Furious Fire: Grimm's Circle, Book 8

by Shiloh Walker

  His heart thudded to a stop.

  His cock, already aching, started to pulse and throb in time with his heart as he stared at her.

  His next words were the hardest he’d ever spoken.

  “We can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” She jutted her chin up. “It can’t be because you don’t want me.”

  “It’s because…” He gritted his teeth together. “Becky, an unmarried woman doesn’t lie with a man like that.”

  “So you married the prostitutes you laid with? All five of them?”

  “I didn’t lie with anybody tonight,” he bit off. “If I fu—” He shut his mouth, swallowing back the words he never used around her.

  She pursed her lips and then, with a taunting, challenging smile, she offered, “If you fuck a prostitute?”

  He glared at her.

  She shrugged. “You and Sawyer have voices that carry and I do have a brain. I imagine I know more about fornication than many of my married friends do. So, answer me. Are you married to them or not?”

  “It’s not the same. They are whores. They take money for sex. That’s not what you are.” He closed the distance between them, fury and want screaming inside him. Did she think that was what he wanted from her?

  “I’m not asking for money.” She rose up on her toes and whispered in his ear. “I’m asking for you. I want you. You’re all I ever wanted, Tommy. Are you never going to learn that?”

  Then she settled back on her feet. Her cheeks were pink—he could see that blush even in the faint light the moon offered. But her eyes were direct, focused on him. Only Becky had ever looked at him like that. Like she could see all the way through him, and nothing she saw bothered her at all.

  And she still wanted him…

  “But perhaps that isn’t what you want,” she said when he remained silent. Her voice was sad. She nodded and turned.

  When he caught her in his arms, she gasped.

  Spinning her around, he twisted his hand in her hair, pulled. “You were always supposed to be the smart one,” he muttered right before he slanted his mouth over hers. This time, he couldn’t hold back the hunger and he kissed her with all the urgency and need he felt.

  As she groaned into his mouth, Thom had the sensation of drowning…like they’d somehow fallen into the river and the waters were rising over their heads. In too deep and he couldn’t keep up with the current. But damn if he cared.

  Her hands raced over his chest, hampered by his shirt and he reached between them, freeing the buttons. She whimpered her approval and he all but shouted his as she dragged her nails down his chest.

  Becky might be a lady, but she’d never been shy. Apparently, this was no different.

  Through the delicate cotton of her gown, her body was warm and soft and everything he wanted to touch and taste…and see. Catching a handful, he started to drag it up. Lifting his head, he watched her. She blinked at him, her tongue tracing her lips like she was still tasting him.

  “If we keep this up, you understand what’s going to happen, right?” He stared at her wet mouth and then cupped her face, traced his thumb along the plump curve of her lower lip.

  “Yes.” She smiled.

  “And then what?” Her gown was now at her waist, but as much as his body raged for more, he realized he needed that answer.

  She cocked her head. She slid one of the hands on his chest up, dipped it into his hair. That felt…amazingly good. He’d had women play with his hair before but it had felt nothing like this. But everything with her felt different. Everything with her was different.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What happens next?” he asked, forcing the question out. His alcohol-muddled brain gave him the courage to think about things, to want things…to ask for things he’d never allow himself to voice had he been completely sober. “You say you want me, and I don’t know if this is all you want. If it is, then I’ll give it to you and remember it for the rest of my life. But…”

  Her lashes swept low.

  Fear all but gutted him. She’d never want to be with him. Not him. Her father owned two businesses in their small town. They were successful. Thom’s father had run off when he was fourteen and his mother had sold herself more than once just to keep food on the table. Becky wouldn’t want him, even if he’d worked hard, bought himself a piece of land, had his own little house.

  But he had to ask. This one time, he had to ask, and he had to know.

  Pressing his cheek to hers, he whispered, “What do you want…after this?”

  She turned her face to his. Her mouth was soft, gentle. Then she slid the hand still on his chest over, just a little, until it covered his heart. “This,” she murmured. “When I said I wanted you, I meant all of you. I’m a greedy girl, you foolish man. Don’t you know that? I want you…tonight. I want your heart. Your always. You ask me what’s next…if I had my way, you’d show up at my door tomorrow and tell my father you want to marry me.”

  His hand tightened, twisted in the material of her gown. “Becky…” he rasped, shock rushing through him. Shock. Joy. Then… “He’d never allow it.”

  “You idiot. He told Mama a month ago if you didn’t ask soon, he just might drag you to the church himself.” She tangled her hands in his shirt, shook him gently. “I’ve refused every suitor who ever came to my door and he always knew why. So did Mama. She doesn’t approve, but Father says she’s forgotten what he was like…one of these days, maybe I’ll tell you how they met. But for now…”

  She stepped back and, reluctantly, he let go of her gown. And then, he almost went to his knees, because she’d caught the hem and whipped it over her head. “Now, if you would…” She held out her hand, a blush raging on her face. “I can’t have you changing your mind and running again. It took me too long to make you see the truth as it was. I don’t want anything pulling us apart again.”

  He said nothing, simply took the gown from her and spread it out on the ground. Then he caught her up in his arms and laid her down. Coming down on his knees beside her, he looked into her eyes and then he spoke. “Not even death could do that. Not now.”

  A smile danced on her lips, but it faded as he lowered his head and brushed a soft kiss against her.

  Not her lips, though. The soft, smooth slope of her shoulder. Then the swell of her breast. The fragile sweep of her collarbone. As he learned the delicate swells, the sweet curves, he freed himself from his weapons, leaving them near her head. He didn’t notice where he’d flung his shirt and vest, nor did he care. He didn’t bother to remove his trousers but he fought to tear them open, the aching swell of his cock a torturous form of pleasure.

  He settled between her thighs, his lips circling her naval.

  Her hands caught and tangled in his hair, though, as he tried to go lower.

  “What…” She licked her lips. “What are you doing?”

  He flashed her a grin. “You wanted all of me. I think it’s only fair I get the same.”

  Her mouth fell open.

  He ignored it and kept on moving.

  Her startled exclamation quickly became a moan, although she tried to squeeze her thighs together. Difficult, though, as he had her legs draped over his shoulders and her rump in his hands. Sliding one up her knee, he held her in place. “Shh…if you don’t like it,” he whispered, catching the hard nub between his teeth. Her breath caught and then she let out a broken, shaky moan. “I’ll stop.”

  He moved lower. When he moved his hand from her knee, she didn’t try to close her thighs. He used his fingers to part her flesh and then he pressed his mouth to hers. “Tell me if you want me to stop, Becky-girl,” he whispered teasingly as she bit back a cry and arched up.

  She tasted wild and salty and female. He slid his tongue around her entrance, then pushed inside. Her body quaked and he eased up, replacing his tongue with
his fingers. He could taste her all night long, but he wanted—no—needed more. He caught her clit again, carefully, teasing the peaked flesh with his teeth, his tongue, applying a light suction and when she started to rock up, meeting his mouth and fingers, he thought he just might have died a little. She was here. With him.

  When she started to come, he lowered her hips and stretched out atop her, even as the orgasm shuddered through her body. “What…why…” She blinked up at him, gaze half-blind. “Why are you stopping?”

  “I’m not.” He caught one hand, twined their fingers, keeping his weight braced on his elbow. “This will hurt, darling girl. I’m sorry.”

  Then, as her gaze started to clear, he used his free hand to grip his cock and settle himself at the hot, wet core of her. He eased in, pleasure licking up his spine at the tight grip of her. Sweat beaded along his brow and he let go of his shaft, reached up to fist his hand in the grass near her hand, trying to find some measure of control.

  “That…” She licked her lips. “That’s not so bad.”

  A pained laugh escaped him. Pressing a kiss to the delicate skin behind her ear, he whispered, “I’m not quite done, Becky.”

  Then he eased out before surging deeper inside, almost halfway.

  A startled gasp escaped her as she tensed up.

  Eyes closed, he forced himself to ask, “Should I stop?”

  “Don’t you dare.” Her nails bit into the skin of his back.

  A desperate growl escaped as he withdrew, and with one hard, deep thrust, he buried himself completely inside. At the same time, he covered her mouth with his, swallowing her pained, shock cry. She trembled, shuddered. He kissed, tried to soothe.

  “The worst is done,” he said against her mouth, trying not to think about how sweet she felt around him, the wet heat of her a fist around his cock. “The worst is done.”

  He lifted his head to look at her. A shaky smile curved her lips. “If that is the worst, then please show me the best.”

  “Oh, I intend to.” Catching her lower lip between his teeth, he tugged gently as he started to move, slow and easy, ignoring the urge to plunge deep, ride her as hard and fast as his need rode him. “I intend to do that and so much more, Becky-girl.”

  Her eyes locked on his as she smiled, a rich, lush curve of her lips. “Lovely…”

  That connection, in that moment, had seared him to his soul.

  More than a hundred years later, he could recall that night in vivid, almost painful detail.

  Less than a month later, he’d left her.

  Two years later, she was lost to him…forever.

  Here, now, more than a century and a half later, he stared at another woman, one who was a stranger to him. And he felt that gut-deep connection.

  It all but tore out the heart he had no use for.

  There were emotions clashing inside him that belonged only to one woman. Setting his jaw, he forced his face into impassive lines and focused on Will. “This isn’t the place for her. If you can’t send her anywhere, then send me…” He gave the demon a shark’s smile. “And that waste of an existence. I’ll deal with it while you find someplace safe for her.”

  Will’s only answer, for the longest time, was to lower his head and stare at the floor.

  Finn was used to long, brooding silences from that one. The lack of anything verbal didn’t surprise him.

  But then, when Will finally did look up and speak, that was what shocked him. “She stays,” he said, his tone remote. Almost…bored.

  “What?” Fire flamed inside Finn and for the first time in over a century, it almost slipped his control. It didn’t just rage under his skin, the flames flickering and rolling like a red wave, but there was steam rising from him and the very air around him began to waver as it became supercharged, superheated.

  She can’t die—

  Voices swelled, raged.

  He slammed back a flood of memory. No. This wasn’t like those times—any of those times. He didn’t know this woman, and all he had to do was convince Will to get her away from this mess, so she wasn’t surrounded by a threat he couldn’t see, yet he sensed with every fiber of his being.

  An icy wave slammed against him, a shock of cold that chilled him despite the fire spiraling within.

  Will’s voice cut through his mind.

  “Don’t. You know what I have to do if you lose control again. Don’t.”

  With a vicious pull, he yanked the fire under control. The heat of it all felt like it would burn him to ashes, from the inside out. His own fire couldn’t harm him, a fact he knew all too well. It did feel like it would drive him mad.

  “This is insane,” he said, his voice hardly more than a growl.

  “I can’t leave.” Will focused on the demon. “Our friend has already been missed. They’ll move quicker now, because they’ll know we’re here. I need to focus on bringing others in, not on one lone mortal.”

  “One lone mortal.” Finn curled a hand into a fist. “It wasn’t that long ago that you told me when we stop caring about those we failed to protect, then we’re done…tell me, Will…are you done?”

  Will’s silver eyes flashed. “If only I had that choice.” Then he focused on the demon. “You, however…are.”

  Chapter Ten

  It cut me, like a blade. For one moment, he stared at me and I felt a connection that reverberated all the way down to my soul.

  In the next moment, as though all the light in him had been eradicated, his features became shuttered and the fiery gold of his eyes became cold.

  It hurt.

  I couldn’t remember a time in my life—this time or the others—when I felt so thoroughly rejected.

  I tried to console myself with the plain and simple truth that he likely didn’t know me. I looked nothing like the girl he’d known—and in truth, I really wasn’t her. There were bits and pieces of her in me, but each life I’d lived had twisted, fractured, then remade the parts of me.

  I was a far cry from that girl.

  Then…he’d called me Becky. Another fragment of memory came free and I remembered. I’d been Rebecca and he’d been all I’d ever wanted.

  At least that much hadn’t changed.

  But everything else had.

  I wasn’t her anymore.

  I was too hard.

  I’d seen too much.

  I knew too much.

  Still, I remembered…and even now, more and more memories broke free. The sound of his voice, teasing me as we raced our horses. Indistinct echoes of another voice, just as teasing—

  That face twisted away, out of my grasp before I could lock onto it.

  A headache pulsed, making my brain pound with brutal intensity inside my skull. Nausea twisted at me and I let the memories go. If I kept pushing, it wouldn’t help and I couldn’t afford to lose myself any more than I already had.

  Dully, I heard voices—one cool, almost icy. Then his, hard, harsh, angry. I shivered at the sound of it. He was close. So close.

  So was a demon. The oil-slick, foul feel of it stained the air, cloyed my lungs.

  It felt like too many pieces were falling into place. He was here. A demon was here. Did that mean it was time?

  Part of me braced for it.

  No, I didn’t feel like dancing on the side of a mountain with happiness, but for those few, brief moments as I’d looked at him, I had felt…something. He’d looked at me and I could have sworn he’d felt it too.

  It was better than nothing. I still wished for that moment of peace I’d come to expect, but it eluded me.

  It might not be time yet, but I wasn’t going to bet on anything just then.

  One thing was for certain—the demon here wasn’t any threat to me.

  As those voices continued to rage, the words still not clicking in my head, I stared at it with a m
outh gone dry.

  It no longer looked remotely human. I knew the bodies they took over were human. Something had to happen inside them, over time, some sort of physiological alteration—I had ideas of a demon X-Men sort of thing…the DNA altering, changing on a cellular level. I don’t know what it was, but something gave them strength beyond what we humans should have.

  But maybe I wasn’t a fair judge. I was stronger and faster than just about any human I’d ever come across and I had been all my life.

  Despite knowing all of that, I had no idea a demon could survive all of this.

  My gut wrenched horribly and I was glad it had been a while—probably too long—since I’d eaten. Violence doesn’t bother me. I hadn’t been old enough to vote when I killed my first demon this time around and ever since then, my goal in life had been to kill as many as I could, as fast as I could, since I already knew my time in this body was limited.

  No, violence didn’t bother me, but that body…

  “You son of a bitch, at least get her out of here and let me handle killing it.” Thom’s voice was a vicious, fiery slap against my senses and it forced me to drag my gaze away from the body that was a mess of broken bones, bruises and burns. At least, I thought they were burns. Blackened flesh, and the air smelled of charred meat. The burns stopped at the thing’s knees, exactly at the knees. That was so strange.

  Rising from the bed, I started to circle the room, still painfully aware of them arguing.

  “—give me orders, Finn.”

  I blinked at the bladed edge in Will’s voice, at the power that hummed under it. Scary bastard. I slid the two of them a look from the corner of my eye, saw that Thom—no. He seemed to go by Finn now. His last name. Perhaps he’d remade himself too. How…my head started to pound again and I focused once more on the room.

  “If you want to drag around another pet mortal, go ahead,” Finn bit off.

  It was a good thing I wasn’t facing them because I had to bite my lip to keep from saying anything. Since I still wasn’t sure when my status would go from annoying nuisance to not worthy of life in Will’s eyes, I’d rather not draw attention to myself.