Wicked Game: A Paranormal Romance (Feathers and Fate Book 2)

by Sadie Moss

  My gaze flits from Beckett to Ryland. They’re each sitting at opposite ends of the table, like two bookends encasing the insanity in the middle.

  Did they miss this at all? It must’ve been sad and lonely to splinter apart after so much time as a unit.

  I skip thirds and finish eating before everyone else. Honestly, I’m ready to go to bed. I feel a bit overwhelmed with everything I’m trying to learn and take in about this… collection of men. This almost-but-not-quite family.

  “I’ll see you all tomorrow,” I mumble, bowing out—literally, I make some kind of half-bow like an idiot—and then I head for the room that Ryland told me is going to be mine.

  I’m not sure that I really like Ryland being in charge. He and Beckett do seem to work well together, no matter how much that fact might annoy them, but he’s also so… so cold. Heartless, almost. None of the others seem heartless. It makes me shiver when I’m around him, like I’m out in a snowstorm without a coat.

  Halfway up the stairs, I hear footsteps behind me. They’re heavy. Whoever it is obviously isn’t bothering to disguise the fact that they’re following me.

  As soon as I reach the landing at the top of the stairs, I turn.

  Beckett’s a few steps below me. He arches an eyebrow, as if I’m the one who’s following him rather than the other way around.

  “You wanted something?” I ask, just barely resisting the urge to tack on a sarcastic my liege at the end of it.

  I’m pretty sure Beckett hears the intention anyway, because he glares at me as he ascends the final few steps to meet me on the landing.

  “How are you so… casual and nonchalant about this?” he demands.

  My brows furrow. “About what?”

  Does he mean this entire situation? Because I think I’ve made my naiveté with the sins pretty clear by now.

  The dark-haired man growls low in his throat. It reminds me a little of Ford, actually. “The competition. How can you be so calm about this? You realize you could die, right?”

  “Gee, I hadn’t ever thought about that.” I roll my eyes, frustrated he thinks I’m that stupid. “I know you don’t have a very high opinion of me—I get that, you’ve made it clear from the beginning. But you don’t have to rub it in with remarks like that.”

  Beckett takes a step forward and brings his hands up. I take a step back instinctively, and the next thing I know, my back is against the wall and his arms are on either side of my head, bracketing me. Boxing me in.

  “You have to promise me you won’t do anything stupid, angel. Anything too risky.”

  I actually snort in derision before I can stop myself. “Are you serious right now? Do you honestly think I’m going to be that reckless? You really have no faith in me, do you?”

  Beckett’s glare deepens and his lips press together until they’re just a thin line. He looks like he’s trying to teach me how to add two and two together and I keep ending up with five.

  “This isn’t about your recklessness or not,” he says in a low, intense voice. “This is about…” He shakes his head. “You’re a determined person. I could see that from the beginning. You’ve conscripted the seven sins to help you close these portals, and I doubt you’re supposed to be doing that. If Above was really interested in closing the demonic portals, they would’ve dispatched some kind of team already to do it. But they haven’t, which means it’s not a priority for them.”

  I don’t want to confirm how spot on his assessment of the situation is, so I just keep my mouth shut, trying not to breathe too deeply as the spicy scent of expensive cologne seeps into my nostrils.

  Beckett cocks his head, looking down at me as I tilt my chin up to meet this gaze.

  “Your angelic brethren don’t care about this little portal issue. But you do. You care so much that you’ll bypass the chain of command and work side by side with the sins to try to fix this problem. Your behavior has clearly shown that you’ll put yourself in dangerous situations to do what you think is right. So when I tell you not to do anything too risky, I fucking mean it.”

  He’s got a point, actually. Not that I’ll admit it to him.

  “Why do you care so much?” I say instead. “I don’t know why you’d mind if something happens to me. It’d get me out of your hair once and for all.”

  Sure, I do owe him a favor, but at some point he has to wonder if this is all worth one stupid favor anyway.

  And when did Beckett start paying enough attention to me to know me so well?

  Beckett doesn’t seem to be prepared for me to ask that question. I think he was expecting me to snark back at him and get angry over the whole competition thing. He looks startled, his eyes going a bit wide—and then I see them glow with the power of his sin, and I think, but I’m not being greedy. Then he lunges forward and kisses me.

  Oh. Oh.

  I’m not being greedy.

  He is.

  His lips slant over mine, his tongue licking at the seam of my mouth, demanding entry. And I don’t even hesitate, opening to him as if it’s an instinctual reaction, something my body understands far better than my mind or my heart do.

  The spicy scent that’s all Beck seeps into my nostrils, and my body presses against his as my arms creep up to wrap around his shoulders. It’s been a long couple of days, and this feels like the antidote to every worry and bit of stress that’s been clinging to me.

  It feels like none of those things can touch me while I’m in this man’s arms.

  That’s probably not true—even Beck isn’t that powerful—but that doesn’t change the feeling that washes through me as he kisses me breathless.

  I feel… safe.

  And I feel hot all over.

  My core throbs, and fire licks through my veins as Beck grabs my chin with one large hand, angling my face exactly where he wants it as he takes our kiss even deeper. I don’t know where this is coming from, what made his control snap like this, and I can’t put together a coherent thought to try to figure it out.

  So I don’t even try. I just let myself get swept away in the feel of him, stroking his tongue with mine as my hips bump against his body. He’s hard already. I can feel his cock pressing into my lower belly, and knowing that I’m responsible for that just makes the ache in my body intensify.

  It’s because of me.

  Because he wants me.

  My toes curl in my shoes, and I slide my hands over the broad muscles of his shoulders and back. He’s so freaking solid, like a wall of muscle and warm skin and that delicious, addictive scent.

  “Dammit, angel,” he rasps, yanking his mouth away from mine. For a second, I think he might’ve regained his senses—but instead of pulling away, he just dips his head lower, finding the sensitive skin of my neck with his lips. And his teeth. And his tongue.

  My eyes roll back in my head, my fingers digging into his shoulders as sensation overwhelms me. Holy crap, I had no idea my skin had this many nerve endings. As Beckett bites down on the place where my neck and shoulder meet and sucks on the skin there, my clit throbs so hard I think I might come on the spot.

  “Beck… Beckett… I…” I’m not quite sure what I’m trying to say. Am I trying to ask him for mercy or relief? Or are those the same thing at this point?

  My body is like a live wire, the sensations so acute it’s almost too much to handle, but if he tried to stop right now, I think I’d literally burst into tears. I need this. In a way I didn’t even know I was capable of a few months ago, before I met the sins.

  Beckett releases the skin of my neck from his mouth with a wet pop.

  “Dammit,” he mutters again, licking at the spot he was just sucking on, soothing the sting of what I’m pretty sure is going to be my first hickey.

  He sounds almost mad, and I can’t tell what exactly he’s upset about—is he pissed because he didn’t want to let himself do this with me, or is he angry because even though he allowed himself to indulge his greed, he still can’t get enough?

  That�
�s what it feels like to me. Like it’ll never be enough.

  Beckett’s body is caging me against the wall, his tongue is trailing over my skin as his hands roam my curves like he’s trying to memorize them… and it’s still not enough.

  I need more.

  Back at the sex club where we found Henrik, I didn’t quite know what I needed when the aching desire built inside me.

  But now I do. Thanks to Beckett, I know exactly what I need.

  “Please, Beck,” I mutter, sliding my hands through his hair as I tilt my head back to offer him better access to my neck. “Please. Touch me.”

  He is touching me, but he knows exactly what I mean without me having to dig deep for dirtier words than that. He draws back from me just enough to look me in the eyes as one of his large hands slides over my waist, across my stomach, and then down the front of my pants.

  He doesn’t even bother undoing the button or zipper first, and the way he has to literally shove his hand inside makes me gasp. It feels dirty and debauched, and I don’t even want to admit how much I like it.

  Beck’s fingers slide unerringly toward the place I’m desperate to feel them, and when they bypass my clit, I let out a shocked little noise of displeasure. His chuckle rumbles in his chest, and his green eyes burn with intensity as he watches me, his face less than an inch from mine.

  “Don’t worry, angel,” he murmurs, his voice a deep rumble. “I’ll take care of you.”

  One thick finger presses inside me gently, sliding in past the first and then the second knuckle. My inner walls clamp around the intrusion, and I keep staring into Beckett’s eyes, feeling myself grow hotter and hotter. What he’s doing is lighting my body on fire, but the way he’s looking at me?

  That’s the gasoline that creates the inferno.

  There’s something so intimate about staring into his eyes while he slides his finger deeper inside me. He can see what he’s doing to me, read every reaction on my face, and I can see how much he likes it.

  When he slowly draws his finger out, it’s slick with my arousal, and he drags it up toward my clit, smearing my wetness over my clit as he traces a light circle around the sensitive bud.

  Holy crap.

  I rise up onto my tiptoes, pressing my hips into his touch as I cling to him for dear life.

  This is what I wanted, what I needed so badly, but I’m suddenly not sure I’m even going to survive it. My breasts feel heavy and swollen, and my nipples have stiffened into points. It’s like my clit is a switch and he just turned me on. There’s not a single part of my body I’m not aware of right now, and every inch of me is humming with sensation.

  I tug my bottom lip between my teeth, working hard not to let my eyelids fall shut as his finger moves faster, teasing around my clit before brushing over it, then changing the tempo and rhythm to push me to a new plateau.

  We can’t look away from each other. I watch Beck’s expression change as he spreads my folds, dipping his finger inside me again before resuming his sweet torment of my clit. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and if I could get my muscles to function properly, I’d smack him for it.

  He’s building me up, slow and steady, ratcheting up my pleasure to the point where I don’t think I can take it anymore, then backing off a little before pushing even higher.

  When he put his mouth on me the day I got dosed with lust dust, he was trying to put me out of my misery, to take the edge off my magically induced desire.

  But now? Ohhh, this asshole knows exactly what he’s doing.

  I whimper, the sound tinged with desire and frustration, and a hungry smile curves Beckett’s lips.

  “Let me see it, angel,” he murmurs, shifting his finger over and flicking my clit with soft, rapid movements that make my legs go weak. “Let me see you come apart.”

  I want to tell him that already happened several minutes ago. There’s no part of me that qualifies as “put together” right now. But I can’t get the words past my lips, so instead, I just come hard on his hand.

  My hips jerk and buck as a rush of sparking heat floods my body, pleasure making my muscles tighten and relax in waves with each pulse of my orgasm.

  I clamp my lips together, but that doesn’t stop sound from escaping—a muffled groan that ends on another whimper as Beck finally begins to slow his fingers. He doesn’t seem to want to stop touching me, and every soft brush of his fingers over my clit sends a new shock of sensation shooting through me.

  When he withdraws his hand from my pants, I can feel the smear of arousal his fingers leave on my skin.

  Beckett somehow still looks perfectly put together while I’m a shivering, post-orgasmic wreck.

  “Be careful tomorrow,” he says. His voice is a little hoarse, the only sign that anything about him is affected by what we did, and the slight rasp in his baritone makes my clit throb again. Another little tremor of pleasure shoots through me, making my legs wobble.

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  The words fall from my lips automatically. I can’t believe we’re still talking about tomorrow. I can’t believe I can still talk at all, actually.

  Beck’s eyes narrow, as if he wants to press me harder on this point. As if he wants to get me to sign a promise in blood or something, to vow that I absolutely will be careful and won’t do anything too reckless.

  I half think he might do it, but instead, he presses away from the wall, allowing a rush of air to fill the little bubble that formed between us. A muscle in his jaw ripples as he clenches his teeth. Then he dips his head in a sharp nod and turns to head up the stairs. Leaving me alone.

  My mouth drops open slightly as I take in great big gulps of air. My heart is racing, and my brain is so far behind the curve it’s not even funny.

  That was… that was…

  Holy crap.

  I want more. I want Beckett to come back and do more to me, to fuck me for real. I want to feel more than his fingers inside me, more than the warmth of his body through the layers of our clothes. I want to be skin to skin. I want him to drive his tongue into my mouth while he fills me completely, while I wrap my legs around his lean waist and hold on.

  I want all of that, more than I’ve wanted maybe anything in my entire existence.

  But I can’t go after him. Partially because my legs are more unsteady than a baby deer’s and partially because I don’t think I have the courage.

  The smart thing to do—what I absolutely should do—is go back to my room, get some sleep, and try to forget this whole thing ever happened. I’m fairly certain that if I never mention it again, neither will Beckett.

  How on earth I’m going to fall asleep after what just happened, I don’t know. But I’ve got to.

  Squaring my shoulders in determination, I turn to head down the hall. Then I freeze, my eyes opening so wide they almost pop out of my head—because I’m not actually alone.

  Knight is standing there, his eyes gleaming.

  He saw.

  Everything.

  Chapter Thirteen

  TRINITY

  “Knight,” I manage to get out.

  My voice barely sounds like it belongs to me, husky and breathless. I sound like… well, like a dominating, sexy man just pressed me up against a wall and made me come on his hand.

  Twice.

  So I guess I sound about right then.

  Envy slips from the shadows and walks toward me, moving so silently and fluidly that he’s like a shadow himself. His face is unreadable, and I wish we could communicate in a way that let me understand him. I can talk at him, and I know he can understand me, but he can’t talk back to me. I don’t know his form of sign language.

  He comes to a stop right in front of me, and my already electric skin seems to buzz with a new sort of energy. My breath catches in my throat as his gaze rakes over me, and I tug my bottom lip between my teeth as I wait for him to… what?

  To say something?

  He can’t.

  Just as that thought flits through my mind
, Knight steps away from me. Without making a sound, he turns and strides down the corridor toward his room.

  I stare after him, blinking in shock as my cheeks flush. Oh, no, I can’t leave it like that. What’s he going to think of me? How much of what happened did he see?

  “Wait!” I call out in a half-whisper.

  Knight keeps walking, stubborn like all of his brothers, it seems, and I hurry after him. My legs do wobble, but I manage to catch up and stop him just before he tries to close the door to his room. “Please, wait.”

  He pauses, looks at me, then slowly opens the door to let me in, closing it behind us. Giving us a bit of privacy.

  I swallow. Now that I’m here, I’m not quite sure what I should say. But the onus is on me to hold up the conversation. Knight isn’t going to, and besides, I’m the one who just chased him down a hallway.

  “Um, listen, I don’t know how much you saw, but I want you to know that’s not why I’m doing this. Or why Beckett’s doing this. I mean, I’m not trading, uh, favors or anything in exchange for help. And I didn’t mean for that to happen. I don’t even know if Beck did either. He’s so—I mean, you know how he can be. You know better than I do.”

  Knight just stands there, one eyebrow slightly raised, listening. His room is mostly dark except for the streaks of cool blue moonlight filtering in through the window, and the shadows make his features look sharper than usual. His expression is even harder to read in the dim light.

  “I don’t get Beck,” I blurt, as if Knight’s silence is some sort of magnet that pulls the words out of me. “He does all this stuff to make it clear he doesn’t care about me, but then acts jealous sometimes too. He doesn’t want Ryland near me, that’s for sure. And he was definitely jealous of Sawyer—back when you guys summoned Lust, he got all protective when Sawyer tried to seduce me with his power. Then he goes and does something like… well…” I jerk my head in the direction of the stairs, flushing all over again. “And that just confuses me more. It’s all a mess.”

  Knight nods, his face serious and intense. I get the sense that he’s stowing my words away somewhere, taking in and cataloguing each one. That he’ll remember every sentence of this conversation for a long time.