The Darkest Surrender

Page 47

Her relief intensified, mixing with a sense of pride. This was her man, her warrior. No one was stronger. No one was as vengeful or as capable. “Thank you. Now, you have to go,” she told him, giving him a little push. “Rhea could be nearby, and you are—”
“Nope.” He didn’t budge. “Sabin and the angels are looking for her. So far, they haven’t found any hint of her presence.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“Shut it, Kaia,” he said, cutting her off a second time. “You’re in trouble and only digging the hole deeper.” He pushed to his feet only to bend down and grab her wrist, tugging her to her feet in turn, spinning them both around and leading her away from Lazarus.
Leaves and branches slapped at her, and insects buzzed, some daring to bite her.
“I can’t go too far,” she said, huffing from exertion already. Damn. Her side and leg throbbed, the wounds having opened when she fell. Now, blood trickled from each, catching in her boots.
“You’ll go as far as I tell you,” he snapped, unaware of her pain.
“Strider, listen to me. My sisters are fighting. I have to—”
“I don’t care what they’re doing. You and I are going to talk. Now keep it down while I find a place for us. If you don’t, I’ll gag you. And Kaia? I really hope I get to gag you.”
She pressed her lips together, silent as he urged her deeper and deeper into the forest.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
STRIDER HAULED KAIA through thickening mist and across a rushing river. When he’d first come here, the trees had tried to eat him alive and he’d had to hack his way to safety every few minutes. Now, those same trees remained perfectly still, not a single leaf dancing in the swirling breeze. What was that about?
The question ceased to matter when he reached the cave he’d discovered while tracking Kaia. Would serve her right to be thrown inside, a boulder shoved in front of the only exit. She could spend a few years in solitary confinement, thinking about her mistakes.
He meant to yell at her, he really did—for leaving him behind, for almost walking into that bastard Lazarus’s seductive trap, which Strider would punish him for setting, by the way—but as he backed her against the crystal wall, he was given his first full-length glimpse of her since tackling her fine ass to the ground. Her gorgeous red hair was damp at the ends and dripping little water beads onto her bare stomach.
The river had washed away the makeup that always coated her skin, leaving her glimmering like a diamond in blazing sunlight. Not as brightly as before, though. And she was shivering. He frowned. Why was she shivering? It was as hot as hell in here.
That did nothing to diminish her appeal. Nothing could. Maybe because she wore a tiny half top and a pair of shorts. Both were white, now see-through, and he saw. Blushing, beaded nipples, and then, between the long, lithe length of her legs, a delicious patch of red in the center, and if he didn’t look away soon his erection would bust through the zipper on his pants.
He studied the rest of her. She was injured, he realized. The angry wounds in her side and on her thigh caused fury to well inside him, replacing the lust. No wonder her skin lacked its most brilliant sheen and her body couldn’t stop trembling.
He bit into his wrist and held the wound to her mouth. “Drink.”
Moaning in ecstasy, she obeyed. Such exquisite suction, he thought, such warmth. Her eyes closed in surrender. When he saw the torn muscle and then the flesh weaving back together, he nodded in satisfaction and removed his arm.
He was the one to groan this time. Of course, lack of injury left her beautiful skin bare and unmarred, allowing him to eat her back up with his eyes. The lust returned full force.
Gaze…up… Her lips were pouty, moist. Higher. Because, damn. He was throbbing. Her silver-gold eyes were luminous with all kinds of emotion. Upset, relief, arousal of her own, hurt. He wanted to wipe away the bad and magnify the good. And the only way to do that, he told himself, was to have her. Finally. All the way, nothing held back.
Yeah, baby. He liked the thought of that. Felt as if he were thinking clearly for the first time in his life. He needed what she offered. Wanted to stake his claim, warn every other man away.
There would be consequences, he was sure, but he couldn’t make that matter. Not here, not now. She’d left him and struck out on her own, and the separation had nearly driven him to the brink of insanity.
He pressed his body against hers and she gasped. Such a lovely sound, needy and wanton.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice low and sultry. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”
“Welcome.”
“Do you still want to gag me? Because I recommend using a racket ball and duct tape if you do.”
“No need for a gag. I can handle you.” If he couldn’t, well, there was no better way to go.
Her breath hitched. “Really?” Now her tone was verging on the edge of hope.
He nodded. “Really. So let’s figure out what I need to do to hit this one out of the park.”
“O-okay.”
“You once told me Paris had given you a bazillion orgasms. Your words, not mine. So exactly how many is a bazillion?”
Her cheeks pinkened and she was adorable, all the sexier, in her embarrassment. “I don’t know. I didn’t count. And I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Think back. Count. And you’re going to talk about him, once and only once. After this conversation you will forget him. Forever.”
“Why?” She flattened her palms on his chest. “Why make me think back, I mean, when I only want to think about you?”
“My demon. Why else?” He traced a fingertip along her jaw. “So do it. Please.”
Win.
Shocking, he thought dryly. I will. He hoped.
Understanding dawned in her expression, and with it, fear. She’d just realized Strider had to give her more orgasms than Paris had. That even sex was to be a challenge to him. Was she wondering if they’d ever have any peace? If there’d ever be a moment just for them, no games, no winner, no loser?
“You knew that’s how it would be before you accepted me as your consort,” he said stiffly. “Don’t even consider tossing me aside now. So do it. Think back and tell me.”
“I don’t want to toss you aside. I don’t want you hurt, either.” She chewed on her bottom lip, a nervous action he recognized. “He gave me f-four, I think.”
That stutter… “You think or you know?”
A pause. More chewing. “I, uh, know. Yes, I know. Four. It was four. For sure.”
Win.
Shut it. I will. He would give her (at least) five orgasms before he came. And he would blow her mind with every single one of them. But he’d have to deliver them while she was still clothed. Moment he stripped her, he would be inside her, filling her up, losing the control he needed.
“I have to say, I’m a little surprised you consider four a bazillion, but to each his own. Just prepare yourself for a quadrillion.” He reached between their bodies and un-snapped her shorts.
Her eyes widened. “We’re having sex now?”
“Yes.” Unziiip. He arched a brow. “After your assembly line of orgasms. Is that a problem?”
“No. It’s just…do you remember when I said I didn’t want you hurt? Well, I meant, I didn’t want to accidentally hurt you. So you’ll just…damn it, you’ll need a safe word.” Her chest heaved with the force of her breathing. “I’m sorry.”
Baffled, he paused. “Me? I’ll need a safe word?” And she hadn’t been afraid he’d fail, only that she’d injure him. He nearly grinned. Already this was the best sexual experience of his life.
She nodded, unsure. “Are you okay with that?”
Delectable female. His gaze lowered to the gap in her shorts. White panties. Lace. Nice. “How about a safe phrase? Mine will be ‘someone’s out there.’” He didn’t wait for her reply, but dropped to his knees.
“Oh, gods.” Her belly quivered. “Okay, yes, okay. Gods, I’m repeating myself, but that works.”
His gaze locked on the shadow of red beneath the lace and his mouth watered. He leaned in and nuzzled her with his nose, inhaling the sweet scent of female.
“Oh, gods,” she said again. “You—you’ll be the best, Strider, you don’t have to worry. Okay? I know it.”
Just then he wasn’t worried about anything; his mind was locked on her and only her. On learning her taste, hearing her beg for more, feeling her clutching at him, maybe pulling at his hair.
He forced her legs to part as far as they could with the shorts restricting her movements. Unmindful of her panties, he pressed the tip of his tongue against the heart of her, the heat. Pressed harder. Gods, he could already taste her and he’d never liked anything more.
The ache in his cock intensified, nearly unbearable. Damn. How good would it feel if he reached down, curled his fingers around his shaft, stroked up and down while burying his face between her legs?
He was reaching down before he realized he’d moved. Damn it. He gripped her thighs. He’d have to blank his mind, perform but remain distanced. Only when he’d beaten Paris could he consider his own pleasure.
Strider flicked his tongue over the tight bud of her clitoris.
“Oh, gods, yes,” she gasped out.
No need to force his mind to blank. Her pleasured cry short-circuited his thoughts. Satisfied, he wanted her satisfied. Damp, her panties were damp, but he wanted them soaking.
Next his tongue traced lazy circles around her heated center, swiped back and forth, up and down, hitting her from every possible angle. When she began arching her hips to meet him, he caressed his hands up and down her calves, her thighs, then under her shorts. Such soft, smooth skin…so damn warm.
Though he wanted to tunnel his hands up, higher, thrust his fingers inside her, he merely teased her with the possibility, his tongue never ceasing its assault, and finally, sweetly, she gripped the back of his head and held his mouth firmly against her. She was panting, sheened with perspiration.