Willing herself not to fall into the rush she already felt threatening to build, her hands lurched forward, somewhat clumsily, and pulled his shirt from his jeans.
He paused the sweet, agonizing sway of his hands against her to help take it off. Gwinn’s lips fell to his chest the second it was exposed. On the tips of her toes, her lips could barely reach his heart.
Shade’s hand fell over the back of her head, loving the feel of her kiss against him, enchanted with the rich taste of desire he sensed coming from her. The emotion was so pure, and the memories he saw when he tasted this energy were all him.
Only him.
Her delicate hands went for his belt, and now he was the one with chills spreading across his skin.
He reached forward and gave her shorts one final push, sending them to the floor right as he felt her hand grip his shaft.
The sound that left him was so brutal Gwinn jerked away.
He grasped her hand, pulling it back into place. “I feel you…I really feel you,” he said as her hand glided down him, then twisted as it rose. He didn’t know how else to explain it or if he should. He only meant she made his body a live wire, what was once something he had to do—needed to do—was now something he wanted, he craved, wanted to be submerged within.
Shade squinted his eyes closed as her hands moved across him then he couldn’t take it anymore, the deep humming waves she was soaring through him was stirring him.
In a primal grasp, he picked her up and laid her across the bed.
In a flash he had shed his boots, and the rest of his jeans. His gaze was riveted on her, stretched out against the white sheets, the candle luminance lightly swaying against her skin. Her boots were still on, and he was intent on letting them stay for now.
Gently he fell atop her, his arms barely bracing his weight, as his lips met hers in a slow, deep kiss.
Her hands slid across his shoulders, down his chest, and grasped him once more. He rocked into her touch once, twice—then he had to stop.
His lips fell across her jaw, then slid down her neck. His knee moved between her thighs and then slid to the side, spreading her for him.
He tasted the spike of fear she had and almost smiled. They weren’t there yet, he was determined to make this as good as he could, to make her so numb the pain would be brief—an afterthought.
His lips moved down to her chest. The sensation of her hands sliding through his hair, guiding him, was almost more gratifying than the deep kisses he was lavishing across her chest, the hot air he’d breathed over her wet skin. There were times in the past at this point she was already undone, but not tonight—he was up for the challenge.
His hand slid down her stomach across her folds, teasing as he enjoyed doing. He paused his kiss and looked up at her, as he carefully slid one finger in. Wet. Hot. Perfect. Tight as hell.
Gwinn’s expression only asked for more, his kiss fell to her chest again, his thumb reached for her clit. Gwinn rose from the bed, her body flexed around his finger, but she didn’t come. He smiled as his kiss fell further down.
Gwinn grasped at his shoulders, silently begging him not to go where she was sure he was set. Any other time he might have heeded her worry, but she had, in her own way, challenged him tonight. She needed some kind of release before this happened, some way to take the edge off the pain.
His lips danced across her navel as he slid back, finding his way to his knees.
He pulled his hand from the core of her, and stared at her as he slowly unzipped her boots then pulled them off, and then delicately placed the balls of her feet on his shoulders.
“You trust me,” he whispered.
She nodded and reached for him but he only smiled, lavender swimming in his gaze.
One hand slid up her waist, finding her chest just as he slipped one finger inside. Then his lips fell to her core, to the tiny ball of nerves.
Gwinn bowed her back and clenched her teeth. She felt the volcano, the rush building but she was fighting. At first the fight was easy because she was too focused on making sure he was happy, he was there and would not leave her be.
Now with his lips—with him kissing her there—she was sure her fight was going to be lost all too soon.
She felt so provocative spread wide, a feast for him, with his hands inside and moving across her, her writhing. She wanted to stretch the sensation, this moment out forever.
All at once she felt him slip another finger within. The stab of pain made her remember how paramount this night would be.
The pain was forgotten as soon as she felt her body stretch around him. She was too focused on what his lips were doing, his teeth, as they slid over the one point of her body where she was sure every nerve ending existed.
She couldn’t help it. Her body convulsed, embarrassingly. Her legs shook around him and a brutal noise left her chest. She fought to hide the effect, to hide that for a few precious seconds she couldn’t move her body, but he knew. He always knew.
His fingers inside never stopped their rhythm. He spread ever so slightly. His kiss rose moving slowly over her body that was still numb.
She reached for him, bent to grasp him. She was sure he was about to give her one deep kiss and then pull her against him, cuddle time. She didn’t want cuddle time. She wanted him. Now.
His hand left the core of her and landed on hers which was grasping him. Wet. His slick hand ran across himself as his knee once again spread her thighs. He lifted his head from her chest, loomed over her.
“Sure?” His one word was spoken in a rasp.
She pulled him down to her, kissed his lips and did her best to guide him but he took control.
Just the tip of him met her entrance and Gwinn was already tensing.
“Breathe,” he said on what sounded like his last breath.
He pushed forward, only a few inches, but she cried out. His hands were on her face; sweet kisses were placed across her closed eyes. He knew if he was in this much pain, she had to feel shredded.
“Say when,” he panted.
She had no idea what he was talking about. When what?
She nodded shakily and quickly figured out what ‘when’ he was talking about. One slow thrust and he was all the way in.
Gwinn was sure her body was about to divide in two, literally—the pain was unexplainable. She kept trying to understand if this was natural or if there really was something wrong with her. Was it bad she was a virgin before she became immoral? Maybe not, because she was sure this would have killed her otherwise…
Shade’s eyes were squinted with pain, sweat was dampening his skin, being still was a new kind of hell he had just entered but he was determined to endure it for her.
“Ready?”
For? Gwinn thought foolishly, yet gave another one of her famous nods.
Shade pulled all the way out then in again, causing them both to cry out.
She was ready to tell him to stop, to get out—bad idea. But then he moved again, and slowly once more. The pain started to abate, there was a pleasure, a warm slick pleasure surfacing.
He reached down and arched her hips up, pushing deeper, causing another yell from them both.
When the pain, the stretching, started to agree with Gwinn she moved her hips.
A slew of curse words, ones she was sure were newly invented, left his lips and he buried his head against her neck and moved again.
His reaction left her dumbfounded. She wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, so she rolled her hips more carefully, met him with his thrust as her nails slid down his back.
More cuss words, almost a growl.
The volcano was back. Gwinn felt it building. She tried to fight it; the last thing she wanted was to be unable to move, some flapping wet creature beneath him. The thought was mortifying.
She fought it with each thrust, arched her chest against his.
Pain was almost a distant memory now—almost.
“I don’t think I can wait,” he said against her li
ps as his thrust angled and went deeper.
“For?” Gwinn gasped, right as she lost her battle. An eruption of energy burst from her body, shaking her.
“That. Oh, God, Gwinn,” Shade said through gritted teeth as her body convulsed around him, causing his head to spin. He saw stars behind his closed eyes. Her body all but pulled him inside.
“Move with me,” he said after a few seconds. He wanted deeper, to chase the vibration of her body but he was sure he’d hurt her.
“Can’t—yet,” she said as she tried to focus, this hum, the pull which was sweeping over her, more powerful than any magic she had ever tapped into. It was pulling her up and she didn’t want to go anywhere without him.
Shade rose to his knees, managing to stay lodged inside as he did. He tightened the grip he had on her hip as his other hand ran down her chest, reaching for her shoulder.
One hand steadied her, the other pulled her closer and he rocked forward, one, two thrusts and then the pulse of her body all but consumed him. He roared and strained to keep his strides even, less savage.
But then she moved, then she came to life under him, her legs tightened around his waist, her back arched off the bed, she breathed his name as her own hand rushed across his chest.
It was over. He was done. This woman had destroyed him. There would never be another. She was his and he’d follow his witchling to the depths of hell if she asked him to. This body was the one he was going to worship until the end of time.
His thrusts deep inside slowed, his chest shuddered with a deep breath. Her legs extended around him, then pulled him closer. He was determined to not pull free until he had to. He should be satisfied, he knew that, but he already wanted her again. He wanted her in every way.
He moved to his side, pulling her with him, wrapping her leg tight around him. When his lips moved down her neck he tasted her joy, outright bliss, and knew he had never tasted anything sweeter.
“Volcanoes are good,” she said, moving her body, still clenching his length.
A deep laugh left his chest. “Nicknames, then?”
She laughed then but then shook her head. “The rush. I held it back, but I couldn’t help it and…oh…just oh.”
“You fought it? he asked with a lifted brow. The swirls of blue and lavender in his eyes were entrancing her.
“It’s your stop button. I didn’t want you to stop.” She moved her hips, feeling the soreness, but the promise of another volcano was too sweet to ignore.
He playfully narrowed his gaze on her, understanding what she meant now. His fingertips traced her brow. “The ‘volcanoes’ you give me are so strong that it shocks me.” His hand moved over her heated flesh. “This hum…I never felt it before.”
“You? Shocked?” she taunted.
“A good shock, Gwinn.” His lips brushed her brow. “A really good one.”
Chapter Three
Talon had only held Reveca for a few silent moments after her vow. A vow Reveca had no idea how she would keep—either side of it. Protecting Adair and letting King all the way into her heart were two battles she wasn’t so sure her war torn heart was ready for.
When Talon’s phone hummed in his pocket he pulled it out and read the text, then gently set her down. “I’ve got business to handle,” he said as if this were any other moment, then he stood to leave, walking away without one backward glance.
Reveca was almost sure she had seen Judge’s number on his screen. Meaning Talon was on his way to Adair. Jealousy did spike through her. An emotion she felt like a fool for feeling, but vindicated all the same. She loved them all Talon, Judge, and...Adair, yet they now had a bond she couldn’t be a part of. One she would never understand completely.
King was nowhere close. No matter how hard Reveca strained, she couldn’t feel the hum of him.
Over the past few weeks, the simple thought of him would almost always cause him to emerge. Not now.
This was either a silent treatment or he was gone. Reveca was too twisted, fresh from her sin to find the will to be broken or mad at him for not caring—or being too furious to face her.
She had work to do and knew with her raw, cold mood this was the best time to get things done that she’d rather not do. Even if it would only piss the Sons off all the more.
When in hell, keep moving.
She stalked toward the Cage, moving stealthily through the dark, evaluating the mood of the Boneyard as she did.
Even with all the drama the night was calm, as calm as the Boneyard ever was under a lock down.
She’d sent a text to Cash the moment she decided what she was doing, one that simply read, “You whole?”
He’d just now responded as the distant guitar halted. “Aye.”
“Ready the boat.”
She was sure her command would invite an argument, and so be it—she was in the mood to fight. Cash didn’t say a word, though.
Before entering the Cage she lingered outside and listened to the interrogations Thames and Steele were plowing into Miriam. The girl was crying hysterically, blaming Adair, saying she tried to stop her, she told her it was a bad idea.
Reveca stepped inside and met Thames’s stare. The one shake of his head said it all. Miriam might have told Adair it was a bad idea, but telling someone such things and meaning them were different things. Thames was able to see what went down, and he was now silently telling Reveca he wasn’t buying it. Miriam manipulated Adair.
The fun part would be figuring out if Adair now realized that or if Reveca was going to have to be the bad guy and tell Adair she needed better friends. Less whore-ish and manipulative ones.
Reveca moved further back into the Cage until she reached a spell barrier that blocked all sound, even to immortal ears. A prison inside of a prison.
Akan was there casually laid back on the single bed staring at the ceiling oblivious to all the drama the last two hours had afforded the Boneyard.
Staring at him, a sick taste emerged in her mouth—dread. Nothing added up.
The boys had briefed her on this ‘bargain’ the Sons were suggested to make. Along with Akan’s reasons why Latour would take the trade.
Akan, though he sucked at loyalty, was close to Zale. In fact, the way they moved, the knowing glint in their gaze, a sly smile that was rich with seduction and dare, had at times made Akan and Zale one in the same in Reveca’s mind.
Akan blamed Chalice for raising the dead. Yet, Reveca had looked Chalice in the eye when he stated he didn’t. She knew from the tense conversation which landed her with four bullets in her gut, Chalice knew something—but raising the dead? No.
She also knew it wasn’t Chalice’s style to ‘take out’ an enemy. No, he’d killed innocents, but he had done so, in his mind, to save them. To plot to raise a dead man and send him as a threat, as Akan claimed, made no sense.
Even without her gut telling her something was up, Reveca had already caught Akan in a lie. He told the Sons Mia was searching for his lover and he sent him to where she was, which would have temporaily trapped the dead man.
His plan was for the Sons to trade him for Chalice, stating Chalice would be able to call the dead off—and the Sons could give their boy peace. Afterward, of course, they would all resume their war.
Reveca knew his story was bullshit. She had been searching through Evanthe’s things for weeks trying to understand how to get her out of the fucking book she was stuck in, because quite frankly, she needed a friend right about now—and just this morning she came across an entry in a diary which spoke of Mia’s demise. Well, the journal was tossed at her feet by an unseen source—still, she now knew Evanthe’s version.
Evanthe killed Mia.
She did so at his command. Zale had utilized the darkest of magic on Mia—its effects were irreversible. Zale tried to stop Evanthe, and they battled, destroying the home and then fleeing when they heard of the Sons’ approach.
The lover, the one Akan claimed Mia would be looking for—would travel halfway across
the globe to find—was all a lie. One sided at least.
The woman was promised to Mia, for in those times it was normal to do such things. Often Zale—all of them—practiced as many mortal ways of life as they could. Mia didn’t care for the grief-stricken girl who had all but forced Reveca to kill her the night they found Mia’s body.
Apparently, the reason he asked Evanthe for death was because he, under the duress of Zale’s magic, had killed his secret lover. Mia knew she was set free in death. She didn’t go into the Veil, the light came for her. He still yearned for death, not out of love or pity but because he knew if he could lose control so venomously, slay someone who meant so much to him, he was doomed. It was death or the devil’s hand for him.
Death was his salvation, or so Evanthe wrote.
Therefore, Mia was not trapped somewhere looking for some lost girl. Which raised the question, how did Akan get him to leave him be and where is Mia now?
Another hole in Akan’s plot to trade off is the reason Latour would trade Chalice for him.
Akan said Latour would want his connections, he would want to make his drug grow—that he’d drop his faith, and his angel to gain the wealth.
Maybe so, in theory.
Yet, Reveca knew Latour was a superstitious fuck. He wouldn’t trade a higher power for a lower one—no matter how much money was promised to come.
Which begs the question, why would Latour want this shifter, this sly immortal?
“Who are you?” Reveca said quietly. As if he heard her, his gaze shifted to where she was. He didn’t search blindly, he only grinned.
Reveca thought of facing him, twisting his head a bit, but she knew if she dropped this spell and stepped in, in those few seconds, he’d get a taste of the Boneyard. He’d know they were stressed at this hour.
As if reading her thoughts, Akan winked then moved his stare back to the ceiling.
Akan and Chalice, neither one of them made sense in the twisted drama the Boneyard was wrapped up in.
It puzzled Reveca that Chalice had said for Reveca to find her answers she needed to seek the ones she wrongfully placed in the grips of hell—and that the dead were risen because she slayed their creator.