Sonofafuckingbitch.
There are two people inside, both asleep, he managed to say.
My father and Evan.
I’ll take us inside, then. Where do you want to go?
Devlin brought them in through the chimney, a regular frickin’ Santa, except, you know, without the gifts, good cheer, or glad tidings. Inside, he followed her directions to a room at the top of the steps on the second floor. Big, fluffy-looking bed in the center, long dresser topped with jewelry and trinkets, walls covered in paintings and photographs. Anna’s bedroom, then. Her most private space.
No big deal.
Except in Devlin’s world you didn’t let someone into your inner sanctum, well, ever. Because doing so required trust and loyalty, two concepts that were way more theoretical than actual, at least in Devlin’s experience. He trusted no one. And the only people who had ever been loyal to him were his brothers. One died for it. The other had been tortured and imprisoned.
So damn big deal.
With the maelstrom raging inside his head, We’re here was all the warning Devlin managed to give before shifting them back into their corporeal forms just inside the door. A second later, he recalled how the experience had impacted Anna the last time, and found in his carelessness with her a whole new reason to hate himself.
She gasped and swayed. Devlin caught her in his arms, even though the emotional tumult he felt had resurrected the fear and anxiety about closeness and being touched that were his old best friends. And gods, even though his body was on high alert, Anna’s warm curves felt so good in his arms—
“You can let me go,” she said. “I know it makes you uncomfortable.”
Well, fuck.
For a moment, it felt as though time stopped, and Devlin found himself perched on a cliff’s edge. A step forward sent him into the cold, lonely free-fall of solitude, and very likely shut down any future possibility of receiving her touch—because, really, how many times could someone offer affection and have it thrown back in their face before they learned to keep it to themselves…or offer it to someone more worthy?
But a step backward, a step onto the solid safety of hard ground, well, that at least maintained her touch and affection as a potential. Whether Devlin was too emotionally stunted to grasp that potential with both hands and never let go was another matter entirely.
A moment of indecision. And then Devlin did something he almost never did—he took a chance, a risk, a figurative step away from the edge.
He leaned down, planted his hands in her silky hair, and kissed Anna like she was the air he needed to breathe.
And, sweet Zeus, after the slightest moment of surprised hesitation, she melted against him, fisted her hands in his hair, and opened her mouth to his on a high, throaty moan. Her arousal was a living presence all around him, kicking his heart into a sprint and sending blood pounding into his cock.
Devlin’s tongue swept into her mouth, tasting and stroking and twining with hers. One of his hands went to her back and pulled her closer, but it wasn’t enough. The disparity in their height was part of the problem, so Devlin dropped his hands to her ass and lifted her until her face was closer to his and her legs wrapped around his waist. Gods, but she was a sweet little thing in his arms.
Anna’s moan was open and honest and full of need. And gods be damned the tight friction of her heated center over his erection had the room spinning around him until the only thing he knew or saw or felt was her. He stumbled a step until her back encountered the wall next to the door, and the forced collision of her hips into his had both of them crying out.
For so long, Devlin had suppressed and ignored the needs of his body, a penance for the wrongs done to others that lay at his feet. And that part of his brain was pricking at him like a jackhammer against concrete. But when Anna leveraged her back against the wall to grind against his cock, Devlin’s body threw his thinking mind into a dark corner and, for just once, let himself have something he wanted with the desperation of a dying man.
And he very well might be that.
With the trip to the Eastern Realm looming on tomorrow’s horizon, this could literally be the only time he would ever get with Annalise Fallston. The only chance he’d have to live a life—even if it was but mere moments long—more full and more meaningful than the half-life he’d been forced into for so long. The only opportunity to learn that someone as good as her could want him and that maybe, just maybe, he could deserve her in return.
They kissed and writhed against the wall until Devlin was sure every part of his nervous system had migrated to the outside of his skin—because he’d never felt more deeply, more intensely, or more wholeheartedly in his entire existence.
Anna gasped for air, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He kissed her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, some primal urge demanding that he claim every part of her with his hands, his lips, his tongue. His cock.
He grasped her face in his hand, needing to warn her, needing her to understand where he was. “You only make me uncomfortable because you make me feel so alive,” Devlin rasped, shaking his head. “And I want you, Anna. Gods, I want your heat and your touch and your body surrounding mine. But I don’t deserve you. And I’m no good for you. I am angry and violent and dangerous. I’ve been marked by a lifetime of servitude to evil which I must now stand and fight, and that means facing trials I may not survive—”
She kissed him, cutting off his arguments and ratcheting up the tension in his body until he was nearly vibrating. Purple light reflected off her beautiful face and hair when she pulled away to look at him again. “I want this and I want you. Let yourself be loved. Let me love you.”
Devlin wasn’t deluded enough to think she was saying she loved him, but it was still the first time he could ever remember someone offering him love in any form so freely and without demands for anything in return. Is this what it’s like for other people? Is this what I’ve been missing while I’ve fought and raged and struggled for survival and freedom?
He didn’t know the answer to that. All he knew was that her words were both sweet solace and a short-fuse detonator wrapped into one. “You don’t understand,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers. His hips rolled involuntarily as he ran a too-rough hand from her throat down the valley between her breasts and back again. “I have long abstained, Anna. And now, I want you too fucking bad. If I let myself off this leash, I’m going to come at you like a freight train. I will take you over and over again in ways you can imagine and some you can’t. And I’m not going to be able to stop until you’ve come so often you can’t see straight.”
Anna’s breathing came faster, harder, and she nodded. “Take this off,” she said, tugging at his shirt.
Dizziness threatened that his words didn’t seem to faze her. And then her words sank in. His shirt. His scars. Damn, he wished he had something better for her, more worthy of her.
“Hey,” she said, pulling him from his thoughts. “Scars are simply proof of survival. They don’t bother me, Devlin. I find you so damn sexy that I can hardly think straight.” She kissed him, slow and deep. “But leave it on if it makes you more comfortable.”
Her compassion, so foreign to him, pushed him to the limits of his comfort zone—not just because it tempted him to expose his flaws to her, but because her words tempted him to believe she didn’t see them as flaws at all. He released a long breath and yanked the shirt he’d borrowed from Chrysander over his head. The shift in position put her weight squarely on his groin. His hands went to her hips and pressed her down against his cock.
“You are going to feel so good,” he rasped. Something that Devlin couldn’t quite make sense of niggled at the back of his mind.
Anna reached for her shirt and lifted it over her head. It caught on her ponytail, and she laughed as they freed it.
Knock, knock. “Anna?”
Eyes wide, she froze and hugged her shirt to her chest. Every muscle in Devlin’s body braced for battle, anger flowing
through him—at himself for missing this potential threat before it materialized, and at whoever stood on the other side of that door if they intended Anna even the slightest bit of harm.
“Oh God, I’m sorry. Let me down,” she whispered as she dived back into her shirt. In the darkness of the room, sparks flickered from Devlin’s hands. Anna grasped them before Devlin realized what she intended to do.
“Anna, no—”
“Shh, it’s okay,” she said, pressing a kiss to both palms.
It was as if her touch doused the fire of his anger—or at least his body’s expression of it. Suddenly, a whole line of similar instances flooded Devlin’s memory. How he’d been able to calm and clear his mind after he’d carried her to the couch in her studio, how it was the sound of her breathing and blood that had allowed him to rein himself in earlier, how her command that he recall the fire gave him the strength to actually do it, for the very first time. And then again at Aeolus’s. And now this.
Anna clicked on a small lamp on her dresser and opened the door. Evan flew through the breach and swept her into his arms. “Oh, thank God,” he said. Given the arousal that still flowed through Devlin’s body, jealousy and possessiveness flashed through his blood, but the man radiated nothing but concern.
“I’m okay,” she said as she returned the hug. “I’m okay.”
“I was so worried about you, Anna. And Devlin, too.” The man pulled back and looked over Anna’s shoulder at Devlin. “Damn, I can’t believe you’re up and around after being struck by lightning. But I’m so glad,” he said, extending a hand toward him.
Devlin returned the shake. “Thanks. Got lucky,” he said, nearly choking on the word.
An awkward pause filled the space between the three of them.
“Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but when I heard you moving around up here, I couldn’t wait until morning to see that you were okay with my own eyes.” He smiled, his affection for Anna plain on his face.
“I’m glad you did. How’s Dad?” she asked, hugging herself.
“Was a rough afternoon, but by the evening he’d settled down even if he was surlier than usual. Just the stress. And he missed you.”
“Me? Or Mom?” Something in the tone of her voice caught Devlin’s attention and twisted in his gut.
Evan squeezed Anna’s shoulder. “You, baby girl. Don’t ever doubt that he loves you. Just shows it in his own way.”
“I know,” she said on a sigh.
“Well, you look tired, so get your butt in bed,” he said, his gaze flickering to Devlin. He winked at Anna and Devlin could feel the heat of the blood that flooded her face. “I cleared my schedule for tomorrow because I wasn’t sure what you might need, so no worries in the morning.”
“Thank you,” she said. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Nice to see you, Devlin,” Evan said, meeting his eye. There was a bit of assessment there, as though the guy needed to know more about the man Anna had brought to her room.
Devlin nodded. “You, too.”
When the door closed behind him, Anna slowly turned to Devlin and gave him a small, uncertain smile. The interruption had sucked all the momentum out of their frenzied, urgent passion. Now, despite the fact that he could almost feel her need and arousal, and the hard state of his body proved how much he wanted her still, there was a distance between them Devlin didn’t know how to cross.
That distance allowed him to see some other truths. Like…damn it all to Hades, Evan had been right. Anna did look tired. Even though his body cried foul at the idea of not getting to have her, taking care of Anna was all that mattered. Because knowing her, spending time with her, and admiring her had forced Devlin to feel more and more deeply in the short time since they’d met than he’d ever experienced before.
Truth be told, it scared the fuck out of him. But that proved how important and special it was. She was. And her needs came first—which meant he needed to understand better what all of her needs included.
Devlin stroked his knuckles over Anna’s cheek. “Back at your studio, you said you have a condition that makes you tired.”
She hugged herself again. “Yeah. It’s called chronic fatigue syndrome, which is sort of a catchall diagnosis for generally having no energy and feeling like crap most of the time.”
Soul-deep concern ricocheted through him. “How do they fix it?”
“They don’t,” she said, dropping her gaze.
He caught her chin with his fingers and lifted her face. Gods, she was beautiful. “And all this is making it worse, isn’t it?” She shrugged, but Devlin hadn’t really needed her to answer the question. The thought of her hurting was nearly suffocating. “You should get some sleep, then.”
“Yeah, I will,” she said, giving him a small smile. “But I need a shower first. You’re welcome to take one after me, if you want.” Pale moonlight lit on the side of her face, making her almost glow in the darkness, like a fairy princess, or an angel. “Make yourself at home. I won’t be long.”
She grabbed clothing from a dresser, then crossed to a door on the far wall. As she closed it behind her, golden light shone from the gap at the bottom, casting a rectangle of yellow onto the carpet. Blowing out a long breath, Devlin raked his fingers into his hair. He locked and tightened his grip there, letting the burn against his scalp center and focus him. Not in a million years could he have predicted any turn of events that would’ve led him to the last thirty minutes in this room.
If he never had another moment with Anna in his arms, he still wouldn’t forget the way her small frame and feminine curves fit against him, her warmth, or the solace of her words.
The white noise of the shower turned on. Mere feet and a flimsy wooden door were all that separated him from the woman who set his body, mind, and soul on fire, thereby allowing him to rein in the most terrible parts of himself. She needs rest. Devlin nodded to himself and paced to the bed.
He sagged against the edge of the mattress and rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to quell the images that sprang to mind every time the tenor and rhythm of the water hitting the shower floor changed.
Half a dozen lesser Anemoi headed your way, Devlin, came Aeolus’s voice on the wind.
Thank you. Knowing someone had his back eased some of the tension from Devlin’s muscles. Not for his own sake, but because it was that much more protection for Anna and those she loved. Deep down in a quiet part of his soul, Devlin was glad for the help. And it touched him in a totally uncomfortable way to have someone actually think enough of him to offer it and actually follow through.
He dropped his hands into his lap and slowly took stock of Anna’s room. She’d acquired more possessions in her human lifetime than Devlin had in his entire centuries-long existence. Books, paintings, photographs, jewelry boxes, a hook overflowing with scarves. It was a space filled with color and brimming with life. He felt privileged to stand in the middle of it.
The whine of the plumbing continued, providing a lulling hum that revealed his own exhaustion. Weariness was as much a part of him as his blood and bones, and had been with him almost as long. But less familiar emotions slunk around the mental playground of his brain, too. Desire. Affection. Protectiveness. And where was his constant companion, loneliness? Sitting here in the mid-night quiet of Anna’s space, her scent and energy all around him, Devlin couldn’t find that particular emotion anywhere. Because when he was with Anna, she pulled him outside himself and made him engage and see and feel the world. And her, most especially.
Given Devlin’s life up until about thirty-six hours ago, that was a gods’ honest miracle. And he was not the kind of god to believe in such a thing. Ever.
Which was why it also had him bracing for the blowback he knew was coming. Because Devlin’s gut squeezed with the knowledge that it couldn’t last—wouldn’t last—not if his father had anything to say about it. And when hadn’t Eurus wanted to control every last, minute detail of Devlin’s life? Neve
r. He bore the marks to prove it.
Long minutes passed, and the water still ran. Devlin stared at the bathroom door, unease curling into his gut. She’d said she wouldn’t be long, but by any definition, she’d been in there a good while. Was the room somehow accessible from the outside? The question hauled him off the bed and across the room. He paused at the door long enough to listen, assess…and heard a jagged intake of break, then another.
Devlin frowned. “Anna?” he asked, knocking on the door. Nothing. He leaned his head closer. “Anna? Answer me.” His fingers clawed into the molding around the door.
“I’m okay,” came a strained voice. Strained by fright? Pain?
Dread skittered down his spine and had him pushing through the door. A shower curtain depicting a lily pond separated them. Devlin stepped to the corner where the curtain met the wall, his hands itching to tear it open. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, her voice reed thin. After a moment, the bottom corner of the curtain tugged back from the inside. Anna pulled the plastic in a way that mostly covered her, though it didn’t prevent Devlin from being able to tell that she was sitting in a ball on the floor, her arms curled around her knees. She peered red-eyed up at him, the spray of the shower raining down on her hair and back. “Hey.”
Devlin forced his gaze back to the wall in front of him. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable and was acutely aware he was all kinds of invading her privacy. And, gods, as gorgeous and alluring as her nudity was, she looked so small sitting there. Urgent need flooded through Devlin’s cells as if it was a part of his very DNA—but it was more an urge to take care of her than anything else. Problem was, he had absolutely no idea what to do, what to say. “Um, what’s the matter?”
“Just overwhelmed.” In his peripheral vision, he saw her shake her head and wipe a hand over her face. “Stupid.”