by L Ann
When had she closed her eyes?
Deacon straightened, running his tongue across his lips. “Are you going to be sick?”
“What? No?” She was breathing too quickly, small panting breaths through lips that felt swollen, tender.
“Are you going to faint?” he asked her curiously. “You sound like you’re hyperventilating.”
“You kissed me!” The words came out as an accusation.
Deacon’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “It can’t have come as a surprise. I told you I was going to do it.”
“Why?”
“Why did I kiss you or why did I tell you?” He gave a soft laugh. “I thought you’d want a heads up, maybe head off any beatings you might feel inclined to throw my way, and because I wanted to see how much progress we’d made.”
“Progress?” she repeated faintly.
Why did she always end up repeating his words?
“Yes, Starshine, progress.” He bent and brushed his lips across her forehead. “Do you remember the conversation we had the night of the barbecue?”
“I … no.” All she thought about from that night was Damien and the events after he arrived.
“No, stop. Don’t go there.” She felt fingers on her cheek, a thumb stroking over her lips. “Look at me.” She slowly lifted her gaze to meet his. “Before Jaden interrupted us. You remember that, don’t you?”
The blush that rose up over her cheeks made it impossible for her to lie and she gave a jerky nod.
“What did I tell you I wanted to do?”
Gemma swallowed, licked her tongue across dry lips, touched the pad of his thumb and jerked away. “You said you wanted to … to …” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Go on, say it.”
“You wanted to fuck me.”
Deacon nodded. “You wanted that, too.” The thumb brushing over her lips stopped moving. “What else did I say?”
“You wanted to make me scream your name.” She half-panted the words, heat spreading through her.
“That’s right. “His head dipped until their mouths were almost touching. “What’s my name, Gemma?” he whispered.
“Deacon.” His name came out as a low moan.
“Both those promises still stand. Nothing has changed. I know you said you didn’t want my promises, but some time soon, I’m going to make you scream my name so loud the whole fucking town will know who’s responsible for making you come,” he promised.
When her lips parted on a gasp, he took a chance and covered them with his again in a slow, deep kiss, savouring the taste of her on his tongue. She was right there with him, following his lead. Her tongue tangled with his. Her teeth sank into his bottom lip as often as his nipped hers.
Progress, slow but sure. His wolf growled, pushed for him to take the next step and he blocked out the noise, the demand. This moment wasn’t about his needs, or his wolf. It was about proving to Gemma that no matter what had happened, no matter what Damien had done to her, he still wanted her, just as much if not more than he had before.
Her hand slid over his shoulder, up the back of his neck and into the longer hair on top of his head and a surge of triumph coursed through him.
His female was stronger than she realised.
Deacon froze, jerked back, breaking their kiss and frowned.
His female? Where had that come from?
“He didn’t kiss me.”
“What?” Deacon’s attention snapped back to Gemma. Her hand had fallen from his hair and was resting on his shoulder. She wouldn’t look at him, her lids lowered, her gaze on the floor.
“I know he didn’t.” He realised immediately she had misread his reaction and thought he had broken their kiss because he was thinking about Damien touching her. He tilted her head up, dredged up a smile at her confused expression. “If he dared to put his mouth anywhere near yours, you’d have bitten his tongue off.”
He took a step back and waved toward the door. “Why don’t you go –” A shrill beep from his cell stopped him mid-sentence.
Patting his pockets, he fished out his phone and unlocked the screen. There was a text notification from an unknown number and he tapped to open it.
We have unfinished business, cousin. And you have something that does not belong to you.
As he read, a second text arrived.
Such a sweet ass. Tight, hot. Her screams are like a siren’s song. Enjoy her. It won’t be long until she’s back where she belongs and being trained for her new life.
“Motherfuck—” he snapped his teeth shut and slid a glance toward Gemma, who hovered in the doorway. Smoothing his expression, he turned toward her.
“Go take your shower, Starshine. It’s late and you need some sleep.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Just some Pack shit to take care of.” He waved toward the phone in his other hand, knowing her eyes were on him as he turned away. He opened a new message box and fired off a text to his brother.
Response came immediately in the form of a phone call.
“Are you sure it’s Damien?” Cormac asked when Deacon connected the call.
Deacon checked to make sure Gemma had left the room before he replied. “It has to be. He must be close by, or have people watching. Where’s Shaun?”
“In his room with Cassie. Are you with Gemma?”
“Yeah.” He crossed the kitchen and closed the door. “I need Asher out here to upgrade the security on the house.”
“It won’t be enough. You need to bring her back here.”
“She’s not going to go for that, Mac.”
“I thought you would have jumped at the excuse. It’s what you wanted earlier.”
“Yeah, well things have changed,” he muttered.
There was a long silence. “Is she–”
“Don’t fucking say it,” Deacon growled.
“Deacon, I need your head clear for this. We can’t afford any mistakes. Look what happened to Shaun.”
“I know! I’m fine. She’s fine. We’re all fucking fine!”
“You don’t sound fine,” Cormac pointed out mildly.
“Do you still have Noah and Lucas hanging around?” Deacon ignored Cormac’s comment.
“Yes. They’re staying at Mama Dawson’s and taking shifts watching Gemma … and you, while you’re there.”
“Fuck’s sake, Mac. They don’t need to watch me.”
“I’d rather not risk it. Do you need them for something?”
“Yeah. Get them to scout around. Damien has to be masking his scent somehow. I want to know how he’s doing it.”
“There’s something else you need to know. I haven’t told Shaun yet.”
Deacon tensed. “What is it?”
“Lucas spotted Sam Cooper coming out of his family home. He didn’t leave the grounds, but he was definitely alive and well.”
“Fuck. That can’t be a coincidence.” Deacon dragged a hand through his hair. “Do you think Damien is there?”
“It’s a possibility. One worth investigating.” He heard Cormac moving around. “I’ll call a pack meeting tomorrow. I expect you to be here. Bring Gemma.” He paused. “Oh, and Deacon?”
Deacon sighed. He recognised the tone in Cormac’s voice and knew there was a high chance he wasn’t going to like what his brother was about to say.
“Yeah?”
“If Gemma is your mate, you might want to start the ball rolling.”
“I never said she was.”
“Then why are you still there?”
Deacon cut the call without replying.
Gemma lay in bed staring at the ceiling. She had been tired after work, tired when they arrived back at her house. And then Deacon had kissed her.
He had kissed her.
It wasn’t the first time. It hadn’t even been the longest kiss they had shared. That had been back at The Lodge before everything had gone to chaos. He had backed her against a tree and attacked her mouth like it held the key to immorta
lity and the only way to reach it was through pure unadulterated seduction. She had been kissed before, but never like that. If Jaden hadn’t interrupted them, there was no doubt in Gemma’s mind it wouldn’t have ended at just a kiss.
The second time she’d kissed him – well, she didn’t want to think about that as it had resulted in her vomiting all over the floor.
But the kiss in her kitchen? That had been different and she couldn’t pinpoint the reason why.
That’s a lie. The quiet voice inside her head sounded amused.
She knew exactly what had been different. From the moment he’d told her his intention, she’d wanted it. Wanted his mouth on hers more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. There had been no fear, no worry, no panic at the thought of being that close, that intimate with a man. There had only been desire and need.
Gemma shifted restlessly on the mattress. She could still feel his mouth on hers, taste that dark wickedness which seemed to coat his skin. Heat pooled between her thighs and she rolled onto her side with a low groan.
Are you insane? Thinking that way after what happened. How can you want someone after that?
She twisted again, facing the middle of the bed.
What was he doing? Had he left? Gone back to The Lodge? What was the Pack business which had put a scowl onto his face?
She sat upright, eyes wide.
Was it Damien? Was he back?
Gemma felt her heart rate begin to pick up.
No. Deacon would have told her… wouldn’t he?
She swallowed, forced down the panic, took slow deep breaths until her pulse steadied. She lay back down in the centre of the bed and pulled the sheets over her.
“You look like some kind of sacrificial virgin lying there like that,” Deacon drawled from the doorway.
Gemma turned her head to find him leaning against the door frame, lips curled into a lopsided grin as he watched her.
“I wouldn’t make an acceptable sacrifice.”
His grin faded and he pushed himself away from the door. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Take blame for what Damien did to you.”
“Aren’t I to blame? If I hadn’t–”
“Did you say you wanted him?” Deacon spoke over her.
“No.”
“Did you tell him no?”
“You know I did.”
“Did you ask him to put you in that cage?”
“No.”
“Did you want him to fuck you?”
“No.” Gemma’s voice broke and she turned her face away.
“But he did it, anyway.”
“Yes,” she whispered, so quietly she wasn’t sure he heard her.
“He forced you. He took something you did not want to give. How is that your fault?”
“Because … because it just is!”
“Self-pity isn’t a good look on you, Starshine. You’re better than that. Better than him. You’re giving him power over you. Power he doesn’t deserve.”
Her fingers clenched against the sheets, knuckles whitening. “It’s all so black and white to you, isn’t it?”
“Because it is black and white, Gemma.” She heard him take a step into the room. “He forced you to have sex with him against your will, knowing you didn’t want it. There are no fucking shades of grey there.”
“Then why do I feel so dirty all the time?”
Fuck.
Gemma’s anguished cry had Deacon across the room before he even thought about moving. He bent, scooped her up, and settled onto the bed with her on his lap. He’d pushed at her defences for over a week, poked and prodded in an attempt to get her to open up. Now, just as he was coming to tell her Damien was back, now was the moment she dropped the wall and let him in.
He could feel her entire body shaking, her tears soaking the front of his shirt and he smoothed a hand up and down her spine, murmuring soothing noises, as she sobbed against his chest. When her fingers clutched at him, he tightened his grip and held her close.
When her tears finally subsided into quiet hiccupping sobs, he shifted position, moving them both down the bed until he was lying on his back with Gemma beside him. She curled against his side, her head nestled into the curve of his shoulder and he pulled the sheets over them both.
Gemma was still and silent for so long, he thought she’d fallen asleep. His own eyes were closing when she spoke, breaking the silence.
“Why do you think he did it?” she asked quietly.
He turned his head and lifted a hand to brush her hair away from her damp cheek. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” he murmured. It wasn’t a lie. He had a pretty good idea why he’d taken Shaun, but he didn’t know for sure what his reasons for keeping Gemma was. He had a theory, but he wasn’t willing to share it until he could confirm he was right. He ran his hand lightly up her arm. “How do you feel?”
Gemma didn’t answer immediately. Deacon waited.
“Better,” she said eventually. “Tired. Drained, but better.”
He turned onto his side, facing her. He had to tell her. He couldn’t let her find out through someone else that Damien had made contact.
“I need to tell you something.” His dark eyes scanned her face, noting the slight puffiness around her eyes, the tear tracks staining her cheeks. “I was coming to tell you earlier before we … before we got side-tracked.”
“He’s back, isn’t he?” Deacon could hear the tension in her voice. Tension that hadn’t been there a second earlier.
“That text I got downstairs. It was from him.”
“Why didn’t you say something then?”
“You wouldn’t have been able to handle it then.”
“And now, less than an hour later, you’ve changed your mind?” she cried.
Gemma twisted away, intent on leaving the bed, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her back against him.
“Yes, I changed my mind. You needed to acknowledge what happened, you needed to face it, let it out. You’ve done that now.”
“Let go of me!” She shoved at his chest, determined to get away from him.
“No, just listen to me.” He tightened his hold.
“What did he say?” she demanded.
“It doesn’t matter what he said. The fact he made contact is enough to let us know he’s here somewhere. It means we no longer have to wonder when he’s going to show up. Now we can find him.”
“You don’t know that!” Gemma struggled against his hold. “Let me go!”
“Where will you go?”
“Somewhere … anywhere!”
“Stop running away from me!”
“I’m not running from you!” She managed to get her arm free and threw a clumsy punch at his shoulder, which he avoided easily.
“I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t think you could handle it.”
“Well, you were wrong! I can’t handle it. Why do you even think that?” Her second punch was more controlled and he grunted when it connected with his shoulder. When she took aim again, he unwound one arm from her waist and caught her wrist.
“Stop hitting me.”
“Tell me what he said!” she shrieked. “Is he coming here?”
“Gemma, think! Do you really believe he’d have sent me a message alerting me if he was coming here?”
“You convinced me I was safe! Safe with you! Let … me … go!” Her knee jerked up and he swore, rolled, caught her leg between both of his before it made contact, and trapped her beneath his heavier body.
“Fuck. Gemma, stop it!” He moved, grasped both wrists and yanked her arms above her head, pinning her in place.
“Get out! Let go of me. Leave me alone!” She arched up, tried to buck him off, and he growled.
“Not until you listen to me. And stop fucking squirming. It’s not helping.”
Gemma stilled, suddenly aware of the way his body was pressed against hers. A hard-muscled thigh nestled against a part of her body she hadn
’t thought she’d want anyone near again. She sucked in a breath, drew in that dark, tantalising scent she only ever smelled on him and lifted her eyes to meet his.
“Let go of me,” she asked him, her voice softer, and his gaze flickered over her face, searching for something – she didn’t know what - but whatever he saw caused gold to bleed across his irises and relax his grip on her wrists.
Gemma tugged one arm free and lifted it to press her palm against his cheek. She could feel the rough growth beneath her fingers, the warmth of his skin.
“Deacon?” She whispered his name and Gemma didn’t know for sure what she was asking for.
Deacon’s lips moved in a silent curse, and then he was kissing her.
His wolf growled, snarled, snapped and paced around his head. It demanded action, wanted revenge against the one who had hurt her. The man wanted to protect her, respond to her need. The feel of her body, her emotions – they battered him from all sides. He wanted to bathe in her scent, mark her with his.
Fuck … fuck … fuck…
Deacon could feel his control slipping, his wolf moving ever closer to the surface. With a low groan, he took her mouth, gave in to the primal urge to taste her again. His tongue licked along her full bottom lip, across the Cupid’s bow of her top lip, felt them part, and plunged it deep inside.
Gemma moaned, a soft, needy sound. One he devoured, swallowed like he was starved and only she could sate his hunger. His wolf growled louder, demanding more … more … and he bowed to its will. She tasted sweet, so sweet. The more he tasted, the more he craved.
A curse spilled from his lips and he lifted his head.
“We need to stop,” he bit out, bending his head to the curve of her throat and taking a deep breath, inhaling her scent.
The hand he’d released slid down his spine, found the hem of his shirt and delved beneath it. He hissed at the feel of her palm against his skin and pressed his mouth to her throat, nipping at the sensitive skin over her pulse.
Deacon felt her shift beneath him, her legs parting to rest either side of his, cradling his body between her thighs. Every time she inhaled, he felt her breasts brush against his chest, her nipples beaded and begging for his attention.