangerously close to we have to talk. "Shit, what did I do?"

  "Shut up and come here."

  At least she was laughing. Bren dropped to the closest chair and wrapped his fingers around hers. "What is it?"

  She shifted to her knees in front of him, her gaze suddenly intense. "Lex talked to me about joining. I mean, she didn't flat-out offer me ink, but...she asked if I was ready." Six exhaled. "And I told her I was."

  He quelled his reflexive relief and took a deep breath. "Ink is for life, Six. Are you sure you're ready for that?"

  "I don't know," she admitted softly. "I don't think anyone can know. But she wanted me, Bren. And not to sling drinks or give you a friendly place to stick your dick. Lex believes we can be more than some guy's bitch. I still don't get Dallas, but I'll follow her into hell for that."

  She might never understand Dallas, or realize that everything his queen did was because he had her back. But Lex was O'Kane, just as much as Dallas was, and if Six could trust in her...

  That was enough. "Congratulations, sweetness."

  "Yeah?" She lunged upwards, sliding astride his lap fast enough to rock the rickety chair back and threaten a total collapse. "Don't speak too soon. Lex said I could switch from bartending to bouncing, as soon as you think I can handle it."

  He'd have to teach her how to move drunken assholes twice her size with pain instead of leverage, but she'd be good at it. Protective, attentive. Smart. "Sounds right up your alley, if you ask me."

  Her eyes lit up, and she wound her arms around his neck before pressing her forehead to his. "You sure you don't mind sharing your home and your family with me?"

  His. She still thought of it all that way, and it was time for that to end. "Until I took these cuffs, none of it was mine, either. You're a little late to the party, that's all."

  Six laughed, tightened her fingers on the back of his head, and kissed him.

  Slow and soft, so sweet that he felt clumsy for the first time as he wrapped his arms around her waist. It hit him square in the gut--the kiss of a woman opening up, not just to him, but to a world of possibility.

  She caught his lower lip between her teeth, then released him to whisper against the corner of his mouth. "I never brought a boy here, you know. I never brought anyone here. You're the first to see all of me."

  A gift, greater than any control she'd ever given him over her body. "Thank you."

  "Mmm." She kissed her way up his jaw, stopping to feather a kiss over his earlobe. "Wanna screw around? Over the clothes only."

  The tiny caress splintered through him. "No fucking?" he asked lazily.

  She rolled her hips, grinding on his lap in a move worthy of a Broken Circle dancer. "That depends, I guess."

  He had to force his hands to relax, to hold her hips lightly. "On?"

  "How long you can take it." Another roll, and this time it was her teeth on his earlobe, the barest tease as her fingernails pricked his scalp. "How long you can grope and grind and let me touch you before you'll do whatever it takes to get in me?"

  His dick swelled, but shifting beneath her didn't relieve the pressure. It made him harder. "Take off your shirt."

  She lifted her head long enough to grin at him, wild and unrestrained, her eyes dancing. "No," she said, and leaned in to nip at his other ear. Her breath raced across his skin as her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "But you can rip it off."

  Too easy. Bren twisted his hand in the fabric and pulled it up slowly, stopping just before the ribbed cotton slipped off the hard peaks of her nipples.

  She hissed in a breath--and hissed it out when that rubbed the fabric against her breasts. Shuddering, she pressed her next openmouthed kiss to his throat.

  He flicked her nipple through the cotton. "Can't take it?"

  "Whatever," she growled, and closed her teeth on his throat.

  Not hard enough, not yet. Bren urged her hips closer to his and rocked her against his erection until she shuddered, her teeth clamping down on his skin.

  Yes.

  "Show me how you'd fuck me," he invited.

  She lifted her head and caught the back of the chair before rocking up, rolling her hips in a slow, taunting grind as she stared into his eyes. "Like this. Slow. Because you're big, and I love that feeling when you're first pushing into me."

  He could fuck her like that, withdrawing with every stroke just so he could drive into her all over again. "Can you feel my piercings when I'm in you?"

  "I feel something..." Her eyelids drooped as she gave a little shiver. "When you had me on my stomach on the couch that night, every damn thrust felt like coming all over again."

  Her nipple tightened even more under his thumb, as if merely saying the words turned her on. "Your G-spot, sweetness."

  She frowned and studied him through narrowed eyes. "I thought that was a story guys made up so they could talk you into bending over a table."

  "I'll show you." He twisted his hand slowly, until he could catch her nipple between his thumb and index finger in a hard pinch. "I'll fuck it until you come all over me."

  Her mouth dropped open on a silent moan, and she squeezed her eyes shut. "I'll come faster if you keep talking," she whispered, the words as unsteady as the sudden rocking of her hips.

  He wasn't usually a man of many words, but motivation like that had a way of changing things. "You know what to do, Six."

  Breathing heavily, she jerked her shirt out of his hands in her haste to haul it over her head.

  Bren caught a lock of her hair as it tumbled down her bare back. "Are you wet?" He tugged sharply. "Tell me."

  "You wanna know if you get me hot?" She reached for his shirt next. "You do. Sometimes just by breathing."

  It was a different sort of power, a need that transcended obedience. "I don't need submission, not the way you think of it. This is better."

  Her fingers fanned wide on his chest as she stilled her squirming and stared down at him. "You don't want to own my body," she said, the words hesitant, almost a question. "You w
ant me to give it to you, every damn time."

  The expression of gentle wonder made his dick ache. "Every time."

  "Because it belongs to me." She scratched him, streaking gentle lines of pain in her wake. "It's mine."

  "Yours." He pulled open the button and the zipper on her pants and urged the fabric down, off her ass. "Give it to me."

  "Tell me what you're gonna do with it," she challenged. "It better be dirty. It better be filthy."

  "Here? Fuck you 'til you can't breathe." He squeezed her ass. "But I talked to Ace."

  "Yeah?"

  Casual, too casual for the way she squirmed over him. "Yeah. We can show you a little pain, sweetness. Mine and yours, if you want it."

  "Will it turn you on for me to watch?" she demanded breathlessly. She freed her hands from his shirt only to slide them up his arms, fingers digging into muscle. "Would it turn you on if I let you fuck me in front of him? He couldn't help, not with the fucking. I only give my body to you."

  Excitement edged her voice, and Bren shuddered. She'd be hot around him, gripping his cock, while Ace rained a different sort of heat on his back. Blow after blow, but the thing about the fantasy that truly rocked him was her hunger, her anticipation.

  His pleasure would spark hers.

  He kissed her, dragging her mouth to his with a groan. Her pants were in the way, and he had to lift her to push them down and kick the denim free. The chair wobbled as she crashed down against him again and snatched at his shirt.

  She jerked at it hard enough to tear a seam, snarling in frustration until he helped her take it off, then guided her hands to his pants. She fumbled with his belt, her fingers trembling, but then she had it open and his fly down and she moaned as she closed her hand around his cock, like she was already imagining him inside her.

  Bren groaned and wrapped his hand over hers, squeezing her fist around him. "Now?"

  "Now," she echoed, leaning close enough to kiss him. "Take my body. I'm giving it to you."

  Open and wet, so eager that one thrust took him all the way inside her. He froze, her hips clutched to his, as her head fell back and her lips parted.

  She didn't speak, but the hands that settled on his shoulders, fingernails digging in, said plenty. She clung to him and squirmed, her throat working, her eyes clenched shut. "Like this," she whispered. "I love this part. When all I can feel is you."