Creature of Habit: Book Two (Creature of Habit #2)

by Angel Lawson

  He was more adamant now, bolstered by his argument. I felt my own fear trickling through my veins, cold like his touch, but it was now or never. We were at a crossroads and if I didn’t get through to him, I would lose him forever. "I'm willing to risk it. Whatever it takes. For you. For us. For the future."

  Grant shook his head slowly, defiantly. "No, you don't mean that."

  I rose to my knees and traveled across the bed until I was face to face with him, close enough to smell his familiar, enticing scent and feel the overwhelming desire to lift my palm to his skin. I promised, "Grant, I do. If the time comes and you have to make a choice, understand, my choice has been made. Every time. It comes back to you."

  I willed him to understand. To hear the sincerity of my words.

  Slowly closing his eyes, he pressed his forehead to mine, his oversized hands gripping my hips. Quietly, he whispered, "You can't love me that much."

  I wound my arms around his neck, tugging him closer. "I love you more than that." He winced at my words and weakly attempted to push me away.

  "I don't know if I can inflict this life on someone else. I'm sorry, Amelia. It's because I love you so much. Losing you is a risk I can’t take."

  I lifted his face and forced his gaze to mine. His eyes were despondent and cold. His hair was wild, like his mood, and everything about him was painfully, devastatingly beautiful. He was truly the most exquisite creature I'd ever laid eyes on. I can’t believe I ever held him in my grasp.

  Finding the last bit of conviction I could manage, I challenged, "If you love me. Show me."

  “Letting you go is how I show you that I care.”

  "No. You owe me more than that, Grant. You can leave me, but not before you show me you love me." I was close to begging. Throwing myself at him. Desperation consumed my words and every rational thought.

  Comprehending my true intentions, he insisted, "It's wrong."

  "Fuck wrong. Fuck safe." I threw myself at him, gripping the thin, worn material of his shirt. His eyes had grown fierce at my challenge and I felt myself slipping, clinging to him. Lacing my fingers in his thick dark hair, I pulled his head towards me and breathed low in his ear, "Fuck. Me."

  The deep rumble that echoed through his chest shook me, but I kept my fingers tucked in his hair, refusing to surrender.

  Grant's eyes widened at the vulgarity of my words. I felt heat run up my ears, but refused to back down. I was willing to play dirty and obviously so was he, I realized, wincing as his hands tightened around my hips, his thumbs digging deeper into my flesh.

  Fearing I may have pushed him too far, I braved a final attempt. "Love me, like I know you do. I'm a woman and can make my own choices. If you won't consider eternity with me, consider giving me what I want right now. One night."

  My words hung in the air, our bodies connected with fire, warming in the friction between our skin. Despite the conflict that warred in his eyes, he lowered his face to my neck and inhaled deeply. He spread his nimble fingers across my back, slipping them under the hem of my shirt and caressed the skin there. I shuddered at the sensation of his cool fingertips pressing into my heated flesh. I scraped my teeth down his neck, stopping at his collarbone to suck on his skin. He could deny our future, destiny, or fate, but he couldn't deny the fact his body wanted mine. Every part was charged and ready, fueled by the pain and desperation of the night. The only thing that stopped him was his mind. His mind wouldn't let go.

  "I love you," I promised, licking his pursed lips once before scooting backwards and inching towards the headboard. He remained rigid for a moment, his eyes closed…struggling. I waited patiently, terrified he would run. He remained still—silent. My heart thundered in my chest begging him not to leave.

  With a heavy sigh he relented, following me like I'd hoped, crawling over the rumpled bedding and hovering over my legs. When his face was inches from mine, he hesitated.

  "I love you," I murmured, stroking his cheek, coaxing him to me. He caved, tentatively blessing my face with butterfly kisses. Craving the feel of him, I pushed my hips upward, rising in the air, seeking him.

  I heard and felt the deep rumble that vibrated in his chest as he let his fingers wander over my threadbare nightshirt. Sinking back into the pillow beneath me, I relaxed and willed him to take me. I cupped his face in my hands and repeated, "I love you," over and over again to the man I truly and purely loved.

  “Your scent,” he mumbled, inhaling deeply. “It changes when you say that.”

  A tremor tore through his body, trembling like an earthquake. It was as if a switch suddenly flipped and decision overrode all of his other emotions. His eyes darkened, his jaw locked, and his hands moved quick and eager. He swiftly pulled off his shirt, sitting before me like a god chiseled out of stone. Before I had a chance to react, he reached for the collar of my shirt and tore it straight down the front. Cool air rushed over my skin, my nipples rising in reaction. Grant licked his lip and stared.

  “Jesus,” I said, exposed and completely, utterly aroused.

  He quirked an eyebrow and said, “You owed me a shirt,” before lunging forward. In an instant his mouth was pressed against mine, his hands and hips crushing us into the headboard.

  Desperation must have taken hold, bringing forth a different Grant. The reluctance from our other times together vanished. There was no cajoling. No begging. He kissed me hard and dipped his fingers beneath the fabric of my panties. I touched him back, feeling the length of his erection.

  Breaking away from our kisses he muttered through a series of hisses, "I don't want to hurt you."

  I smiled wistfully down at him, believing it was too late, because he'd already hurt me with his attempt at abandoning us. Abandoning me and the love we shared.

  "You won't," I guaranteed, having a blind, yet absolute faith that he wouldn't – not physically, at least.

  I reached down and slid my panties off my legs before taking control and straddling him bare. I swallowed back at how right it felt as my body sought to connect to his. I fumbled with the button of his pants, unsure how to proceed. I hadn't lied earlier. I was all in, but we were close to risking everything right here, right now, and I couldn't be certain if he was really, truly ready.

  "Ready?" I breathed shakily, distracted by the feeling of his hands as they traced the curves of my breasts. His fingers felt like satin rushing over my skin. He paused on the blood red stone hanging around my neck, plucking it from my chest.

  "No," he said, and in a flash he was gone from under me, my heart on the verge of splitting into a million, unrecognizable pieces. But before I could fully process his absence, he returned, sliding under me, his pants removed. He settled me back like we were before, only now flesh to flesh.

  "Ready," he breathed, unaware of my near-meltdown.

  "Oh," I choked, my face flushing with humiliation. I raised my eyebrow in approval before running my hands over the sharp angled V of muscles just below his waist.

  "Tell me, if it's too much," he demanded and flinched as I lifted up and reached for him.

  I nodded, willing to agree to anything. "You tell me if it's too much."

  He nodded, grimacing from either pain or pleasure. Maybe both.

  Bending to press my lips to his, I crushed my body to his chest, eager and humming with anticipation. Grant ran his cool hands down the sides of my waist, floating over my skin with a delicate and tender touch. When he reached my hips, he lifted me like a feather over his upright erection. Our eyes met and I fell deep into them, swallowed by the desire and love they held. Slowly, too slow for me, but just right for him, he lowered me, inch by inch, until he filled the space between us. I closed my eyes, reveling in the connection, adjusting to him being in me with deep breaths. He was big and hard –really hard– but he felt like he should: Perfect.

  "Okay?" I heard and glanced down, catching the intense gaze of the angel beneath me.

  "More than," I confirmed and rocked my hips ever so gently, feeling him inch deepe
r inside. Grant's hands dropped from my hips and fisted the sheets. The sound of tearing fabric cut through our breathing. After a couple precarious seconds I said, “Follow my lead.”

  I shifted my weight, thrusting my hips into his, slowly, fluidly, while running my nails over his abs. I watched as his tongue darted out of his mouth, and his brow furrowed in deep concentration. His hand left the bedding and reached into my hair, pulling out the tie that held it back. Long blonde strands spilled over my shoulders, pooling onto his chest when I kissed his lips.

  "Oh!" I gasped, when I felt his icy touch dip behind my backside brushing against sensitive nerves. My body lurched involuntarily; causing him to slip from me and removing the pressure and friction I'd already begun to crave like a drug. Grant's other hand gripped my shoulder, bringing me down harder, pushing me back into place. In a heartbeat the slow pace from before had vanished and he drove himself into me with a solid, breathtaking thrust.

  “More,” I breathed, matching his pace and carefully watching his expression. Every look, every touch conveyed a sense of worship.

  His thrusts quickened and I closed my eyes, focusing on the feeling of this man inside me, on his fingers coaxing me into submission. I focused on the experience I may never have again. Grant's breaths came quick and fast, mimicking his body. I whispered his name, luring him over the edge and quickly realizing I would topple first. My stomach clenched, like a tightly wound thread, which began to unravel, loop by loop. The heat spread, pulsating though my lower body as I gritted my teeth in impending ecstasy. My nails dug into Grant's chest and I heard a sharp intake of breath followed by a terrifying feral sound, in response to my body tightening around him. My eyes flew open at the noise but I was too weak, too euphoric to process that his tongue had move from the edge of my nipple and stopped just below my ear. My heart pounded, thundering rapidly in my chest as his lips caressed my neck. Goose bumps of pleasure erupted over my flesh when the cool air hit the slick, wet surface left by his tongue.

  The softness shifted. His hands and mouth bore down, heightening the feeling and I arched my back.

  Two sharpened teeth pressed down against my skin.

  "Hey," I said, snapping out of my haze. A roar rumbled through his chest, so deep and vibrating that I felt it tremble through my own body. I slipped my hands between us and pushed back. “Grant!”

  “Mine!” he growled.

  I shoved my hands into his hair, jerking him hard so he'd met my gaze. He blinked twice and I held my breath when he pressed two fingers over my heart.

  “Not today, baby,” I said. “Stay with me.”

  He closed his eyes and muttered under his breath. I couldn’t hear the words but they came out like a chant. I was about to run when he looked at me and said, “I’m here.”

  “Of course you are.” He was still hard inside of me and I wanted to see this through. “Can you do this? Can you finish?”

  “Please.”

  I rocked my hips, luring him back to the moment. To the act of sex, not death. His eyes gradually adjusted and returned their focus to mine, to my body. Alarmingly, his slip hadn't decreased his arousal, but quite the opposite, and I felt him swell inside. With a final thrust of his hips, he groaned, releasing everything he had before dropping his head onto my shoulder, burrowing his face in my hair.

  Pushing his languid body back on the pillows, I crawled over him, curling up against his side in a ball. He lifted his hand and ran his finger over my chest, resting his palm against the warm spot over my heart. We rested together, the minutes ticking by as my heart slowed, calming from the exhilaration of our lovemaking. I squeezed my eyes shut, hiding from his scrutiny and whatever expression his face held. I couldn't bear to look at him and was too afraid to speak.

  He'd done what I asked. He'd proved his love to me in the most intimate, difficult way. And now it was time for me to face my fears.

  Sitting up, I leaned over him, placing my lips on his chest and kissed him over the place where his heart should beat. I gathered my courage one, final time. Running my fingers over his sharp jaw, I whispered gratefully, "Thank you," before sliding to the edge of the bed. He'd fulfilled my request, and I could now do the same for him. I would walk away.

  A thick, pathetic sob built in my throat and stole my breath, trapping it in my chest. I glanced around the room, searching for my clothes and the fastest possible route of escape. Before I could fully rise from the bed, I felt it give beneath me, bouncing me upward slightly. Grant was no longer lying on the bed, but kneeling on the hard floors, his face buried in the soft flesh of my belly.

  "Don't," he croaked, a muffled plea against my skin.

  "I have to," I replied in a strangled whisper, blinking back the tears. "I promised." I fisted my hands in his hair as he wrapped his arms around my thighs, anchoring us to one another.

  "It's too late," he responded, tightening his grip on my legs painfully.

  I shook my head, overwhelmed by what I was going to do. "Just let me go, Grant."

  "I can't. Not now. Not ever."

  My heart, which had been racing since he’d first entered my bedroom, skipped a beat.

  "Never?" I ventured.

  "I thought I knew," he whispered, his eyes wide and full of wonder. "I thought I had an idea of love, and connection. I’ve watched it every day for countless years." His hair poked me in the stomach, tickling as he spoke. "I'd even said the words, spoken them in my mind, professed them to my family, but now, after that, I know."

  "What do you mean?"

  Grant lifted his head. "You're mine, Amelia Chase, and nothing and no one can tear me away from you."

  Epilogue

  I stood above Amelia, marveling at how her hair spread across the pillow like a glowing crown. A halo. Appropriate for an angel.

  She slept soundly, unaware of the tragedy of the night. The dead children. The torched camp. The trouble that will surely come our way.

  I slipped out of the room and entered my office, dialing the number as I shut the door. The phone rang and rang but no one answered. An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach.

  I pressed a different number and Miles picked up on the first ring.

  “Update?” I asked.

  “Fire and police are at the camp. Initial reports are of a gas leak.”

  “Good, that’s what they’re supposed to think.”

  “I’ve contacted The Council.”

  I muttered a string of profanities under my breath, but Miles heard each and every word. When I got it out of my system I asked, “And?”

  “And they’ll follow up. We’ll just have to see how.”

  “Perfect,” I replied, sarcasm implied. “Elijah?”

  “He and Ryan are out there now, looking for clues. Something to go on. If you’d—“

  “No,” I cut him off. “I’m not leaving Amelia. Not tonight.”

  A heavy moment passed through the phone. Something had changed. He probably sensed it. I waited for the lecture. The discussion on how to proceed. He’d want Amelia’s fate sealed quickly. In an effort to hold off on this topic I asked, “Where is Sebastian? I wanted to thank him for his assistance tonight.”

  “He never returned to the mountain.” There was a slight tension in his words.

  “He’s not answering my calls,” I said.

  “No, I expect not.”

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?” I asked, lowering myself to my desk chair. “Something I should know?”

  “Sebastian is struggling right now.”

  “I know,” I snapped. “He doesn’t approve of my choices.”

  “He needs some time, Grant. Allow him that.”

  “Time? Now? Olivia is missing!”

  “It’s unfortunate,” he agreed. But I hear the undertone. The disapproval. He blames me for Sebastian’s angst. Once again, the coven is at odds over my choices.

  “I can’t worry about Bass right now. I can’t. There are too many variables on the table that need my at
tention. Olivia first.”

  “Then do something, Grant. The clock is ticking.”

  His comment lit a fire in my brain. The clock is ticking.

  Tick-tock.

  Thanks & Stuff

  Quick thank you to everyone that helped get COH2 ready so quickly. All my beta readers (you know who you are) but in particular April and Vanessa for the heavy lifting. Thanks to all the amazing readers for Creature of Habit (Book 1). I’ve truly enjoyed hearing all of your thoughts! I’ve read every one.

  I’m knee deep in book 3 of the series. I am hoping it will be a fast turnaround but it will be more than 50% new material, which makes me nervous to put a publication date on it right now. Make sure you sign up for my mailing list to learn about release information! HERE! Mailing List