by L. D. Rose
Cindel physically met Lawan’s penetrating gaze and inclined her head graciously. “Thank you.”
The hybrid didn’t acknowledge her gratitude. “I’ve got some ground rules, Queenie. Don’t ever enter the basement or leave the building without our consent. Ever.”
Cindel stiffened, a sense of déjà vu crashing over her.
Was this yet another prison?
“We keep blood in the church. You have to let us know when you’re hungry. But only if you absolutely need it. Like, you’re dying.”
They must’ve had a supply like Dax. “How do I reach you?”
“Don’t you worry, one of us will be checking on you every day,” Lawan said, ostensibly more out of obligation than concern. “We recently hooked up the electricity and hot water, so you should have both if needed. The drapes block most of the daylight, so the sun shouldn’t be a problem. You should have all the toiletries you need, towels, dishes—although you probably won’t use those—and I stashed some books on the mantle over the fireplace to keep you entertained. You do read, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Cindel raised her chin indignantly. “I love to read.”
“Good.” Lawan eyed Jon and he stared back at her with an amused grin. “What?” she asked him, exasperated.
“Nothing.” He straightened his broad shoulders, standing at attention, and gave her a two-fingered salute. “Ma’am.”
Lawan scowled and playfully nudged him in the ribs. Cindel couldn’t resist a smile.
“Thank you.” She infused the words with as much appreciation as she could muster. This was certainly a step up from a cell. “Both of you.”
The hybrid’s expression softened, just a touch, but enough to notice.
“We both have the night off, so we’ll be nearby,” Jon said, finally tearing his eyes off his mate and leveling them with Cindel. “I’ll stop in again later tonight to make sure you’re settled. Sound good?”
Cindel nodded, swallowing hard at his kindness. “Will I be able to see Dax?”
The couple swapped looks again, as if they knew some great secret she wasn’t clued into. “Yeah.” Jon smiled gently. “I’m sure he’ll come by later.”
Her heart fluttered, her spirits lifting. “I can’t thank both of you enough. Really.”
Jon tipped his head while Lawan regarded her with a poker face, studying her intently. “Remember what we discussed. This is only temporary until you make a decision,” he added. “And time is running out.”
She nodded again, but her delicate bubble of optimism didn’t pop . . . yet.
Saying their goodbyes and good nights, they both left Cindel alone in the twilight dark. As their footsteps faded into the basement—where she apparently wasn’t allowed to enter—she padded outside the bedroom and explored her provisional home. The space was more than enough, and most of the rooms were newly remodeled, the underlying tang of fresh paint and sanded wood drifting into her nose. She noted the room across from hers had gym equipment and a punching bag, the solid black Everlast suspended from the center beam in the ceiling.
When she happened upon the fireplace, she discovered rows of books lined up on its mantle, most of the titles unfamiliar and far more modern than her favorite classics. Excitement flourished in her chest at the prospect of reading something new.
After picking a volume off the shelf titled Harry Potter and The Sorcerer’s Stone, she made her way back to the bedroom as the heat turned on, the radiators clicking and clacking all over the house. Setting the book down on the end table, she opened the dresser drawers and shuffled through their contents. Plenty of clothes filled their spaces—shirts, pants, socks, underwear, all darkly colored. The closet held even more apparel, a down jacket, boots, slippers, and sneakers. No dresses, no heels, nothing frilly or extravagant.
And Cindel couldn’t have been happier.
Even though Lawan was taller and thinner, it appeared the clothes would fit Cindel well enough. Recalling the way the hybrid carried herself, with her sword and knife and her abundant pride, Cindel grabbed a tank top and leggings, a burgeoning sense of determination stirring her blood. Lawan was everything she wasn’t, everything she wanted to be—formidable, brave, strong—and it was time to find out how much of Dax’s training she’d retained.
It was time to let her predator out and prey.
~ ~ ~
Dax couldn’t wait another goddamn second.
The night had been awful, harboring more darkness and violence than he’d experienced in a long time. Mutilated bodies, dead children, an endless high-definition surround-sound motion picture of nightmares he couldn’t stop. Both he and Rome had wreaked their own havoc, ripping through Manhattan proper like tornadoes, leaving nothing but chaos and bloodshed behind. But no matter how destructive they’d been—no matter how big of a dent they’d punched into the Temhota forces—it would never erase the horrors he’d witnessed.
She’s not like them. She’s nothing like them.
Dax kept telling himself that over and over, reasoning with his shell-shocked brain. Rome would occasionally cast him a perceptive glance, his brother’s own demeanor bordering on homicidal interspersed with moments of misery and triumph. When all was said and done—when they crawled out of that nasty black pit of Gotham—they could hardly look at one another, barely speaking to each other as if the trauma between them both was so great it throttled them in its poisonous shroud.
And they went their separate ways to work out their demons the best way they knew how.
Dax screeched the Jeep to a halt outside the rectory as the light of dawn kissed the sky, that wretched glimmer of hope tormenting them all with its empty promises. Unleashing a curse, he slammed his hands against the steering wheel, thumping his head on the headrest, wishing he could crack his skull open and vent the angst boiling inside him.
Terrible memories stabbed the backs of his retinas, images of the past cutting into him with a vengeance, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t clamp a lid down on the merciless horror show spilling across his vision.
Blood sprayed the white walls and screams pierced his ears, the human’s eyes bulging with panic and fear. Dax caught the male as he collapsed, and he clapped a hand over the guy’s spurting carotid in a futile attempt to staunch the bleeding. The leech who’d torn into him lay dead at their feet, riddled with lead and silver, but it was too late.
It was always too late.
“Shh, shh,” Dax murmured as the human choked and gurgled, his struggles already weakening in his grip. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just close your eyes and think of them. You’ll be together soon.”
Them being his wife and son, slaughtered in the next room.
Dax would never forget the expression on the male’s face—yet another nightmare to add to his extensive collection—petrified of what was to come while he died in a stranger’s arms.
And when the life left him, the human’s lids finally slipping closed and the fight in him subsiding, Dax almost envied the peace that settled over his limp body.
Like a soft wind extinguishing the flickering flame of a candle.
Dax let out a roar of grief, smashing the driver’s side window. It shattered under the force of his anger. Cold air swept into the car, clearing the last remnants of the flashback and awakening his senses. His chi skimmed beneath the surface of his skin, his shallow breath pluming in front of him, his power still juiced even in his exhausted state after a night of annihilating monsters.
He had to move or else he’d self-destruct.
Climbing out of the Wrangler, he whipped the door shut behind him, glass sprinkling onto the ground. The shards crunched under his boots as he rounded the hood toward the rectory, jaw chattering so hard it reverberated through his bones. Goosebumps rippled across his skin, his heart striving to maintain it
s rhythm while his blood chilled to alarmingly low levels. Step by deliberate step, he wrenched open the iron gate and scaled the stairs, facing the bolted double red doors.
Blood red like the fucking walls in that apartment.
Dax stood there, trying to recalibrate, practically panting as his body trembled and his pulse thundered in his ears. And when he raised a fist to knock, Cindy opened the door, flushed and sweating from a workout. Breathless, her lips parted and her eyes widened as she looked up at him, her chest heaving beneath her tank top. He didn’t want to imagine what he must’ve looked like, furious and bloodied.
“Dax.” She retreated a step, her hand covering her throat. His heart squeezed at the sight of her—a dream he’d been yearning to see for days—and he just wanted her under him, on top of him, all over him, inside him.
Fuck, he wanted inside of her, enveloped in her warmth and delirious with ecstasy. After an eternity of her absence, he desperately needed to melt the numb block of ice at the center of him.
Before he lost himself entirely.
Her cherry and incense scent pumped from her pores like an aphrodisiac, drugging him, the intoxicating aroma of her emotions laced in its fragrance. Relief, fear, joy, arousal. His eyes closed and he exhaled a tremulous sigh, unclenching his fists as the tension within him unfurled.
“Dax,” she said again, her voice wavering with worry. “Are you all right?”
His eyes snapped open and she gasped, desire thrumming in the air between them. Struggling to curb the impulse to jump her, he stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind him with a thud of finality, driving out the dawn.
“I want to forget,” he whispered, his words a bare rasp as shadows descended over them. “Make me forget.”
Her sleek raven hair was damp, clinging to her forehead as she wiped at it, the slim column of her throat working. Approaching him carefully, she reached out a shaky hand to caress his face, hesitant, cautious, as if she were touching a wild animal.
When her warm skin landed on his, he sighed again, and she stroked her hand down his neck and along his hammering heart. Her black diamond eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and when she sank her teeth into her lower lip, he almost groaned.
Temptation incarnate.
“You shouldn’t look at me that way,” she purred in that sultry mezzo-soprano.
His groin tightened at the sound.
“I can’t help it.” He brushed a thumb across her mouth, so soft, so hot, and he wanted it to do what it was clearly made for. “Not when it comes to you.”
“You’re starving.”
“For this.” He couldn’t bury the note of vulnerability beneath the gravel of his tone. “For you.”
Her hand curled in his vest as he cupped her nape, gentling his grip when she lifted her chin. Her pulse batted like a trapped bird under his fingers and he fully intended to set it free.
“And this.” He slid his hand over her breast and her breath hitched, beckoning him to tear off her tank top. “This.” Easing his palm between her legs, he rubbed the vee of her leggings, reveling in the heat radiating from her body. She stifled a moan, and fuck, he didn’t just crave her—he ached for her like nothing else in his entire existence.
Bringing his mouth close to hers, so close their lips were skimming, he murmured, “I want to devour you, Cindy, Cindel, whatever the fuck your name is. I don’t care if it’s wrong or right, I want you, all of you, right here, right now.”
The fans of her eyelashes slipped to half-mast as she grasped the hem of her tank top, peeling it off her body and tossing it aside. Pale, slick, beautiful, her nipples were rock hard as she dragged him against her, breathing the words that finally unraveled him.
“Then take me, Dax. Devour me.”
EIGHTEEN
Arousal throbbed between her thighs.
Dax’s hand massaged the thin fabric nestled over her sex as he snared her with his disarming blue eyes. They’d darkened to indigo, smoldering with a tempest of emotion, his gorgeous face bruised, his body beaten, wounds covering nearly every inch of his exposed skin. Whatever had happened out there clearly affected him, and she understood the desire to escape the suffering, to indulge in the comfort of here and now.
God, he wasn’t the only one. Just the notion made her want to strip him bare, kiss those wounds, mend him even if she couldn’t mend herself.
Without warning, he seized her mouth, his lips crashing against hers with damaging intensity. Their tongues tangled, his piercing tapping her teeth, and the thought of that metal on her clit elicited a moan deep in her throat.
His cold hands were on her, all over her, groping at the waistband of her leggings. Separating for only a beat, he yanked them down to her ankles before their bodies collided again.
His smiled, whispering an unbelievably sexy, “Much easier this time.”
Her nipples were too hard, too sensitive, aching to be touched, and when his hot mouth sealed over them, she cried out with relief, dropping her head back. He pushed her against the nearest wall as his tongue drew languid circles around their peaks, steel gliding along her tender flesh and making her squirm. She dug her fingers into his silky black hair and he pulled away briefly, blowing his breath across her wet skin. When she inhaled sharply at the myriad of sensations, he murmured, “God, I’ve been dying to taste you.”
Grabbing her by the ribs, he lifted her up, her spine chafing on the wall as she entwined her legs around his waist. His hands gripped her rear and his mouth latched on to her neck, licking his way from her collarbone to her ear, nipping mercilessly. She moaned as he ground himself into her, his pelvis pinning hers to the wall as the hard length of him strained for purchase.
Too many clothes, he had too many clothes on. She clawed at the fabric between them, desperate to feel his muscled skin.
“You’re so warm,” he growled.
“Take me, Dax,” she pleaded as he lapped beneath her chin, his hips rocking into her again and again, sending bolts of heat straight into her core. “Fuck me.”
His lips silenced hers as he tasted the recesses of her mouth, torturing her with his slow, confident ease. When he drew away with a ragged breath, he rasped, “I know exactly how I want you. And it isn’t here.”
Pulling her away from the wall, he carried her farther into the house and she tightened her hold on him. He continued to torment her with his kisses, bumping into doorframes and walls on their way to the graffiti-ridden bedroom. By the time they reached the threshold, they were both on fire, and she was wet, so wet, aching for something, anything to ease this maddening lust flooding her every cell.
After swallowing one last moan, he lowered her onto the mattress, his palms stroking her burning body as she lay bare before him, vulnerable, needy, wanting. He moved to shade the windows, but she stopped him with a breathless, “No,” her skin still able to tolerate the sun even after days without him.
He would be the first and only male she’d ever make love to under its rays.
Framed in its brilliant light, he hovered over her, his eyes blazing fiercely as they settled between her naked legs. He licked his luscious lips, injecting a thrill of anticipation into her, making her blood sing in her veins.
“Touch it.” The words rumbled from him, his face carved with desire. He unclipped his vest, removing his soiled gear. “Let me watch you.”
With her heart pounding wildly in her chest, she raised her hand to her mouth, slipping two fingers inside. She couldn’t remember the last time she pleasured herself for her own satisfaction, never mind anyone else. But when his eyes glowed even brighter as she drew her wet fingers across her lips, she felt that fire down to her very soul, igniting every last nerve ending on her exposed skin.
Sliding her slick fingers between her legs, she discovered she didn’t have to wet them at a
ll—she was more than primed enough. Her free hand cupped her breast as she glided through her folds, stroking toward her entrance. Bending her knees, she let them fall open on the mattress, spreading them wide as she kept her eyes fastened on him, memorizing every twitch and flicker on his face.
Dax tugged off his shirt, throwing it away to reveal that lean, muscled body, peppered with welts and gashes, splashed with cringe-worthy bruises. His nipple piercings caught the light, those inked mermaids flexing on his abs, and God, he looked glorious and damaged and sinfully hot.
Massaging her breast while she pressed her fingers into her clit, her back arched up off the mattress and she moaned, her eyes fluttering closed as a spike of pleasure hit her bloodstream.
“Don’t stop,” he growled as a belt clattered to the floor, fabric rustling. “Keep going.”
She rubbed the sensitized bud a few more times before reaching down and sinking her fingers into her heat. His hands braced on the mattress below her knees, the cushion yielding as his uneven breaths whispered along her damp flesh. In and out, she pumped into herself deeply, but it wasn’t enough, would never be enough.
“I want you,” she groaned. “I need you inside me.”
He grasped her wrist, drawing her hand out and turning it up in the air. Her eyes snapped open to find him staring at her face, twin blue flames of lust flaring back at her as he pushed her wet fingers in his mouth and sucked hard.
She choked out a gasp as he plunged his own fingers inside her, bigger, thicker, all the way to the hilt. Sensation assaulted her as he thrust into her, his fangs scraping her knuckles, his tongue lapping at her skin. With his smoldering gaze still riveted on hers, he licked each finger one by one, as if he couldn’t get enough, all while driving into her with his own hand.