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

by Sadie Moss

  “She’s proud of herself. I think she succeeded,” someone comments.

  Ry… It’s Ry. Only don’t call him that. Not usually. But right now, I want to call him Ry, because it sounds casual and sweet, and I want him to be sweet with me.

  “Good, because—”

  The warm blanket that’s holding me up makes a noise of alarm.

  “Trin! Trin! Stay with me! Beck, get us out of here, she’s fading!”

  I feel vaguely like I’m being turned inside-out, and I can’t see anything. You would think being blind means that all you see is black, but that’s not true. I’m seeing nothing, and it’s not like black at all. It’s entirely its own thing. I would scream from the pain, except I don’t have a mouth to scream with, or maybe it’s no voice to scream with, I’m not sure.

  Next thing I know, I’m no longer inside-out, just woozy, and someone’s still holding me, keeping me safe and warm, and I feel a lovely, cool liquid being pressed to my lips.

  “That’s it.” It can’t be Beckett speaking to me. Beckett would never speak to me so warmly and kindly. Like he cares. Like he needs me. “Drink up, angel. That’s a good girl.”

  Only Beckett calls me angel like that though. So it must be him.

  My foggy consciousness tries to swim toward the light, toward Beck. Toward all of the sins.

  “Will it work?” That sounds like Remi, his voice rumbling against my back, but the words don’t match him—and somehow, I know that he’s translating for Knight.

  “It’s my best healing potion,” Beckett says. “It’d better work.”

  Oh.

  That’s very nice of him to use his best potion on me. I want to thank him, but I can’t seem to make my voice work. I’m slipping under the weight of my exhaustion—and I do see black this time. Not blindness, but unconsciousness.

  And I don’t remember anything else.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  TRINITY

  I wake up in a big, warm bed, beneath blankets as soft as clouds.

  Slowly blinking my eyes open, I sit up and look around. I don’t recognize this room, but I recognize the view from the windows—I’m in Beckett’s penthouse.

  Huh. Last I remember, I was…

  “Oh, shit!”

  I clap my hand to my neck and shoulder, my fingers searching for the wounds I know I received. But there’s no blood, no bandage, not even a scar. My skin feels as smooth as it did yesterday morning.

  Clambering out of bed, I hurry to the full-length mirror that hangs on one of the walls. I’m wearing my underwear, and a large oversized shirt that’s very comfy and smells like Nix. Of course it would be his. I don’t think Beckett owns any actual t-shirts, nothing as cozy as this.

  One of them must’ve taken off my other clothes to help me be more comfortable while I slept, without getting me fully naked. That’s rather considerate and respectful of them. Not that I expected anything less, just… since we’ve all basically slept together, some men might consider that permission to see me naked whenever, no matter what the situation. It gives me a rush of warmth and gratitude to know that the sins aren’t like that. Not even Sawyer.

  Peering at my neck and shoulder in the mirror, I can confirm with my eyes what I felt with my hand—there’s no sign that a vampire was chomping on it less than twenty-four hours ago. Whatever potion Beckett gave me, it really was the best.

  He gave me his best potion. Without hesitation.

  I’m not sure how I feel about that. Beckett’s so… hot and cold. What am I supposed to think when he does something like that?

  My clothes, including my phone, are sitting on the top of a dresser that rests against the wall next to the mirror. I pick up the phone and text Anderson a quick message.

  ME: Could we meet, please? I want to talk about my work with the sins.

  Stopping innocent people from getting hurt by closing the portals to Hell has to be a good thing, an action that puts the sins one step closer to redemption, right? Surely it will count for something. If Anderson agrees, then I’ll know I’m on the right track to redeeming them.

  Shoot. I just hope he doesn’t ask too many questions. I don’t want to tell him what else I’ve been up to—all the sex I’ve been having, for example.

  I seriously doubt Anderson would approve of my behavior in that regard.

  Message sent, I put my phone down and then sit down at the foot of the bed.

  What am I supposed to do now?

  I’m glad the portals are closed—no, not just glad, relieved. I can stop worrying about the harm the corrupted could do to people. Humanity is safe again, at least from that threat.

  But I’m not sure how I can justify sticking around the sins now that it’s over. Anderson will want me to keep working with them, I’m sure of that. My task for the committee definitely isn’t over yet. But the sins—except Ryland, of course—don’t know what I’m really here for.

  So they’ll be suspicious if I just… keep hanging out now that the portals don’t have to be dealt with anymore.

  I can’t leave, though.

  And the honest truth is, I don’t want to.

  Not just because I want to get back home by redeeming them, but because I like being around them.

  Thinking too long about that feels like skirting the edges of a dangerous pit, so I push the thoughts away and stand up. I’m not actually sure how long I was out, but it was long enough that I’m definitely hungry. I could use some of Remi’s signature pancakes, and once I have a full belly, I can consider my next steps.

  I’ve just reached the door when it flies open. I jolt back, surprised.

  Ford stands in the doorframe, somehow seeming to take up the entire open space.

  “You’re awake,” he notes.

  “I am,” I reply.

  We’re clearly gifted conversationalists.

  The blond man steps inside, closing the door behind him, and we stare at each other in silence some more. I’m not sure what he’s doing here, but I can sense distress and tension radiating from him.

  I swallow. “Are you all right?”

  Ford stalks toward me, grabbing my face, and for a moment I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead he just lets his gaze roam over me, like he’s… oh, he’s checking me for injuries. To see if I’m healed.

  “You almost died,” he says, instead of answering my question.

  Or maybe it does answer my question. He can’t be all right if he’s thinking about me almost dying, can he? Unless he’s secretly disappointed that I didn’t actually die, and he’s just doing a very good job of hiding it.

  “Yeah. I guess I did.”

  My brows draw together, because I wasn’t aware at the time that I was that close to death. Honestly, I’m still not sure how that happened. That vampire definitely took a chunk out of me, but Knight got to him almost immediately, so…

  “The crystal.” Ford’s jaw clenches. “It sapped you. Using it takes energy. Especially when your fuckin’ wish is that fucking big.”

  Ah. Okay, that makes a lot more sense. I guess I should’ve figured that using the crystal to close dozens or maybe even hundreds of demon portals and prevent any more from being made would come with… a bit of a price. It is a pretty big wish, after all.

  “So you almost died,” Ford repeats, his voice harder this time.

  “But I’m fine, and I was fine,” I counter. “Knight had me, Remi had me, Beckett took care of it. I was never going to actually die.”

  I truly believe that, even though I don’t realize I believe that until I say it out loud. But I do. None of them would’ve let me die.

  Ford doesn’t look like he believes it though. Or like he can stand thinking about it.

  He looks… agonized.

  I’ve never imagined an expression like this on his face, and the sight of it tugs at something inside my chest.

  Emotion churns behind his eyes. It’s not anger, but it’s imbued with the same intensity that fuels his rage. And it’s a
ll concentrated on me.

  His hands are still on my face. He’s staring at me, his eyes searching mine, like he’s not sure what to do about all that he’s feeling. He looks overwhelmed, almost confused by it, and I feel answering emotions rising up inside me to meet his.

  “I failed you,” Ford whispers. The words are a soft rasp, and the sound of it makes goose bumps rise on my skin. I don’t understand. It all feels like so much.

  I didn’t realize he could care so much about me.

  “You didn’t.” He’s still clasping my face, so I can’t quite shake my head.

  “I should’ve been there.” He licks his lips, and his nostrils flare as he draws in a breath. “Knight’s a good kid. He’s good. But he’s not me.”

  I get what he’s saying. No one can fight like Wrath can. But also…

  “You were doing what you were supposed to do,” I tell him. “You’re Ford. You were doing your Ford thing. You couldn’t sneak into the house like Knight and I did. You were playing your part in the plan, and you didn’t fail me.”

  “No. I was supposed to protect you.”

  His tone is adamant. Unshakeable.

  Ford is one of the most stubborn men I’ve ever met. Not that I’ve met all that many; I haven’t really let anyone get close to me the way that I’ve been letting these seven get close. Or, well, six. Jury’s still out on Ryland, honestly, and I don’t know if that’s more my fault or his at this point.

  How do I help Ford? How do I comfort him? I don’t know. Words don’t seem to be working, and I’m not the best with those anyway. I feel like I still don’t know him that well, or at least not well enough to say whatever it is he needs to hear. There’s so much more to his story, so much lingering underneath what he’s saying to me right now, and I just don’t know how to access it.

  And, well, it feels like Ford and I have always done our best communicating through the physical anyway.

  So I push myself forward, my hands landing on his chest, and I kiss him.

  His lips are hard and unyielding at first, sort of how it was when I kissed Ryland for the first time. But Ford isn’t Ryland, and no matter how hot-headed and stubborn he may be, he allows his emotions to rule him much more than his brother does.

  Maybe he wants to stay mad. Maybe he wants to keep wallowing in his anger and self-recrimination. But as I press myself against him, moving my lips against his, licking at the seam of his mouth, he gives in.

  His arms tighten around me, and then he’s kissing me back, plundering my mouth with fierce determination.

  He scoops me up, and I wrap my legs around him. I’ve only done this a few times, but my body is already learning the ropes, figuring out instinctively what feels good. I use the leverage of my legs around his waist to work my body against his, grinding against his hardening cock, and he strides across the room, pressing my back against the wall to create his own leverage.

  With me sandwiched between him and the wall, he pulses his hips against mine, kissing me over and over again. He kisses almost the same as he fights, like it’s a battle to see who can give and take the most pleasure, and I find my tongue stroking hard against his, matching every single one of his movements. He draws out a side of me I didn’t even know existed until I met him, and now I don’t ever want to lose this part of myself.

  “Hold on to me, Trin,” he mutters against my lips, and I do. Without question. Without hesitation.

  My arms wrap around his shoulders, and I hold on tightly as his hands skate down my body, slipping under the t-shirt until he finds my soft lace panties.

  Then he shreds them off my body in a single sharp movement.

  I yelp into his mouth, surprise making my eyes open wide. His blue eyes burn, and he makes a growling sound that’s half amused and half hungry.

  “Beck bought me those,” I mutter as he kisses me again, his hands reaching between us to fumble with his pants.

  “Then he’ll buy you more,” he grunts. Then he nips at my lower lip. “Or better yet, he won’t.”

  The idea of not wearing panties around these men, of having one less barrier between us, makes my core clench hard. Ford’s eyes dilate, and he shoves his pants down just far enough to free his cock, teasing my entrance until I lift myself up a little and then sink down onto his thick length.

  It’s the first time we’ve ever done this, but somehow, it doesn’t feel like it. Maybe it’s because the last time we made out in my room—just the two of us—he made me come just from dry humping his thigh. Or maybe it’s just because it feels like we always should have been doing this, like every second we’ve spent apart has been a wasted second.

  “Eyes on me, Trin. Watch me.”

  Ford’s gruff voice calls my attention, and I force my eyes to stay focused even as pleasure barrels through me. He fucks me hard and fast against the wall, and it feels… perfect.

  It feels like the outlet we both needed, the tender, brutal expression of our feelings for one another.

  I don’t even care if I come or not. Just feeling him inside me gives me a sense of completeness. Of satisfaction.

  But of course, I do come. It hits me out of nowhere, slamming into me like a runaway train and making my legs clamp so tightly around Ford that my thighs ache. He doesn’t stop fucking me, driving into me as the orgasm peaks before following me over the edge with a harsh cry.

  I feel wetness spill from between us, cum dripping down as he continues to thrust inside me, small pulses of his hips dragging out the aftershocks for both of us.

  My arms keep holding on tight as I bury my face in his neck, breathing in his scent and absorbing his warmth and strength. After a few minutes, he pulls me away from the wall and carries me over to the bed.

  He pulls out of me, but instead of lying down next to me, he carefully peels off my oversized shirt. His pupils dilate as he gazes down at my naked form, and he reaches down to grab the hem of his own shirt and tug it over his head. He kicks his pants, boxers, and shoes off next, and only when we’re both completely bare does he lie down beside me.

  Then he tugs me into the cradle of his body, resting my head on his chest as his arms steal around me.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  TRINITY

  I put my ear against Ford’s chest, against his heartbeat, and feel it slowing down, becoming steady and calm. Some of the tension seems to have bled out of him in the aftermath of his release. I can feel it in the way his muscles aren’t as tight, the way his finger lightly traces along my shoulder as he holds me.

  It’s so different from how we ended our last encounter in this room, the night he kissed the breath out of me before we snuck into the casino.

  There’s something about this moment that I don’t want to break. Something tender and fragile about it. Ford’s heart might be giving a steady beat, but mine feels like it’s racing. Racing toward something.

  I don’t know what that something is, but it feels terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

  “Are you okay?” I ask quietly. I don’t really want to disturb this moment, but I don’t want to waste it either. Not this softer side of Ford that so rarely shows itself. “Are you better?”

  “Yeah.” His chuckle rumbles in my ear. “Fuck yeah, I am.”

  He’s not lying, but I’m pretty sure he’s not telling the whole truth either. Something is still bothering him.

  “Ford…” I tilt my head up so I can see his face better. “I really love that you wanted to protect me. But I hate that it hurt you so much when you felt like you couldn’t. I really mean it when I say it’s not your fault.”

  His body stiffens a little beneath mine, and he shakes his head. I can see that his anger is turning in on himself again, that he’s replaying the fight and letting self-recrimination poison his heart. I don’t want him to do that, so I lean up and kiss him again, shutting off his thoughts and mine as our lips move together.

  He softens beneath me, one hand cradling the back of my neck as he kisses me eagerly
, and I almost smile against his lips.

  It’s like his rage has an off button, and that button is my mouth.

  We kiss for long enough that I’m dizzy with it and my body is begging for a second round. But I already set up that meeting with Anderson, and I don’t want to be late.

  “I need to go,” I whisper, stealing one more hit of Ford’s musky scent before slipping away. “I have an errand I need to take care of.”

  He arches an eyebrow at me, one arm going up to cradle the back of his head as he watches me slide off the bed. “An errand?”

  “I do have a life outside of you guys, you know.” I roll my eyes as I glance over my shoulder, trying to keep my tone playful and light. I hope he doesn’t ask more questions or press me to find out where I’m going. I can’t exactly explain Anderson to him. Not without working hard not to lie to him directly, and I don’t want to do that.

  But he doesn’t push. Maybe all the secrets he’s keeping from his own past remind him not to pry into someone else’s.

  I quickly clean myself up and get dressed, conscious of Ford’s gaze on me as I pull a t-shirt over my head and then fluff out my hair. My skin heats under his focus, and it takes all my willpower not to whip the shirt back off and crawl into bed with him again. I don’t want to leave him or this wonderful bubble we’ve created, but I can’t be late to my meeting with Anderson when I’m the one who requested the meet-up in the first place.

  Ford is still sprawled on the bed in all his naked, muscled glory, and my greedy eyes soak up the sight of him before I wrench my gaze away. Hopefully this won’t be the last time I get to see him like this. It’s not just the nudity, although I have to admit I’m a big fan, but the look in his eyes, the banked fires that burn in his blue irises. There’s something open and almost soft about him in this moment. The other side of anger, maybe, the peace that comes after a storm.

  “I’ll be back,” I murmur before I give a little wave and slip out the door.

  Most of the others are in the living room as I walk out, and I do my best to put on a cheery, nonchalant demeanor when they all look up. I only have vague memories of the moments after we returned to Beckett’s penthouse, but I know I was in rough shape. I don’t want them to worry about me now.