by Kit Rocha
She pushed up on her knees, past ready to have him inside her, to hear the relief in his voice when he finally thrust home. Instead, she got the stinging slap of his open palm against her ass.
The growl caught in her throat, then tumbled free as a laugh. “Tease.”
“Never.” He soothed the spot with a scrape of his fingernails. “I thought about making you choose between this…” His hand fell again, on the opposite side, the sound of the blow sending a shiver up her spine even before the pain reached her. “And this…”
It was all the warning she got before his cock pressed against her pussy. He drove deep, all the way in with one long thrust, and her knees almost slipped from under her again.
He hauled her back into place. “You never have to choose. Say it.”
“I never—” She shivered again, and even that slight movement generated enough friction to drive a cry from her throat. “Never have to choose just one.”
His hand fell again, brutal and sure, lighting up every nerve ending with sensation so intense, it was past pain, past ecstasy. He'd spanked her before, every bit as hard, but he'd been different then. Uncertain, hesitant, desire and doubt all tangled together.
Stripping away the collar had freed him. Now, every deliberate touch screamed confidence. She cried his name when he plunged into her again, and he picked up the rhythm, alternating swats with driving thrusts.
Her skin heated, not just where he was spanking her, but all over. The mounting pleasure swirled together with the afterglow and the pain-fueled rush until it coalesced into an anticipation, a hunger, sharper than anything she'd ever known.
His hand slammed against the bed, and he leaned over her until his mouth grazed her cheek. The heat of his chest burned against her back as he slipped a hand underneath her and stroked her clit. “You never have to do without. Not while I'm here.”
The words vibrated through her, tipping her over the edge. She couldn't scream, couldn't even draw a breath as it crashed through her this time, because all she wanted to do was focus on this feeling—the two of them, tangled together, connected in a way that went beyond bodies and fucking. By a need deeper than desire.
And he was right there with her. He moaned with every pulse of her body around his, the sensation drawing him into harder and harder thrusts. Then he jerked, cursed, and came with a shudder that rocked through her body.
He lay there on top of her, panting, his breath hot on her cheek. She was trapped, and yet she'd never felt safer than when he threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed her hands. “Everything okay?”
It didn't hold a trace of the anxious concern that usually gripped him. This question was satisfied, almost smug. Jeni smiled. “Very.”
“Good.” He brushed a kiss to her temple and eased away to sprawl on his back with a soft groan. “Now I regret not going for the regen. If I had, I might still be—”
“Oh, my God.” She sat up and reached for him, then stopped with her hands hovering over his bandages like an idiot. “Your ribs.”
“Hey.” He caught her hands and pulled her back to his side. “I may not be good as new, but Doc has some damn nice drugs over there. I'm all right. In another week or two, I'll be fucking you up against the door to prove it.”
“Laugh at me if you want, but Lex said—” The memory of the panic that had gripped Jeni choked off her words. “She said you almost died.”
“I know.” He turned slowly, so they were face-to-face, with only a few inches between them. “I'm sorry I laughed. I know how scary it is.”
The panic subsided as she placed her hand over his heart and felt its healthy, steady beat. “I know that what I did hurt you, and I'm sorry. And I'm not—” She shook her head to cut off his protest. “I'm not getting into that again, I swear. I just think we need to say it.”
“Say what?”
“Things are dangerous right now. Hell, they always have been, even before this standoff with the city.” She took a deep breath. “I don't know how much time we have, whether it's thirty minutes or thirty years. However long it is, I want to live it. I don't want to be afraid all the time.”
“Wait.” He groaned again as he rolled from the bed and padded to the table. He kicked free of his jeans and swept up the box, returning to stretch out next to her with the little paper-wrapped package on the bed between them. “Open it.”
Jeni tugged at the twine and snapped it when it snarled into a knot. Then she pulled the paper away to reveal a plain white box. Inside, nestled on a bed of black, was the medallion from her collar, remade as a pendant strung on a delicate silver chain.
“I figured you could wear it under your shirt.” He brushed a finger between her breasts. “So it matches mine. It doesn't have to be about anyone else, just you and me. The best parts of us, in something new.”
She stared down at the pendant, and the last piece of the puzzle slipped into place. He hadn't asked for proof—but that didn't mean she couldn't offer it. “I want the ink, too. It doesn't have to be anything like a collar. It can be whatever we decide.” She met his gaze, and the barely leashed longing glittering there made her suck in a breath. “And I want to marry you.”
He caught her hand and tangled their fingers together. “Really?”
It was a piece of his culture, part of the home he'd lost, and another way to show him that she would always be there for him. “Really.”
He pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed the backs of her fingers, his eyes shining. “Will you marry me tomorrow?”
For a moment, she thought he was making a joke. Then she remembered. “You want to do it there?”
“If you're willing.”
“I am.” She cupped his cheek, then grinned when he turned his head to kiss her hand again. She'd been happy before, just being with him, but this was more. Joy, contentment. Looking forward to a future that only they could build.
And that was the real promise—that they'd been through hell, come out the other side, and, still, the only place they ever wanted to be was in each other's arms.
Chapter Twenty-Three
At the rate the night was going, everyone would be drunk before Hawk managed to get Jeni married to him. And somehow he couldn't bring himself to mind.
The memorials always involved drinking. Shipp's boys would circle the cars, headlights shining in, and the adults would gather to laugh and cry while they passed around bottles of Big John's stomach-melting moonshine.
Finn and Trix had arrived at the edge of Four in a car loaded down with the good stuff. Not just the top-shelf liquor, but a couple of bottles from Nessa with labels Hawk had never seen before—the small batch runs that had aged for years and went down so smooth, Big John was swigging it like water.
Nessa would probably be horrified. Hawk just hoped the man would still be steady enough to perform the wedding ceremony.
They'd already performed the other one. Three small stone cairns stood in the middle of the circle, constructed from rocks gathered by the children, held together with mortar mixed from the dirt of their new home. Maybe someday they'd go back into Sector Six and gather up the other cairns to bring to their new home. Maybe they'd go back to the farm and take Shipp's and Luna's with them. Either way, the people they'd lost would be remembered, and loved.
The third cairn was for Noelle's father.
Hawk glanced across the fire at her. She still hadn't left the protective circle of Jas's arms, but some of the bleak uncertainty had faded from her eyes. Every last one of Hawk's brothers and sisters knew the miserable confusion of grieving a father who had caused you so much pain.
They'd help her find solace, and peace. They would understand if she cried and also if she didn't. Sometimes that was all it took, breaking free of everyone else's expectations.
“I'm so glad you decided to do this tonight.”
Hawk turned to Alya, who had come up to lean against Big John's car beside him. “Are you sure?”
“Hell, yes.” She slun
g an arm across his shoulders and pulled him into a half hug. Though her eyes were still rimmed with red, they were clear tonight. Alya was in leader mode, strong and resolute in the face of her people's grief and uncertainty. But there was joy there too—sincere pleasure—and Hawk had to wonder how much his solitary, determined existence had worried her over the years.
Probably more than he wanted to know.
“She's a good girl,” Alya said softly, watching as Jeni and Trix hugged Bethany, all three of them blinking back tears through their laughter over some story Bethany was telling. “She'll take care of you. That's all I ever wanted.”
“We'll take care of each other,” he countered.
She smiled. “Even better.”
“All right,” John said as he stepped into the middle of their loosely gathered circle. “Let's do this before I get so liquored up I can't see straight.” He peered down at the slim, leather-bound book in his hand, rubbed his eyes, then tossed the book over his shoulder. “Fuck it, I don't need it. Not for this.”
Alya nudged Hawk with her elbow. “Go get your girl.”
Hawk kissed his mother's cheek before pushing away from the car. Bethany nudged Jeni toward him, and for a second he felt as stunned as the first moment he'd laid eyes on her. The bright headlights lit her up from behind, just like the lights on the stage, but she wasn't dressed in her costumes and masks. She wasn't hiding.
She walked toward him, her simple sundress swaying in the night breeze. The necklace he'd given her circled her throat, the medallion resting over her clothes. Over her heart. His own heart pounded as hard as it had before his first race.
He caught her hand in his and turned to face John. “I've had about all I can stand of not being hers.”
“I hear that.” He straightened his shoulders. “Most things in this world don't last. They're made and eventually fall apart. Plants grow and wither. People are born, and then we—” His gravelly voice hitched. “Well, we die. It's just how things work. There's no start without a finish. No beginning without an end.”
Jeni squeezed Hawk's hand.
“The only exception, the one thing that never has to die, is love. It's what keeps us together when times are tough, what helps our people remember us when we're gone.” He glanced at Alya, so quickly Hawk could have blinked and missed it. “Love can last forever.”
Alya lifted her bottle in silent tribute. Around the circle, people echoed the gesture, raising flasks and tin cups and sometimes just their joined hands. Hawk's eyes burned as he clung to Jeni's hand…
And let go of the rest of his fear.
If he died next week, he'd want Jeni to go on. To hold him in her heart, to remember him with love, but to keep living. To do it for his sake, until eventually she wanted to live for herself again. Just like Shipp would be looking down from wherever he was, whispering to Alya to love him hard enough to love herself someday.
And if Alya had gone down fighting, she'd have wanted the same for Shipp. Just like Jeni would have wanted for Hawk.
That was all she'd meant that day in the workshop, the day he'd shut her down over and over again with his promises of the future. Not for him to say he'd had enough of her, but to promise she could be enough. That he'd love her every day like it was the only day that mattered, because they were fighting to fix a broken world. Putting his life on her shoulders, making his survival conditional to hers…
It was selfish. And they would both break under the strain of it.
He rubbed his thumb over hers and met her gaze. “I promise to love you. Wherever we go, whatever happens. In this life and anything that comes after it.”
Jeni touched the pendant around her neck. “Me too.”
John broke out in a huge grin. “Right on. Now go forth and multiply, or some shit.”
The crowd around them broke into laughter. Hawk did too, even as he hauled Jeni to him. She was smiling when he kissed her, her lips tilted up, and he realized he wanted to spend the rest of his life kissing her while she was smiling.
“Congratulations,” she murmured against his mouth.
He pulled her closer. “That's right. Everyone should be congratulating me. I just married the best woman in the whole damn world.”
“I know better than to argue with that.”
Hawk kissed her again.
Alya's voice rose above the hoots of the crowd. “Enough, enough. You're scandalizing the babies.”
“The babies went to bed hours ago,” someone else shouted. “The rest of us are enjoying the show.”
Hawk broke away from Jeni with a fake scowl. “Who said that?”
Half a dozen people called out different names, and Alya smiled as she walked toward Hawk. Then she slipped her hand out of her pocket and held it out, and Hawk's heart kicked in his chest.
He recognized the keys. A simple set, with a tiny metal flag hanging from the ring. Just three bars of color—green, white, and orange. It'd been banged up over the years, the colors fading, scratches and dings marring the surface, but Hawk had seen those keys in Shipp's fist a thousand times.
“Alya, I can't—”
“Hush.” She jerked her head toward the far side of the circle. “Big John got her all cleaned up for you. Shipp would want it this way. I have too much damn work to do to go driving. She deserves to be with someone who'll love her like he did.”
He saw the pain under her joy. Maybe someday, when the loss didn't cut so deep, Alya would want that car back. Maybe she'd want the memories of all the times they'd disappeared for an evening drive. All the times they'd vanished for even longer.
Until she was ready, Hawk could take care of this part of Shipp's legacy. Lord knew his mother would have her hands full with the rest. “I'll take care of her.”
“I know you will.” She dumped the keys in his hand and dragged Jeni into a rough hug. “And you keep taking care of him.”
Jeni smiled, but she didn't reply until she was back at Hawk's side, her arm around his waist. “It's what I live for.”
Dallas
After years of bitching and moaning, Dallas had finally developed an appreciation for technology.
The entire back wall of the meeting room had been converted into a constantly updating display of the battle lines they'd drawn around Sector Six. Without leaving the Broken Circle, he could watch the notations on the map shift when Cruz or Bren came up with fresh recon.
Eden was pulling back. Not into the city, but deeper into Sector Six. They'd established a buffer zone between Five and Six and were moving out now, no doubt trying to salvage anything left from the fires they'd finally gotten under control. From there, they'd go out and start picking off the communes.
They'd taken out the bridges on the west side of the reservoir, meaning Dallas and Ryder would have to get an army across a river to attack from the other side. If they tried, Eden could open the dam and dump the entire fucking reservoir on top of them.
Their stalemate had broken, but it could reform awful fast. No doubt Eden wanted it that way. Every day they spent digging into Sector Six would make it harder for Dallas to dig them the fuck back out. They'd be able to resupply the city, and the war of attrition could go on for months. Hell, years.
All of the rebellion's advantages would vanish if they let Eden get comfortable.
They couldn't let Eden get comfortable.
“Dallas? You wanted me?”
Dallas didn't turn away from the wall as Noah slipped into the conference room. The display updated again, revealing another piece of Eden's fortifications. “They're settling in for a nice long war over in Six.”
Noah came to stand next to him. “That wouldn't be good for us.”
“No, it wouldn't.” He glanced at the younger man and weighed what he was about to do. Noah had fallen into his lap so many months ago, a perfect weapon he'd had to hold patiently in reserve. With the hacker's access to Eden's network, Dallas could bring the city to its knees.
But he could only do it once. Than
k fucking God he'd saved it for this. “We can't let them get comfortable.”
Excitement lit Noah's eyes. He flexed his fingers. “Are you saying…?”
“You're off the leash, Noah.” Dallas waved his hand over the tablet on the table. Five vanished, replaced with a rendering of the city. Tens of thousands of people lived crowded within those walls. Some of them were innocent. Some were pure, undiluted evil.
Dallas didn't have the luxury of keeping them all cozy anymore. “Shut them down. Start with the power grid. Let's see how those fancy motherfuckers like the dark.”
About the Author
Kit Rocha is the pseudonym for co-writing team Donna Herren and Bree Bridges. After penning dozens of paranormal novels, novellas and stories as Moira Rogers, they branched out into gritty, sexy dystopian romance. The Beyond series has appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists, and was honored with a 2013 RT Reviewer’s Choice award. Get updates about their new books by subscribing to their announcement list, or visit their website at kitrocha.com
Copyright Information
THE BEYOND SERIES, Books 1-3
Beyond Shame, Copyright © 2012 by Kit Rocha
Beyond Control, Copyright © 2013 by Kit Rocha
Beyond Pain, Copyright © 2013 by Kit Rocha
Beyond Temptation, Copyright © 2014 by Kit Rocha
Beyond Jealousy, Copyright © 2014 by Kit Rocha
Beyond Solitude, Copyright © 2014 by Kit Rocha
Beyond Addiction, Copyright © 2014 by Kit Rocha
Beyond Possession, Copyright © 2014 by Kit Rocha
Beyond Innocence, Copyright © 2015 by Kit Rocha
Beyond Ruin, Copyright © 2016 by Kit Rocha
Beyond Ecstasy, Copyright © 2016 by Kit Rocha
Closed Door, Copyright © 2015 by Kit Rocha
Blank Canvas, Copyright © 2015 by Kit Rocha
Edited by Sasha Knight
These books are works of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.