By a Thread

by Nyna Queen

  Just great! All she had wanted was to keep a low profile and stay out of trueborn affairs—and look how well that had panned out.

  Well, things didn’t always go as planned. Scratch that—they almost never did.

  Her fingertips traced the railing. What am I even doing here?

  Perhaps she should just take off and try to whack through on her own. True, Darken had promised her that they would try to help her, but what did she really have on it but his word? And what did she really know about Darken Dubois-Léclaire, to be honest? Sure, her body did a mad jig whenever he was close by, but that was neither here nor there.

  And even if he meant what he’d said, what if his brother was an asshole and decided a shaper wasn’t worth his efforts? What if he turned her over to the guardaí? What if—

  She sighed and squeezed the railing. Here they were again, the what-ifs that helped no one.

  A sharp knock on the room door jolted her out of her thoughts. It wasn’t the first knock either, but her tired brain had been a little slow on the process. Probably the maid freaking out about the bloody mess of clothes she’d left in that laundry basket.

  It knocked again, more persistently.

  Yes, yes, yes! Pushing herself off the railing, she turned back to her room to see who had such a dire need to speak to her—before said person bashed in the door.

  Alex leaped over the sill, skidded into the room and jerked back with a start when she almost bumped into Darken, who stood in the middle of the chamber, shrouded in the half-dark.

  Jester’s fucking grace! She hadn’t even felt his presence. So much for her physical state.

  Darken blinked. “I apologize,” he said slowly, “I didn’t mean to intrude, but I knocked several times and when you didn’t react I thought you might have collapsed in the shower and—”

  His voice trailed off when his eyes caught her silhouette against the dark glass. They widened. It made her realize that she was still wearing this flimsy piece of nothing, which revealed a lot more than it covered. Heat burned her cheeks, but there was nothing to cover herself with.

  Darken took her in, his gaze slowly wandering from her face down to her neck, to the barely concealed swell of her breasts, down her stomach and her legs and, finally, back up to the dark triangle indicated between her legs. And then Darken turned feral.

  She saw the change in his eyes: they flared up like two lit torches and heat surged through the room, pressing against her naked skin with hundreds of fiery teeth, taking her breath away.

  A violent shiver racked his body.

  Alex took an automatic step back. Big mistake!

  Darken snapped upright and fixed on her with predatory focus. A red sheen rolled over his irises.

  Shaper instinct kicked in and Alex froze, instinctively aware that one movement, a mere twitch of her finger, might provoke him to pounce.

  She swallowed.

  Darken’s eyes fastened on her throat. On the pulse, she could feel throbbing through her skin. Hunger flickered in his gaze. A wild, feral, insane need that went beyond everything she’d ever seen before, and she wasn’t sure if it was hunger for her body—or her soul.

  She measured the distance to the balcony door from the corner of her eyes. Too far. He’d be on her before she’d taken two steps, even if she could pull out the spider, which she doubted.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  Darken took one step toward her—and stumbled backward against the wall behind him, one hand halfway risen as if to shield himself from her. His body trembled.

  “Go!” The word tore out of him in a ragged growl, so deep it barely sounded human. “Get out. Now!”

  Alex hesitated. The only reasonable thing would be to take to her heels and get the hell out of the room before the last thread on his self-control snapped. But she’d never considered herself part of the reasonable lot and … he looked so … pained. No, not just pained. Tormented. As if someone was hooking strips of flesh from his back and pouring salt into the wounds.

  Her sensory threads slipped from her, delicately probing the emotional currents in the room. Jerked back, stung. She almost whimpered. Over the musky, intoxicating flavor of his lust, she tasted pain, so sharp and stinging, she wanted to curl herself together like a newborn and cry.

  Sweet Jester, how is he standing it? Whatever was happening to him, it was causing him pure agony. She couldn’t have triggered this, or could she?

  Another convulsion shook his body and he pressed himself flat against the wall, face twisting.

  “Get out!”

  Alex bit her lip. She remembered him carrying her through the portal, burdening himself with her dead-weight, although he could have easily left her behind at the Dukes. And then he’d surged forward to meet seven attackers single-handedly to protect her and the kids. And now … bursting into her room because he’d thought she might have hurt herself …

  Whatever this was, there had to be something she could do to help him.

  “Alex.”

  She didn’t move, while she rummaged in the drawers of her memory. There was something … something her brothers had told her or that she’d overheard in a conversation. Something about his caste that hadn’t meant anything to the little spider but would to the grown woman. If only she could grip it by its tail.

  “Alex!”

  Finally, her groping mental fingers pulled out the right drawer and the memories tumbled out around her like building bricks out of a dusty cupboard, showering her with bits and pieces of picked up knowledge.

  Forfeits needed to kill. They had to. Not just because their magic was compelling them to do so, but because they needed the physical relief the blood-letting produced from the mounting pressure their magic caused inside them, just the way a cutter brought a knife to her skin to release some of her inner tension.

  Yes, they needed an outlet. Yet killing wasn’t the only way to provide relief from that physical tensions that was driving them toward violence. If what people said was correct, sex could provide a comparable effect, at least to a certain level.

  She glanced at Darken, who was shaking so hard every muscle was bound to be sore in the morning.

  Well, there was her answer. She could help him. The questions was, did she dare?

  She’d heard rumors. Now that the floodgates of her memory stood open, they all came crashing back at her. The slippery remarks. The disgusted gazes. Whispers about broken bones and bitten body parts. About women so torn apart that they needed a gene analysis to identify what was left of them.

  A male who desperately wanted a kill was a dangerous bedmate to play with.

  They said joining a forfeit for a ride was to lock hands with the devil: burned fingers guaranteed.

  But what could she say? She’d always liked to play with fire. It was a risk and she simply couldn’t resist the urge. Those who played it safe never won anything, right?

  Of course, in this case, she could also lose everything, including her own little life, miserable though it might be. She wasn’t a fool. If she did this, she would have to submit to whatever he did to her. Every instinct told her that if she resisted in any way she would end up like all the women in those twisted rumors. Might end up like them, anyway.

  Oh, come on sugar, it’s not like you haven’t thought about it since he teased you in that fucking car.

  Now all those sweet little fantasies had turned into dangerous reality. This was her chance to dip her toes into these waters. No guilt. No strings attached.

  At the wall Darken hunched over, sucking air through clenched teeth. He was hanging on a brittle thread that could snap any moment. She had to make a decision. And she had to make it fast.

  Alex raised her chin.

  She could do this.

  For him. For both of them.

  Taking a deep breath, Alex crossed the room.

  Slowly, sugar, she reminded herself. Just keep it slow. Fast movements provoked the killing instinct and if he felt challenged by her in any w
ay he would jump her in a heartbeat. Calm and passive—those were her keys to survival.

  The blatant relief on Darken’s face when she finally moved changed to something close to panic, when he realized that she had no intention to leave the room.

  No time for second guessing now.

  Alex stopped a foot from him. She could feel the heat rising off him in waves. Her nerves tingled with excitement.

  Keeping her movements calm and deliberate, like she would with any loaded predator, she reached up and opened the top button of his black shirt. Darken stood so still, she wasn’t sure he was even breathing.

  Not daring to give herself time to overthink this, she quickly worked her way down, keeping her eyes fixed on his chest. When all the buttons were open, she smoothed the shirt away with both hands, so that it slipped down his shoulders into the crooks of his arms, revealing his hard, gold-tinted chest. Smooth skin stretched tight over muscles corded with utmost tension. Jester’s grace, the man looked forbidden.

  Tentatively, she stretched out her hand. Touched his skin. Darken closed his eyes and shuddered.

  Alex let her fingers run over his burning chest, along his collar bone, to his right nipple. When she stroked it, Darken sucked in a sharp breath.

  Leaning forward, she closed her mouth over it and let her tongue glide over the hard tip. Darken moaned, a sound somewhere between intense pain and pleasure. Every inch of his body tightened, muscles standing out like steel cords under his skin. His fists clenched so hard they shook at his sides. If he’d held something inside them, it would have snapped.

  “Go,” he rasped. It was almost a plea.

  Ignoring the desperation in his voice, Alex breathed on his hot skin, while her fingers slid deeper, in slow circles, sliding over the tight expanse of his abs, along the thin strip of dark hair running from his navel down to the waistband of his pants—

  Darken’s hand jerked, closing over hers with restraining force. Alex froze. Peered up at his face.

  Her stomach flipped, and a bolt of panic zipped through her. He was watching her from wild, glazed eyes. They captured her, pulled her in, until she teetered on the brink of the abyss and the next moment would decide if she would plunge or soar.

  His lips curled back in a vicious snarl. “You should have run when I told you!”

  He moved faster than she could blink. His hands gripped her shoulders and suddenly she was pushed against the wall, so hard it knocked the wind out of her. His fingers dug into her upper arms, tight enough to bruise, while he trapped her with his body.

  One hand came forward and buried in her hair, forcing her head back. Then his mouth was on hers, hot, demanding, forceful, his teeth grazing her lips. She hesitated only a second before she opened her mouth for him. His tongue darted inside, greedily taking the invitation. He tasted of fire and sky and dangerous adventures in the center of exploding stars, masculine and reckless. Every cell in her body sparked in response.

  For a moment she stayed passive, letting him think he had full control, then she counterattacked, letting herself of the chain. Her tongue drew back, then forth, teasing, tasting, challenging his claim on her, while she rubbed herself against him.

  He growled. It was a deep guttural sound, born from pure primal desire and lust. His hand tightened in her hair and he pulled her closer to him. The hard bulge of his erection pressed against her belly and it both frightened and aroused her. Great Mother, he was so hard. She didn’t know how he could get any harder.

  The kiss lasted forever, a wild, thrilling dance on the edge of a knife and when he finally pulled back, her legs were shaking, and she felt light-headed.

  Before she could catch her breath, her feet were swept out from under her and she landed on the bed. Darken was above her immediately, pouncing on her like a panther on his prey, pressing her into the mattress with his weight.

  Jester’s grace!

  His hands gripped the sides of her kimono with a snarl and the sheer fabric tore under the force. Ah, well, the flimsy thing had barely covered anything in the first place.

  Through his pants, Alex could feel Darken’s cock digging between her legs. Fabric. Too much fabric between them.

  In a sudden urge to feel his skin against hers with nothing separating them, she frantically pulled at his shirt sleeves, yanking them free of his tattooed arms. His shoes and pants followed, until he was completely naked.

  For a second, he towered above her, knitted from golden fire and shadowy darkness. Then he was on her again, one hand locking her wrists above her head, while he kissed her with a desperation that bordered on insanity. As if he was dying from thirst and she was his only redemption.

  She’d expected him to take her hard and fast, to get his relief and be done with it.

  Instead, now that he had trapped her in bed, he took his time, stroking, kissing, licking, and nibbling his way up and down her body, until she was wet, until she moaned and arched her hips toward him, eager for the feel of him inside her. It was the sweetest torture.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it a moment longer, he finally slipped into her in one long fast stroke, stretching her from the inside.

  Alex gasped.

  His hips ground against hers, pinning her to the sheets. And then the game began anew.

  Darken let his free hand roam over her body, cupping her breast and rubbing her nipple, suckling the skin below her collar bone, while he lazily moved inside her, teasing her toward the edge, but never above it.

  Up and down. Up and down.

  Alex moaned and curled her toes, desperate to respond to the tormenting pleasure mounting inside her, but unable to move, since he was still keeping her restrained.

  Up and down, up and down.

  If her hands had been free and the spider within reach she would have killed him. This was about control. About power. He had it all and she had none.

  Since she couldn’t get her arms out of his deadlock, she did the only thing she could: she raised her head and bit into his shoulder.

  Darken’s head yanked up, eyes flaring. He snarled. Alex hissed back at him.

  A low, raspy chuckle rolled from his mouth. His free hand closed around her throat. Fear spiked her like a hot needle, but instead of strangling her, he merely held her in place, brushing his thumb along her lower lip. Predatory amusement glinted in his eyes.

  “Such a snappy little spider.”

  The pressure of his fingers tightened, and he thrust into her.

  Alex cried out, more in surprise than pain. He thrust again and again, quickly falling into a strong steady rhythm, that was riding her up, higher and higher. She lost herself in his thrust, losing all thoughts, losing her mind, unable to hold onto anything but the feel of him moving inside her.

  His hot breath touched her cheek, sending shivers of lightning over her skin.

  “Come, spiderling,” he breathed into her ear in a low, husky murmur. “Come for me.”

  He let go of her arms and pushed into her. Taking advantage of her freedom, Alex grasped his shoulders, digging her fingers into his back and arched herself toward him, while the pleasure inside her mounted and mounted.

  With a sharp smile, Darken leaned back and thrust into her, hard. Harder. Harder. The world exploded in a cascade of bliss. Alex screamed his name and shuddered, sending him over the edge with her, before they both collapsed on the sheets.

  THE sweet touch of early morning sunlight roused Alex from a deep, dreamless sleep. A comfortable heaviness coated her limbs and for a moment she just lay there, with her eyes closed, enjoying the gentle caress of the sun on her face, while holding on to the threads of sleep that were slowly unraveling around her.

  His scent still lingered in the air, the memory of his touch warming her skin just as much as the invisible fingers of the sun playing on her exposed limbs.

  With a drowsy smile, she rolled onto her back. But when she reached out to the side, the space beside her was painfully empty.

  Her eyes
snapped open and she was halfway up sitting when she spotted him on the balcony.

  Darken stood outside in nothing but his black pants, his bare chest gilded by the morning sun.

  Something inside her relaxed a little. Sinking back to the sheets, Alex rolled onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow, head resting on her hand, and watched the sun working its golden brush on the artwork of his body, painting lights and shadows along his sculpted frame: his hard chest, the muscles cording on his back, the hipbones just peeking out of the waistband of his pants. It danced on the tattoos winding up from the backs of his hands along his forearms to join between his shoulder blades like the edges of dark wings. A complicated tangle of lines and knots, fluid and alive.

  So beautiful.

  A gust of wind playfully tugged at the rakish mess of his hair.

  Alex grinned. It was exactly how she’d pictured him to look after a night like this.

  His eyes were trained at the distance, hands resting easily on the rail. He looked … relaxed. More at ease than she’d ever seen him since they met.

  Well, granted, that wasn’t hard since they’d mostly been running and dodging murder attempts. Still. It this moment of being completely unobserved, his face lost some of its harsh, haughty edges. It softened his features, stripping them of that cruel, cold aristocratic mask and leaving him absolutely dashing.

  That’s a sight I could wake up to every morning.

  Alex frowned. She wasn’t quite sure where that thought had come from, but of course, it was utterly ridiculous. They barely knew each other! Not to speak of the fact that most of the time they had trouble not to have a go at each other’s throats. Yet last night was still in her bones and it made her giddy. Giddy and dizzy and hungry in ways she hadn’t felt in a long time, and when she looked at him …

  Oh, sweet Jester!

  As if feeling the touch of her gaze, Darken turned. For a second his eyes caught the sun rays, turning them from dark brown into soft, warm, molten gold. Her pulse sped up and she knew she was blushing.