Cruce raged for her, but there was much more than rage swirling within him. He mourned her stolen joy, felt her lingering pain, and yearned to heal the damage that had been wrought to her heart.
“I have never before wished to be able to leave the boundaries of my forest,” he said softly, “but I do now.”
Sophie raised her head and looked at him. “Why?”
“So I may find Tyler, rip him to shreds, and tear the life force from his body. I wish to make him suffer tenfold what you have suffered.”
Her lips parted, and her eyes widened infinitesimally. She looked away from him. “That you’ve vowed to protect me is enough, Cruce.” She lowered the box to her feet and reached inside to carefully cover the rabbit with the end of the blanket.
“No, it is not,” Cruce said, moving closer to her. The strain of holding his form in check was immense. “He is the reason you fear. And he must pay for what he has taken from you. For what he has done to you.”
Sophie leaned back and glanced down at herself — at the blood. She sighed and folded her hands in her lap. “It seems horrible to say this, but…that’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard from a man in a long time.” When she met his gaze again, she wore a faint, haunted smile.
Cruce stretched an arm toward her, cradling her cheek in his palm. He longed to touch her flesh to flesh, to soothe her, to caress her pain away. To provide her that simplest, most primal comfort. “Then the men in your life have ever been unworthy of you.”
Her smile strengthened. She reached toward him and slipped a hand into his outer shadows, watching the dark, misty tendrils weave through her fingers. “Your turn. How can your curse be broken?”
“You need not concern yourself over my fate, Sophie.”
Her brows lowered, and she frowned at him. “I told you my story. Now you tell me how to break your curse. An even trade, right?”
“That is not how this works.”
“Yes it—”
“There is nothing for me to tell you,” he growled.
She cringed, snapping her mouth shut, and a pang of regret pierced him. His remorse strengthened when she withdrew her hand and leaned away from his touch.
“All curses can be broken. Each has a key. I do not know what will end my curse, nor do I know where to begin,” he said, forcing his voice to a gentler tone. “The queen left my woods long ago, and there is no one left within my reach capable of puzzling it out.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”
“You’ve already helped more than you can know.” He sank lower and eased toward Sophie, looking up into her face. “Do not concern yourself over me. I will endure until nothing remains of my forest, with or without the curse.”
“That’s such a sad way to exist.”
“My existence has contained little sorrow over the last several days, Josephine Davis.” He brushed an inky tendril across her thigh.
Her legs parted slightly, and her breath quickened. She stared at him with dark eyes. The aroma of her arousal perfumed the air, mixing with her sweet lavender and vanilla scent, and Cruce pulled it into himself. He held onto it, absorbed it; he could almost taste it.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and heat emanated from her. She curled her fingers into the loose fabric of her shirt and twisted it.
“Cruce,” she whispered.
Pinning her with his eyes, he shifted closer, running that wispy tendril higher to slip around her thigh. He moved his mouth to her ear. “Let me in, Sophie.”
She gasped and leapt up. The chair scraped over the floorboards and teetered, nearly tipping over. Sophie threw a hand out to steady herself on the porch rail as she stumbled away. For several moments, she stared at him, wide-eyed and trembling. Did she fear Cruce, or the way she reacted to him?
In a rush of motion, she snatched up the box and hurried past him, throwing the screen door open and darting inside.
Her sudden retreat caught him off guard. He moved to follow her as the screen door slammed shut, pushing himself through only to be stopped by the invisible barrier at the threshold. Sophie adjusted her hold on the box to grasp the main door in one hand and turned to push it closed. She paused when her eyes met Cruce’s.
“Let me in, Sophie,” he repeated, voice husky with desire. He wanted to taste her, to touch her. He needed all of her.
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
Before he could ask why, she shut the door. There was a soft thump as she leaned against it on the other side. “Not yet,” she whispered.
He slid his palm over the door as his shadows licked ineffectively against its painted wood, driven by undeniable longing. For a fleeting moment, he thought he felt her warmth through the barrier.
Even when he’d possessed his physical body, he’d never desired anyone as much as he desired Josephine Davis. His time with the queen — who’d been supernaturally, impossibly beautiful — had been a dalliance, an exploration of curiosity. Despite her power, his lust for her had been minimal. Their coming together had primarily served to solidify a mutually beneficial arrangement. But Sophie’s allure possessed a strength he could not ignore.
She wanted him, too, but resisted for reasons he couldn’t fully understand. To be so close to her with that knowledge was torturous — more so than any curse the queen could have laid upon him.
He could not deny the truth; his want for Sophie now exceeded his desire to be free of his curse.
Chapter 9
Sophie adjusted her position for the umpteenth time; no matter how she lay, she couldn’t get comfortable enough to fall asleep. The mattress was too lumpy, or too hard, or too soft, and her pillow felt either flat as a board or stuffed so full that it bent her neck to an extreme angle. When her arms weren’t stiff and uncomfortable, her legs were restless. And she knew why.
She was aroused.
Her skin was hot and overly sensitive, her breasts full and weighty, her nipples tight and hard, and her sex was slick with need. She craved the cool, soothing caress of shadowy hands.
Flopping onto her back, she slapped her arms against her sides and glared up at the ceiling.
Who am I kidding? I’m not even tired.
After retreating from the porch, she’d eaten a quick dinner, showered, and put some water and food in the rabbit’s box. She’d considered going to bed the safest, most logical step after that. She just had to close her eyes and forget all about what had transpired between her and Cruce. But from the moment she lay down, all she could do was imagine the feel of his shadows on her skin while his husky, guttural voice echoed through her mind.
Let me in.
It had been too soon. Telling him about Tyler, about the hell she’d lived through, had reminded her how fresh those wounds remained. They’d scabbed over, and she’d torn those scabs off to let them bleed all over again.
Despite that, she wanted to let Cruce in.
Why hadn’t she?
I’m not…myself when I’m with him. I feel so much. He tempts me, arouses me, consumes me. What if he seeks to control me, too?
No. I’m in control of this. He gave me power over him.
But how much control did she really have? How absolute was it?
Oath or not, she believed that Cruce would never cause her harm, especially after seeing his reaction when he’d thought the blood on her shirt was hers. But the highest, most rational part of her mind said it was stupid to trust him. She should’ve known better by now. And yet…
Something within her, something deeper and more meaningful than both her conscious and subconscious mind, had recognized Cruce’s presence as a comfort from the beginning. What he was had frightened her, what he could do remained unsettling, but she did not fear him. He was a balm to her battered soul.
She closed her eyes, attempting to ignore her body’s demands, and strained for the peaceful oblivion of sleep. When she turned her mind toward mundane matters, her thoughts simply circled back to Cruce.
Groaning, Sophie kicked off the covers. Cool air settled over the bare skin of her legs. It wasn’t enough — it would never be enough, because it wasn’t him. She closed her eyes and finally relented to her desires.
She lifted her hands, settled them over her breasts, and squeezed, brushing her fingers over her nipples through her nightshirt. The sensation was but a whisper, a poor substitute for what she truly craved. She needed more.
Biting her lip, Sophie eased the hem of her nightshirt up over her hips, flattened her palm on her stomach, and slid her hand beneath the waistband of her underwear. Her fingers delved into the wet heat of her sex. She pressed a fingertip to her clit and worked it in small, slow circles. Her breath hitched as her pleasure steadily built.
She quickened the pace.
Her orgasm was short and swift. She gasped, squeezed her eyes shut, and slammed her thighs closed against the sensation. Though her breath was ragged, she felt no more sated than before. If anything, her arousal had only increased; her sex throbbed, wet and…
Hollow.
The entire act seemed hollow, devoid of emotion, of meaning.
I can fulfill your desires.
Her eyes snapped open. Had she heard Cruce with her ears or in her head?
“Let me in, Sophie,” he beckoned, his voice soft, smooth, and inhuman.
She looked at the window. A pair of faintly glowing eyes stared back at her from amidst a patch of darkness.
He’d watched her. She clenched her thighs around her hand. Rather than the embarrassment she would’ve expected, she found herself strangely excited. Her desire sparked anew. She lazily stroked her clit as she stared into his eyes; their glow intensified.
“Let me in, Josephine Davis.”
His voice, though muted by the glass, swept through her. She was tempted, so tempted…
She panted as her thighs eased apart.
“Sophie…”
It’s what I want.
She wasn’t scared of him, only of what he made her feel. Sophie wanted him.
“Cruce,” she rasped as she continued to stroke herself, “come inside.”
He faded away, clearing the window space to allow silvery moonlight to stream through. She waited, holding her breath, yearning for his touch.
The darkness on the windowsill deepened gradually; she didn’t realize it was in motion until it flowed down the wall, shifting like a shadow cast by a moving light source. The air seemed to cool further, raising anticipatory goosebumps on her skin.
Shadows coalesced at the foot of her bed to form a tall figure with huge antlers jutting off its head.
Cruce’s starlight eyes fell upon her. “Remove your coverings, mortal.”
Sophie’s heart leapt. She’d been forced to follow commands for years, but this command…this one she wanted, and it made her burn with longing.
She slid her hand out from between her thighs and hooked the sides of her underwear with her fingers. Lifting her backside, she pulled her panties down her legs until she was able to kick them off. She grasped the hem of her nightgown next and drew it up, over her head, tossing it onto the floor.
She lay bare before the Lord of the Forest.
“Spread your legs, Josephine.” Though his eyes didn’t seem to move, she felt his gaze trail down her body like a physical touch.
With her hands curled into loose fists on either side of her head, Sophie slowly parted her thighs, exposing her sex.
Cruce’s form swelled, billowing outward like spreading smoke. He flowed over the bed, tendrils of shadow creeping over the sheets ahead of his main mass to slide over her legs. They felt like little puffs of cool air blown by a lover. As he neared, the tendrils twisted together to form arms. His hands glided along her outer thighs and the curves of her hips.
His antlered head dropped between her legs. Sophie’s breath caught in her throat as she felt the chilled slide of his long, pliable tongue over her slick folds. He produced a low, ravenous hum that vibrated across her skin.
“Oh God,” Sophie moaned, tilting her pelvis toward him.
“What do you ask of me, mortal?” he purred and licked her again. “What do you desire?”
His touch affected her deeply, seeming more substantial than ever before, but his voice was just as powerful. Delicious heat flared low in her belly.
“I want…” She bit her lip, cutting off a sharp moan as she arched her back.
“What do you need, Josephine?” His shadowy hands moved over her sides to cover her breasts, pearling her nipples with their chill.
His tongue swirled around her clit before slipping inside her, stroking her inner walls, as more hands settled over her bare skin. Cruce’s darkness consumed her; it swallowed the bedroom, the moonlight, and drew Sophie into a world where only the two of them existed. The pleasure he inflicted upon her built and built until it burst in a wave of exquisite torment.
“You!” she cried out as she writhed upon the sheets. Her climax rippled through her, tensing her limbs and producing a gush of liquid heat between her thighs.
“Yes,” Cruce growled, his shadowy form rising over her. He caged her in his arms. Misty wisps of darkness licked at her shoulders, but his body appeared more composed, more corporeal, than ever before.
Panting, she stared up into his blazing eyes.
“And you will have me, Sophie.” He entered her sex. His cool, ghostlike touch flowed over her slick flesh, permeating her, stroking all the right places so lightly that it was maddening. Though her vaginal walls didn’t stretch, he filled her. The part of him within Sophie moved ceaselessly, pulsing like an electric current to send thrills throughout her body.
She moaned and reached for him. Her hands encountered no physical form, but the space he occupied was thicker than air, denser, just how she’d imagined it would feel to touch a cloud when she was young. She moved beneath him, her skin thrumming with his supernatural ministrations. A tendril of shadow trailed over her breasts and down her middle, toward her pelvis. It delved between her thighs to stroke her clit.
“I will claim you, Josephine,” Cruce rasped.
A stronger pulse flared within Sophie’s sex and she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as her head fell backward.
“I will feel your heat,” Cruce continued. The vibrations within her quickened. “I will drink your sweet nectar.” Another pulse, more intense than the last. Sophie cried out. “And I will taste your very essence.”
He lowered his head, his eyes brighter than she’d ever seen. “Soon, you will be mine.”
Immense pleasure blasted through Sophie, lighting up every nerve in her body. She screamed his name as she came, and he settled atop her, enveloping her, making it impossible to know where he ended and she began. He was in her, around her, part of her very being. She felt him everywhere.
When she finally came down from the heights of her passion, she could do little more than lay there, exhausted but sated, every inch of her skin tingling with the aftermath of Cruce’s attention. Though the intensity of his touch diminished, he didn’t withdraw from her. His nearness soothed her.
Soon, her eyelids grew heavy, and she sighed as weariness draped over her. “Cruce…”
“I am here, Sophie,” he said gently, stroking her cheek.
Sophie closed her eyes and smiled. She felt him, inside and out, and that didn’t frighten her. Even when he’d blocked out all the light, she hadn’t been afraid. With Cruce, she was…safe.
Cruce relished Sophie’s warmth. He possessed no willpower by which to draw away from her, no desire to deprive himself of the sensations she awoke within him — each of which was more powerful than anything he’d ever felt. Even though the experience was incomplete, even though there was so much missing, it was overwhelming. What would it be like when he could truly touch her and taste her? When he could slide into her and feel her inner walls clutching his cock to draw him deeper?
His own contentment at that moment was driven by so much — her pleasure,
her body’s response to his attention, her scent, her heat. Her enjoyment and satisfaction were reward enough, but he’d received something else, too. Whether knowingly or not, she’d transferred fresh, potent life force to him while in the throes of passion. It had been more powerful than anything he’d consumed during his curse.
He’d not drained her at all; though her essence was tantalizing, he felt no compulsion to feed from it, and he refused to her harm regardless. Her life force felt just as strong as it always had, if not more so, as though bolstered by her contentment. She’d given to him without taking from herself. It made no sense to Cruce, but he accepted it; he didn’t need to understand every aspect of his irresistible attraction to Sophie to accept it.
She was made to be his, and he was meant to be hers.
The thought was jarring. One of the unspoken rules of his world had always been never to cede power without receiving something equal or greater in exchange. This was not a relationship between a fae queen and a forest lord, and there were no immense magical forces at work. He stood to gain nothing but some joy — fleeting joy, given her mortal lifespan — by offering himself to Josephine Davis. She could not protect him, she could not reinforce his realm in any meaningful fashion, and she possessed no magic by which to break his curse or battle potential enemies.
But he wanted to belong to her, all the same.
“Josephine…” he said softly, continuing to stroke her bare skin.
She stirred, stretching her limbs. “Hmm?”
He hesitated. How much did he need to tell her? Withholding information was not the same as lying, and she didn’t need to know all his secrets. It would be foolish to instill so much trust in a human.
And yet he wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know that she had his trust no matter what was to come, no matter what choice she made.
“All Hallows Eve falls in three nights, and it will be lit by a full moon. From moonrise to sunrise, I will have physical form.”
A crease appeared between her brows, and she opened her eyes. “You’re talking about Halloween? What do you mean?”
His Darkest Craving Page 11