Light

by Angel Payne

  “Looks like you’ve been busy, Aquaman.”

  “Errrmm…” He cocks his head, causing some of that deliciously damp hair to fall against his forehead. “The name’s Aqua Bolt, ma’am.”

  “Ahhh.” I can’t help another light laugh. “Yes, of course.” I quirk a mischievous smirk. “And is that what you told the kids to call you too?”

  “Right.” He snorts. “And you think they’d listen if I did?”

  I pop up a little straighter, not caring about the suds running down my bared breasts, as a semi truck of a thought slams my brain. “Shit. Ira and Mis—”

  “Had a blast,” he supplies. “Though we could have predicted that, based on how much they already enjoy bath time.”

  A smile blooms all the way up from my heart. “Well, I’ve seen them giving the pool some cautiously optimistic looks.”

  “And once I informed them that there was such a thing called ‘water ballet’…”

  I break out with a delighted chuckle—though my horrified gasp interrupts it as Mack truck number two barrels in. “Oh, but shit! I haven’t thought to get them swimsuits yet!”

  “Hey.” He scoops one of my hands into his. “Follow the directions, lady. Keep breathin’. Don’t worry. Angie bought them some cute suits during her dash into Malibu yesterday.” My instant reaction to that, a mix of relief and bewilderment, doesn’t slip by him for a second. I can tell because of the ruminative look that claims his own features. “I told her it was all right, Velvet.” His assurance is firm but gentle. “She’s been processing her reaction to the new intel about them.”

  “About Tyce being their true father.” I return his grip with some pensive squeezes. Get a swallow down that’s just as conflicted. “Of course,” I mumble. “I sensed as much during our estrogen and sangria fest this afternoon, but I didn’t want to pry, especially in front of the others.”

  Reece dips in to flow a tender kiss across my forehead. “Because your heart is that tender and your soul is that insightful,” he whispers. “And I know she probably felt your concern anyway. Your magic is a tough thing for anyone to ignore, beautiful.”

  I rock my head back, making it impossible for him to ignore where I want him to re-aim his kisses. “You’re being really gooey for a guy who probably spent the last hour being ruthlessly clobbered at Marco Polo,” I get in before our lips meet in a slick, sweet smack. “And being the enchanted water ballet prince.”

  Another wet kiss. A beam of his wider smile. “See? You are magic.”

  “And you’re full of a lot of mush talk.” I frame his jaw with my fingers, using the grip as leverage to push him back by several inches. “But maybe you just need to rip off the bandage here, Dr. Bolt.”

  His obvious bemusement backs him up by another inch. “Rip off the huh?”

  “Reece.” I roll my eyes. “Just stop.” Another roll, this time of my shoulders. More bubble residue dribbles down my chest, but I’m beyond caring about propriety at the moment. “And just give it to me straight. If Angelique wants to file for custody of the girls, then we have to agree that we won’t stand in her way. She’s just as entitled to—”

  I’m cut short by more rolling, though none of it’s my doing now. My husband moves in to consume my personal space with a push of his shoulders and then a plunge of his mouth, whirling his tongue deep inside me while working his grip around the back of my neck. A moan escapes my throat. Steamy heat invades my thoughts. Arousal drenches my blood. I’m assaulted by his passion, expressing itself in ever-changing sweeps and angles, enforced by the sensual lunges and turns of his jaw and lips…and soon, his shoulders and arms, as well. A savage sound curls up from the middle of his chest as he leans in more, engaging his body in as much of the ruthless invasion as he can. In return, I slide my slippery hands up his chest and then around his neck, clinging one around that beautifully muscled column while delving the other up and into his thick, luxurious hair.

  I’m still holding him that way, and he grips me with matching fervor, when our mouths finally break free from their fiery fusion. His gaze is a hypnotizing whirl of silver heat. His responding words are a stamp of noble vow—and violent promise. “Those girls are ours, Emmalina.” He clenches his jaw so hard, there’s an earthquake-worthy tick that appears in it. “That’s not my arrogance speaking—nor my selfishness or my righteousness or my belligerence.” He moves a hand around mine. Guides it from his neck to the center of his chest. “That’s my heart, declaring what I know is the right thing for them. Our family.”

  A tear-weighted sigh leaves me—one of several that have broken out since he started talking, though I’ve kept them subdued so as to not interrupt him. So as to not stop the declaration that vibrates my soul more than any other magnificent thing he’s ever declared to me. The love he’s committing to with such trust and grace, I’m drowning in the force it. Overwhelmed by the beauty of it.

  At last, I’m able to form my lips around words of my own. “I know all of that too, my love. And I believe all of it just as thoroughly.” With a small wince, I press my fingertips harder into the valley between his massive pecs. “But we can’t just dismiss Angie—”

  “And nor should we.” His dedication to the statement is as plain as his others. “And she already knows that too; I’m sure of it. She sees how Lux already looks after them and how caring for him in return is a source of comfort for them.” A deeper solemnity takes over his gaze. “And I think she also knows that they’ll thrive more with the stability of a family rather than being at the mercy of whatever her life holds for now.” The seriousness flees as a curious chuckle takes hold of him, reacting to the sharper one I’ve already tossed out. “What?” he finally prods past his twitching lips.

  My own mouth, still surrendering to humorous twitches, calms enough to volley, “You really went there, didn’t you?”

  “Went where?”

  “Called our life stable?”

  He submits to a full snort. “Well, at least I accomplished my mission.”

  I arch both brows. “There was a mission?”

  He nods. “To finally rescue my fair damsel from her brood over the Scorpio invasion.”

  My cheeks heat as I stare up at him in new awareness—and a hell of a lot of chagrin. Oh, God. I took the man’s hospitality and cordiality toward Atticus as total acceptance of their presence here and then let my anxiety cloud my mind from thoroughly thinking it all through.

  Like considering that maybe Reece was acting out his part as much as I was mine.

  Like realizing he has just as many reasons—no, more—as me to be skeptical of the Scorpios’ new “arrangement” with us.

  Like trusting that he’s instructed Wade, Alex, and Fershan to lock away certain aspects of our intel until we comprehend the full scope of what the cartel is willing to share with us in return.

  Like anticipating that he’s going to regard me exactly as he does now, staring through my eyes and right into all the fears of my heart and have just the right words to say to that anxiety.

  “Concern isn’t something you have to go through alone, Velvet.”

  Words exactly like that.

  “We’re in this together, baby—and we have an incredible team of support to help us out.”

  And yeah…that too.

  “I know.” I owe him at least those words in return—especially because all of my spirit gets poured into them. “I know.” All of my trust, my fortitude, my faith—which I feel Reece absorbing and understanding, despite the subtle tightness that persists at the corners of his eyes.

  At last, he murmurs back, “But…” And draws out the word until it lilts up, intimating a question.

  I haul such a deep breath in, it makes the water slosh. “But what if it’s not enough?” I finally rush out—and don’t plan on stopping there, now that it’s honest confessions time. “What if Atticus doesn’t really want to get Faline? What if they’re still cozier than a pair of drunk girls in a rideshare and this is their way of robbi
ng the new driver? What if—”

  He silences me with a kiss. This one’s brief and brutal, but my heart skips for so many beats that I’m forced to listen as my breaths catch up to the rest of my system.

  “Half-credit points for getting one word right,” he tells me. “Driver is right—which means that no matter what the drunk chicks in the back are doing, we’re still controlling the route and speed here.” From his position, still looming forcefully over me, he dunks his hand into the water and scoops my own inside it. “And I’m not leaving any fucking part of that equation to chance, either.”

  My lips part in conjunction with the fresh ferocity in his gaze. “Meaning…what?” I manage to babble out.

  The fierce silver fires get liquefied and then poured into blade molds. “Strength in numbers,” he explains as they harden into truculent daggers. “As we speak, Sawyer and the Bommers are calling in a few more old friends. A guy named Zeke is flying down from Seattle, and Tait contacted someone named Kellan, whom he calls ‘brother close.’ Guess that guy’s bringing a gal named Lani, who can hold her own with a knife and a gun. She’s married to one of them, I think—or maybe both of them, if I was really listening right…”

  His narrowed gaze of confusion has mine expanding the other direction. “Well, this should be interesting.” I conclude with a little laugh because I can afford to. Because I know, without a shred of doubt, how seriously he’s been taking all of this all along—and because I don’t want to think about how ashamed I am for thinking he wasn’t.

  “Oh, that’s just the beginning of interesting.” He flashes his finest rogue’s smile as soon as I tilt a curious glance that has me feeling like a cute puppy greeting card. “We’ve got even more enforcements on the way,” he explains. “I called Aliz and Kain and asked if they’d be interested in trial positions with us, starting right away.”

  Screw the cute puppy dog card. I’m now the animated oh-hell-yes celebration card—albeit the not-safe-for-work kind, since I pop my chest and more out of the water to yank him into a wet, delirious kiss—in more ways than just the obvious. “You’re right,” I gush, my damp lips still on his. “That’s interesting on crack. And I’m beyond in love with you for it.”

  I set myself up for one of his snarky Star-Lord lines, meant to charm me and disarm me at once. I am not ready for his adorably humble half smile and the dismissive dip of his head.

  “Well, it kind of made sense, right?” he asks—making me wonder if he’s also about to demand if his butt looks big in his black and gray board shorts. “Kainalu can put all that technical prowess to work and learn the ropes from Fersh and Alex. And did you know Aliz used to be an au pair for several Bavarian nobles?”

  “I didn’t,” I offer with a widening smile. “But that fits.”

  Having taken advantage of my mermaid lunge out of the water and gotten a solid grip on my slick body, he secures his hold even tighter—before hoisting me all the way out of the water. I let out a startled yeep but don’t fight his move. Secretly, I even revel in it. As enticing as he is with the gee-whiz version of Star-Lord, he’s a straight-up ovary exploder as a seductive Starfox.

  And freaking gawd, what a perfect evocation.

  As he cradles me against his gleaming, rippled torso, both of us dripping with the water and bubbles that have escaped the tub with me.

  As he wraps himself over and around me, turning my spine and ass into tingling lattices of sizzling sensation as he caresses them…pulses them…awakens them.

  As he dips in to hover his face over mine, his wet waves and his dark stubble turning him into a dark and dangerous water god.

  Dark, dangerous…and nearly naked.

  A fact I fight to keep out of my mind—so unsuccessfully—as the man roams his face yet closer, his lips seeming to ride potent trade winds across the surface of mine, his breaths coating me in hotter, heavier heat. “Of course it fits,” he husks, referencing my quip—though he’s as far from giving a quip as we are from Antarctica. “Just like we fit, Bunny.” He extends his sensual flight over my chin, across my cheeks, up the bridge of my nose, and all the way to my upper hairline. Once he reaches that point, he adds heart-halting nips of his lips…and his tongue. “Our souls. Our energies. Our passions,” he whispers as he goes, following a different path on his way back down to my lips…causing me to tremble in new, nerve-opening ways. “And our bodies.”

  I whimper with consuming craving from the second he speaks those last words against the front of my neck. I arch back, knowing the blunt offering I’m making of my suds-covered nipples, but I can’t help myself—just like I can never control myself once the man starts touching me. Awakening me. Worshiping me…

  “I was so hoping you’d say that.” My rasp, hoarse and needy, comes from places I hardly recognize—from the person I was before a trip through the Source irrevocably changed me. Enforced in me that every day is a gift, filled with moments to seize and savor. Yes, even moments like this. Especially moments like this, which are about more than the carnal pleasure for the taking.

  They’re about the giving too.

  Offering myself, bared in body and soul, for his full consummation and pleasure.

  Opening myself, emotionally as well as physically, for the glowing completion of his touch.

  Exposing myself, to the core of my sex and the center of my heart, for the full, hot penetration of his.

  Oh dear God, I certainly hope so…

  “I always know what you want to hear, my beautiful bunny.” His rumble is so delicious and deep, my ovaries start splintering again—especially as he uses the pause to rearrange our positions. By the time I drag my senses out of their Bolty-growl stupor, my ass is parked where his just was, with my thighs spread and locked by his possessive grip. Reece is on his knees before me, as magnificent as a conquering gladiator, the mountainous muscles of his torso gleaming with humidity and lined by water drips…with his masculine V arrowing my sights down to his glorious erection.

  I swear to every higher power there is…this man’s penis alone qualifies him for superhero status.

  I plan on saying as much after hungrily licking my lips, but my stunning husband cuts in once more with his decadent, dominant snarl. “Now I want you to tell me what I want to hear.”

  One tangle of my stare with his, and I’m the magical mind reader now too. What I decipher brings a slow, sultry smile across the lips I’ve just shined with the tip of my tongue. “But you don’t want me to tell you, Zeus.” I murmur it while fitting my hands atop his…and urging his hold closer to the part of me that’s thrumming, aching, and dripping already. “You want me to beg you.”

  A new roll of thunder from the darkest storms deep inside him. “Fuck,” he grates. “Yesssss.” And then again, both words rougher and needier, as he works his hands down and in, stretching his long blue digits toward the golden honey at my center…

  “Em? Em?”

  Crap, crap, crap. As dire as the shout is, it definitely doesn’t belong to Reece. He’s become the stunningly still hunk between my legs, even managing to go stealth with his chuckle as I muffle my moan in the meat of his shoulder.

  “Baby girl, I’m sorry about this.” Lydia’s tone gets terser, though I don’t detect any come-now-someone’s-bleeding-or-dying notes in her call. “Reece told us you needed some alone time, and I really respect that, but unfortunately—ohhhh, holy shit!”

  I should be screaming in mortification, but as soon as my sister swings open the bathroom door with the gusto of Maria Von Trapp in the middle of “My Favorite Things,” only to be record-scratched into scented candles, dripping bubbles, and Ariana singing about dangerous living and rising temperatures, all I can do is explode in insane laughter. Luckily, Reece is right there with me. His chest is filled with hearty chuckles; his shoulders shake as he stuffs that exquisite erection back into his trunks. At the same time, I grab my après-bath robe and make haste about the decency factor, as well.

  “Okay now, missy,” I
chide. “We promise no more seared retinas for Auntie ’Dia.”

  “For now.”

  Lydia rewards Reece for his cocky taunt by dousing him with my “Coconut Lime Breeze” body spray. “Dick,” she mutters, earning her one of the warm, confident chuckles that always takes my breath away.

  In moments like this, the effect is made even better by the halo of gold energy I watch around the damp waves on his head. He’s my dark, beautiful angel. The hero who knows how to keep me safe and sane. The man who even shares my utterly twisted sense of humor—providing specific proof by looping an arm around ’Dia’s neck and then murmuring, “Come now, sweet sister. No need to turn this into a praise service. It is one of my finer features, but your sister can take care of making sure I know it.”

  “When I’m not interrupted.” I punctuate with a giggle, looking forward to ’Dia’s zinger in return.

  “That so?” She seesaws her accenting glower. “Maybe you’d better be glad it was me and not Mother.”

  Okay, any zinger but that.

  “Why the hell would it be Mom?”

  “Because she just called your cell—and like the good, decent sister I am, I picked up.”

  “And?”

  She folds her arms. Taps one foot. And prompts, “‘Annnnd, what did our beloved maternal unit tell you, oh honorable best little sister in the whole world?’”

  “Lydia!”

  She forgives me at once for the retaliation, which actually reverts my gut to its giant sewer ball of dread. Her insta-absolution can only mean she’s about to relay one really disgusting piece of news.

  “She and Dad have just cleared Malibu. They’ll be up here in half an hour.”

  Chapter Three

  Reece

  I never thought I’d ever hear a sound worse than Emma’s screams after hours of Faline’s torture. She’d already spent hours on the bitch’s table by the time I found out where she was, and when I finally broke into that lab inside the Consortium’s Rancho Palos Verdes complex, my woman’s pain had turned into a tangible beast on the air—a beast that had devoured my soul like no other torment before—or, I was damn certain, like no agony would again.