The Redemption Series

Home > Other > The Redemption Series > Page 44
The Redemption Series Page 44

by Melynda Price


  “So, this must be your…someone,” Haden said to her, getting up from his chair and into Liam’s face. “I’m Haden,” he said, extending his hand with a falsetto smile. Although on the surface, the gesture appeared friendly enough, the unspoken contempt radiating between the two of them set off a warning that turned her blood to ice in her veins.

  “I know who you are,” Liam growled, refusing to take the hand extended toward him. “Come here, Olivia,” he ordered, his voice cold and hard as steel. He reached for her without taking his eyes off Haden. The two were locked in a heated stare down, each refusing to be the first to look away. Obediently, she slid out of the booth and grasped Liam’s hand. The second they touched, he pulled her behind him. “I think you’d better leave.” It was a command rather than a request.

  “For now,” Haden conceded. “Olivia, it was truly a pleasure meeting you.” The edge of his voice softened to that smooth, suave brogue. “It’s a pity we couldn’t finish that drink. Oh well, some other time then?” His icy green gaze slowly traveled the length of her. Goose bumps erupted everywhere his eyes touched, eliciting a feral growl from Liam.

  “I’ll pass…” she replied crisply, not exactly sure what was happening between them, but whatever side Liam was on, that’s where she stood.

  Haden chuckled. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full with this one, Warrior.” He spat the last word with contempt as he turned and walked away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Liam’s grip on Olivia’s hand was biting, unrelenting, and painful. Wordlessly, he turned and walked toward the elevator, dragging her along behind him like a little child. She stumbled a couple of times, trying to keep up with his brisk stride. Not once did he slow or even look back. Fury literally radiated off him. She’d never seen him so angry—at her—and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t scare her a little. She wondered how much of his rage was a result of her disobedience and how much of it was because she’d been having a drink with another man. Did it really matter?—pissed off was still pissed off.

  Liam jabbed the elevator button and stood there silently waiting for the doors to open. His death grip on her hand hadn’t lightened one little bit.

  “I’m sorry…” she whispered softly to his back.

  His spine stiffened, shoulders straightened. “I don’t want to talk about it, Olivia,” he replied, the icy edge of his voice cutting deep. The elevator doors slid open, and he pulled her inside. The second the door closed behind them, Liam dropped her hand and punched the button for the twelfth floor.

  In self-preservation, her anger soared. It was easier to be mad than hurt, even if she had no right to be. It was still better than accepting responsibility for her petty, dangerous behavior tonight. “You know what?” Olivia snapped, turning her spiteful glare on him. “If you hadn’t left me tonight, none of this would have happened!”

  Liam spun on her so fast she took a startled step back, colliding with the wall. He leveled her with his imposing amethyst glare, and her knees went weak, her throat dry—speechless. “If you would have stayed in the room like I told you, none of this would have happened!”

  Olivia lost it. The stress of the last few days had finally pushed her past the breaking point. She stepped toward Liam and shoved him with everything she had. She was even more furious when he didn’t budge. “You shouldn’t have left me!” she yelled, not sure if she meant tonight or three years ago—probably both.

  Liam reached out, grabbing Olivia’s arms so fast she didn’t have time to move away. He marched her back until she collided with the false wood paneling. His biting grip pinned her arms to the wall as he glared down at her. “If I wouldn’t have left,” he growled, “I wouldn’t be returning you to your fiancé in the same pristine condition in which you left!” The word “fiancé” flew from his mouth like a foul oath as his grip on her wrists tightened.

  She winced in pain. “I’m not going to marry Mitch!” she yelled at him, trying to jerk her arms free. “I love you! I’ve always loved you!”

  Liam froze, his eyes searching hers. Suddenly, a tortured growl tore from his throat as he descended on her with astonishing speed, his mouth claiming hers with the brutality of a lover denied—harsh, demanding, searing. Her startled gasp gave him the opening to fully claim her with his kiss. Mercy, he tasted better than she remembered—like warm, muted spices, traces of cinnamon and cloves teased her tongue. Olivia’s struggles ceased and she moaned softly in surrender, returning his kiss packed with three years of heartache and longing.

  The moment he released her arms, they circled his neck, holding on tight for fear that he’d have second thoughts and try to let her go. But he had no intention of releasing her… Slowly, his hands slid down her sides, his thumbs brushing the outer swells of her breasts, sending a jolt of heat into the pit of her stomach. His hands circled her waist, dipped to her low back, and over her bottom. With a swift, effortless jerk, he lifted her up, pinning her against the wall with his chest.

  Olivia wrapped her legs around his hips, parlaying the demands of his kiss that ripped a strangled groan from his throat. All the times he’d touched her, all the times he’d kissed her…never before had he handled her with such raw, untethered passion. She liked it—a lot. Perhaps they’d both changed in more ways than one.

  Already, she could feel Liam’s energy ramping up. His temperature was spiking, and the sizzle of his reverb was already starting to snake under her skin—a juxtaposition of pain and pleasure. If he didn’t get a handle on it soon…

  Olivia refused to let her mind go there. She knew the moment he sensed any hesitation in her, this would all be over. She’d made that mistake once and was determined not to go there again. She wanted him, at least as much of him as he was willing to give her. He couldn’t have sex with her—that much she knew. But beyond that, she wasn’t sure what his limitations of intimacy actually were.

  The elevator bumped to a stop, the bell dinged, and the sultry automated elevator voice announced their arrival to the twelfth floor. Olivia groaned in protest when her feet touched the floor. Her legs felt weak, threatening to buckle if she tried to take as much as a step. Now she clung to his neck to keep herself upright. Liam broke their kiss as the elevator doors slid open. Thankfully, he braced his arm behind her back for support as he guided her past an elderly couple waiting to enter.

  Neither of them spoke as they walked down the hall. Olivia’s mind was still reeling from his kiss, but she didn’t miss the cooling of Liam’s touch on her back. The sizzling heat simmered with each passing second as he regained control of his emotions, re-erecting those carefully placed walls. Olivia bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming in frustration, vowing to tear those barriers down the moment they reached their room.

  Liam touched the handle of their hotel door and the lock released with a soft click. The consummate gentleman, he held it open for her, and she walked in ahead of him. The moment the door closed, those dreaded words passed his lips. “Olivia, I’m sor—”

  “No!” she interrupted, spinning around to face him. “Don’t you dare say it!” She poked him in the chest. “Don’t you dare apologize for kissing me—” Flattening her palms against his rock hard pecks, she pushed against him. This time he moved, taking a step back to stand flush against the door. His heart slammed against her palm. “—because I’m not sorry,” she whispered, standing on her tip toes to place a kiss against the side of his neck. He was too tall for her to reach his lips unless he met her partway.

  His heartbeat leapt beneath her hand, pounding harder—faster as he fought for control. She could feel it slipping as she kissed the side of his neck, tasting the rapid beat of his pulse with the tip of her tongue. His energy was starting to stir like the slow, churning tide of an impending hurricane. Oh, this male was powerful, mysterious, amazing—hers…for right now, anyway.

  “No regrets,” she whispered against his throat. “I know you want to kiss me back. I can feel it…” Methodically, she u
nbuttoned his shirt, peeling it off one shoulder at a time, trailing kisses across his collarbone.

  When her hands flittered down his stomach, she heard the sharp rasp of his breath hissing through clenched teeth and the dull thud of his head hitting the door as he tipped it back.

  Olivia smiled up at him, dipping her fingers past the waistband on his low-slung jeans, and arched her brow flirtatiously. “You’re not gonna make me get on my knees and beg, are you?” She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, unfastening the button, and bent to kneel. “Because I will…” she teased.

  Before she could go any lower, Liam grabbed her arms and lifted her up...and up, until her feet left the ground. He held her suspended in the air, where face to face, she met his burning sapphire gaze.

  “No regrets,” he rasped with fracturing restraint.

  “No regrets—” she promised again.

  The second the words left her mouth, Liam swung her into his arms and kissed her. Without breaking stride, he carried her to the bed and covered her body with his. Olivia abandoned all rational processes, no longer thinking, only feeling…feeling the heat of flesh-covered steel as his massive size dwarfed her, pressing her deep into the mattress. His reverb hummed inside her veins, growing stronger with each desperate stroke of her hands. He must have felt it, too, because he caught her wrists in his hand, trapping them above her head. “Don’t touch me,” he warned, whispering against her mouth. “Otherwise, I won’t be able to control it.”

  “I think you’re trying to torture me,” she purred.

  “Sweetheart, I haven’t even started yet.” He kissed her neck, dragging in a slow, deep breath. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, how much I’ve craved your scent in my lungs, your taste on my tongue… I love you, Olivia, always and forever.”

  She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck, to hold onto him and never let go. But she couldn’t move. His grip was gentle, but unyielding. “I love you, too,” she vowed. “Always and forever…”

  He stilled above her, lifted his head and looked into her eyes with a fiery intensity that ached all the way to her bones. “I want you, Olivia, but I’m so afraid of hurting you.”

  Did he mean physically or emotionally?—perhaps both? “I’m not afraid,” she whispered. “No regrets, remember?”

  Searching her eyes, he nodded briskly and took each of her hands, wrapping her fingers around the spindles of the headboard. “Don’t let go,” he instructed her.

  Olivia hung onto the headboard, watching as he unfastened the straps of her dress, easing it down over her breasts, past her hips, thighs…ankles. His touch was hot, but not burning. His furrowed brow was the only evidence of his struggle to contain his energy. Her dress hit the floor, and his hands slowly traveled back up her thighs. “You okay?” he asked, casting her an uncertain glance. For a brief moment, she was worried he’d change his mind.

  Her heart thundered inside her chest, making her breathless. She tried to answer him, but her voice failed her. “Uh-huh… You?” was all she could manage.

  “So far…”

  They both knew what would happen if his control slipped and he let his energy go. At the very least, she’d be burned by it. Worst case scenario, she could die. All it would take was for his control to fracture and a surge of his energy to transfer into her. They were moving into uncharted territory here. If they didn’t proceed with caution—

  Liam slipped his thumbs beneath her panties and slowly pulled the scrap of lace down her legs. The black thong joined her dress on the floor. His gaze darkened, raking over her like a caress as he rasped, “You’re so beautiful, Olivia. I should be the one on my knees for you…” The awe in his voice humbled her. Never had she felt more loved, honored, and cherished than she did at this very moment.

  “Th…thank you…” she whispered as he took his time crawling back up her body. His mouth met hers in a searing kiss, his spicy scent growing stronger, more dominant as his energy spiked. “What about you?” she panted when his lips moved to her jaw and began trekking down her neck.

  “Uh-uh, pants stay on. It’s safer this way.”

  Safer maybe, but a lot less fun—especially for him. She was dying to touch him, to explore his body as he was now becoming reacquainted with hers. But her protest died in her throat, turning to gasps of pleasure as he kissed his way down her stomach. The lower he went, the hotter his touch became. He must have known it, too, because at the last possible moment, he let go of her hips and fisted the sheets beside her waist. As he repositioned himself, she quickly realized that his mouth was the only place his energy didn’t travel, and that revelation would have brought her to tears, if his mouth wasn’t bringing her somewhere else entirely different.

  Chapter Fourteen

  By the time Haden got back to the car, Rowen was already waiting for him, looking even more surly than usual. Of course, that gash across the right side of his cheek probably hadn’t done much to brighten his mood.

  “What the hell happened to you?” he asked, climbing into the car, trying to drum up some give-a-shit concern in his voice. But then, it was hard to pull it off with him grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Damn, he wished he could have been there to see that.

  “What the hell do you think happened?” Rowen snapped. “That asshole cracked me with his beer bottle. Son of a bitch is really fast,” he grumbled sullenly.

  Haden laughed. Well, not really. He hadn’t truly laughed since Anya, but it was close enough. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

  “That he’s so fast?”

  “No, that he was drinking a beer. Do they really do that?”

  “You know, your concern is really touching,” Rowen snapped sarcastically. “Maybe next time you can keep him distracted and I’ll go find the girl, since your awesome tracking skills seem to be lacking. Or did you find her? Is she here? Did you kill her?” The snark in Rowen’s voice told Haden he already knew the answer to his question.

  He paused for a moment before answering. Save his pride or tip his hand—decisions, decisions… “No, I didn’t find her,” he grumbled. “Let’s get a room for the night. I need to blow off some steam. There’s a place on the edge of town I like to stay at when I’m in this area—the House of Night.”

  Hopefully, the prospect of some female company would keep Rowen distracted from continuing his search for Olivia—at least for a little while. Perhaps a couple bottles of whiskey wouldn’t hurt, either. He needed to get his hands on that stone before Rowen nabbed the female. Maybe the bastard was too stupid to realize what hung around her neck, maybe he wasn’t. Either way, Haden wasn’t willing to take that risk. He had too much time invested in this to fail now, and without that stone, his revenge would be nothing but a pipedream.

  “Why don’t you swing into the liquor store on the way out of town. With a bottle in one hand and a honey in the other, I promise you won’t be givin’ a shit about that little nick on your cheek.”

  ***

  No regrets… That’s what they’d promised each other. And Liam meant it—every word. He just hoped the High Court wouldn’t make a liar out of him. As he lay there watching the ceiling fan slowly whirring above them, the stirring breeze teased his senses with a melee of heady spice and vanilla-jasmine.

  Would the court discover the boundaries they’d breached tonight? It was hard to say. How did they know half the things they knew? Only time would tell if there would be consequences to his actions. But lying here with his female sleeping in his arms, Liam was hard-pressed to work up a convincing case of remorse.

  He loved this woman—he always had—he always would. He’d die a thousand deaths for her, and in the last three years, being separated from her, watching her with another man, it certainly felt like he had. This night was about so much more than the physical, although the intimacy with her had been incredible. It had been about them reconnecting, recommitting their love, solidifying their bond.

  Walking in that bar and finding Haden within an
arm’s reach of her, had nearly stopped his heart with dread. This wasn’t the first time she’d inadvertently put herself in danger because she was mad at him, but he was damn determined to make sure it was the last.

  Rowen was a very real threat, one that needed eliminated—the sooner the better. He wasn’t sure where the rest of the legion was, but it’d be wise of him not to wait until the odds were tipped in their favor before taking him out. And Haden… That bastard had a shot at Olivia and hadn’t taken it. Why not? The Dark Court had commissioned the hunter to track her for Rowen. Surely he, too, intended to kill her.

  Just the thought of how close that POS had come to touching her last night spiked his temper, the primal male in him churned with contempt. Instinctively, his grip on Olivia tightened and he tucked her closer to his side. She stirred, her eyelids flickering open and she looked up at him. Not even the haze of sleep could hide the verdant beauty of her gaze.

  “Mmm…” Her stretch reminded him of a content feline that had fallen asleep basking in the sun. “What time is it?” she whispered.

  He threaded his hand into her hair and pressed her head back into the nook of his shoulder. “It’s still early. I’m sorry I woke you. Try to get some more rest.” Dipping his head, he pressed a kiss to the top of her silky hair and inhaled her scent deep into his lungs. He wasn’t ready for the night to be over, forcing them back into reality. He much preferred to lie here, holding her in his arms while pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist.

  Unfortunately, reality had a nasty way of sneaking up on a guy and kicking him right in the balls.

  ***

  Haden let out an exhausted sigh as he climbed off the whore and flopped onto his back, the last bit of his energy completely spent. The springs of the worn mattress squeaked in protest beneath him. The ceiling fan whined as it blew cool air against his sweat-slickened flesh. The naked woman turned into him, curling against his chest and using his shoulder as a pillow. He shrugged her off—he hadn’t paid the female to cuddle.

 

‹ Prev