CHAPTER 13
The trip back to Walker’s apartment passed nearly as quietly as it had the first time. When the front doors were locked securely behind them, he waved Fiona toward the stairs and followed her up to the living room. He could feel her curiosity. She didn’t quite know what to make of his civility or his lack of hostility, but she seemed reluctant to test the waters and ask him. He was glad of that, because he really didn’t want to have to explain himself. Not when the answer made him look like an even bigger jerk than she’d probably already labeled him. Because in the end, his mind hadn’t changed as a result of her well-reasoned arguments or an ethical epiphany or even because the circumstances of being ordered to cooperate by his alpha made his attitude both unwieldy and vaguely ridiculous. His mind had changed because he couldn’t get enough of the taste of her. That last kiss had been a revelation for him. That one hadn’t taken him by surprise, and it hadn’t been the princess in control. It had been his kiss from start to finish, and now that he’d taken it, all he could think about was taking more.
At the top of the stairs, she stopped and turned on him. He was two steps behind her, but the height difference still put her just below his eye level. She didn’t seem to notice, though, judging by her glare and the way she crossed her arms protectively over her chest, as if she could ward him off.
“Okay, I’ve been a good little Fae all the way here, but I can’t take it anymore. I want to know what in the blazes’ names you’re up to.”
Walker tore his eyes away from the swell of her breasts rising above her forearms and affected a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Who? Me?”
Fiona didn’t look like she was buying it. “Yes, you, Mr. Split Personality. The only times since we’ve met that you haven’t been either yelling at me or glaring at me have been when I was out of ear-and eyeshot. This new restraint you seem to be practicing is making me uneasy.”
“You heard Graham,” he said, shrugging and manfully resisting the temptation to lean forward and lick that little furrow that appeared between her eyebrows when she scowled at him. He’d noticed it before, but when had it become so enticing? “We need to work together. I figured that might be a little tough if we kept acting like we hated each other.”
“Hey, you were the one hating me, bub. I was just trying to take a little vacation and, failing that, to get back home in one piece. You’re the one who had to go and get all aggressive about it.”
“What can I say? I’m Lupine. Aggressive is programmed into the DNA.”
Had that little flutter of pulse at the base of her throat always been there, begging for the stroke of his tongue? He felt his mouth begin to water.
“You’re right. It’s not so much the aggressive I have a problem with. It’s the bad tempered.”
“Right. Bad temper is bad.”
His powers of intelligent speech were melting rapidly away from him. All he could think about now was the taste of her mouth, the feel of her skin. The way her slim, naked body had pressed snugly up against his the first time they kissed…
The fit of his jeans altered suddenly and he bit back a groan.
“Thanks for clarifying that complex point I was trying to make,” she drawled. “Now that we both realize you’ve been acting like a werewolf with a wounded paw, maybe we can work something out to make sure it doesn’t happen again?”
His hormones took that as a direct invitation and expressed their approval of the idea with a surge of energy and a low, rumbling growl. “Okay.”
He was on her in one surging leap. Her feet swept out from under her as 250 pounds of excitable Lupine slipped free from a battered set of psychological fetters and took her to the nearest available flat surface, which happened to be a hardwood living-room floor. Walker thought he heard a squeak, but it barely registered above the roaring in his ears. Besides, he already had her mouth soundly beneath his, thus eliminating the possibility that she might make any sound other than the squeak. Though if he had his way, she’d be adding a few groans and whimpers to her repertoire real soon.
She tasted even better than he remembered, sweet and spicy. Exotically floral, enticingly hot. His tongue swept in to gather the flavors, and he felt the top of his head threaten to lift off like a moon lander. Christ, how had he resisted her for so long? She tasted like heaven and felt like home, and he must have been out of his mind not to spend the last day and a half with her pinned between him and something solid. Going forward, he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
His hands raced over her sleek curves, filling themselves with the warm, soft weight of her. He found himself wishing fiercely that he knew magic, so he could do that little trick of hers that had ticked him off before and just will their clothes away. Since he didn’t have that kind of luck, he settled for grabbing hold of the collar of her shirt and turning it from a pullover to a buttonless button-down in two seconds flat. He felt as much as heard her indignant yelp, and he sure as hell felt the hands that fisted in his hair and yanked his head back, breaking their lip-lock and nearly giving him whiplash.
“Just a damn minute,” she said, doing a very creditable impersonation of his own snarl. “Are you the same jerk who all but accused me of rape like three times in the last thirty-six hours? Are you the one currently pinning me to the floor and ripping off my clothes?”
Did she honestly expect him to understand words at this point? His overtaxed heart struggled to divert the flow of so much as a drop of blood north of his waistband, succeeding just enough for him to growl, “You can’t tell?”
“Just trying to clarify.”
She watched him carefully through narrowed violet eyes, but all he could think about was making them go misty and unfocused in pleasure. He shifted his weight, settling himself more solidly over her, just in case she got it into her head to try to get away. One denim-covered knee forced its way between hers, levering her thighs apart to let his hips nestle snugly against her heat. He rocked there just a little. Just enough to drive himself crazy and to feel her soften involuntarily beneath him. That was all the encouragement he needed. Growling, he set his lips to her throat and let her feel the edges of his teeth against her skin. They closed delicately over the pale, tender flesh, and he savored the taste of her heartbeat on his tongue.
“Clear,” he grunted.
He felt a shiver chase across her skin and his heart jumped in satisfaction.
“So can I take that to mean you’re not going to turn around in fifteen minutes or so and claim that this is all my fault?”
Ignoring the stinging in his scalp from her fingers still trying—unsuccessfully now—to pull him away from her, he ran his tongue over her skin and felt her shudder. Encouraged, his hands glided up her hips and under the baggy fabric of her torn shirt, brushing the two sides away until he could feel the warm silk of her skin under his fingers. As far as he was concerned, in fifteen minutes he planned to be balls deep inside her and very happy about it, so he managed another grunt to signify agreement.
“You won’t accuse me of assaulting you or violating you or using you or anything along those lines?”
He could hear her getting breathless and almost purred in satisfaction. Sliding his hands up the ladder of her rib cage, he nearly wept in relief when his palms covered the soft swells of her breasts. He registered her involuntary gasp of pleasure and firmed his grip, gently kneading. Christ, she felt better than anything he’d ever touched in his entire life. He became convinced she felt better than anything any man had ever felt in all of recorded tactile history.
“You’re not going to… oh!”
Figuring it couldn’t be so bad to go bald, he moved his mouth lower, taking her clenched hands with him, and skimmed over the curve of her throat, the gentle rampart of her collarbone, and down the center of her chest. His tongue couldn’t resist darting out to sample the flavors of her varied terrain.
“—to change your… mind?”
Her unsteady question had his beast beating its breast in pure male arrogance. Knowing his touch could affect her, excite her, bring her somewhere even close to the fever pitch of lust she had stirred in him, had him growling in triumph. Now that he had given himself permission to want her, the desire hit him like a tsunami, dragging him under and washing away every thought and every urge except for the need to get inside her.
“Because I’m not… going through that… again… Walker!”
He dragged his mouth over the valley of her breastbone and raced up toward her nipple, closing over it just in time to have her shouting his name.
God. He needed to hear that again. Now.
He felt another growl rumbling up in his chest and freed her nipple only to attack its twin with equal fervor. He drew on it strongly, tongue lashing, teeth scraping. He suckled her as if she gave him vital sustenance and he would die without this nourishment.
Her nipple had already drawn into a tight bead before he even touched it, and he could smell her desire, hot and female and potent. He knew she wanted as badly as he did. What he didn’t know was how or why she kept talking when he could barely understand the English language, much less speak it. Clearly she needed to play a little catch-up. Scraping his teeth over the sensitive peak of her breast, he slid one hand down the gently curved plane of her stomach and beneath the elastic of her waistband.
“Because,” she panted, persistent and breathless, now trembling from head to toe with need. “Because if you pull that shit one… more… time… I won’t…” She whimpered. “I can’t…” Moaned. “Can’t…”
She broke off again on a shudder, and ruthless, Walker moved his hand the last critical inch, sliding over the smooth, bare skin of her mound, parting her tender flesh with long, eager fingers, and entering her on a swell of triumph and greed.
“Walker!”
Her body arched beneath him in a glorious bow of quivering woman. She poured into his palm, all sweet liquid fire and want. The desire fisting in his belly suddenly grew claws and dug in hard. Urgency turned into emergency and he ripped her last garment away, leaving it shredded on the wooden floor. Tearing his mouth from her breast, he reared up over her and hooked his hands under her knees, drawing them up and apart until she lay before him completely open. Completely female. Completely his.
He saw need on her face, felt it in the way her legs wrapped eagerly around his hips, and her hands slid over his chest to the fly of his jeans, fumbling it open and tugging impatiently at the stiff fabric.
He could give lessons in both stiff and impatient.
Snarling, he shoved her hands away and dealt with the final barrier himself, biting back a howl at the relief and torment of bare skin against bare skin.
He felt his lips pull back from his teeth, felt the ache of teeth giving way to fangs, and knew his eyes would be glowing a bright, inhuman amber.
“Now!” he bit out, not knowing if the words emerged in English or in Lupine and not able to care. “Mine! Now.”
Fiona opened her mouth, but whether she meant to agree or protest, Walker never found out. With a feral sound of possession he fit himself against her snug, slick entrance and thrust home, the dim echo of his triumphant howl ringing in his ears.
Fiona screamed.
At least, she thought she screamed, but it was hard to tell over the ringing in her ears and the eerie, Lupine howl of the man above her. Around her. Inside her.
Lady, he felt huge, stretching her, filling forgotten corners of her body and her soul until she thought she could feel her seams unraveling. It was glorious and enthralling and exciting and terrifying. Beyond any experience of her long, pleasure-filled life.
And if he ruined it later by accusing her of something devious, she might have to castrate him.
That was her last rational thought. After that, all she could do was feel. Feel the width of his body stretching hers, the pounding impact of his thrusts, the heat of his hard, masculine form moving powerfully over her.
Her head fell back, too heavy to support. Her hands gripped his shoulders, desperate to find a purchase in the madly spinning universe she had entered. He represented the only stable thing left, and she clung with all her might, twining her legs about his hips, locking her ankles together for better purchase. Her hips cradled his thrusts for a few short, mind-blowing seconds before her control snapped. She went wild beneath him, writhing and bucking, desperate to have him harder, deeper, faster, more. She wanted everything he could give her, and then she wanted him to give more.
He didn’t seem to have any problem with that. His big, hard body vibrated with tension and excitement, propped up on the hands he had planted beside her shoulders. Less to spare her his weight, she thought, and more to give him leverage to thrust. If she’d been able to pull her nails out of his back, she’d have applauded the decision. Instead, she just pulled him closer and whimpered her approval.
Goddess, would she ever have enough of him? She couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t summon up the memory of what it had felt like not to have him inside her. Everything past, everything future, everything around had ceased to exist, and there was only Fiona and Walker and the ferociously building tension coiling inside them both.
She struggled for air, struggled for breath, struggled for leverage to lift her hips harder against him, to take him deeper. On a strangled growl, she felt his muscles tighten further, felt him shifting, reaching down to grasp her hips and lift her higher. He inched forward, reset his knees against the floorboards, and braced her against his thighs, taking away the last of her leverage.
She lay there, spread before him like a banquet. Her hands slipped from his shoulders to flop uselessly to the floor. Air eluded her lungs. He had her completely at his mercy, until it seemed that even her ability to draw breath, to move, to live, to be, depended on her lover’s whim.
He shifted, the hands on her hips pushing her away with aching slowness. She felt him slipping away, sliding from her body, and made a noise of panic and distress. Her hands reached out, slapping at his, fighting to stop his retreat and keep him inside her. He ignored the mild annoyance and slid out, out, out, until only the tip remained, hugged tight by her liquid warmth.
She heard a pitiful mewing sound and wondered vaguely if it could have come from her. It wouldn’t matter if it had. She needed this man more than she needed her next breath, needed the filling, stretching presence of his body inside her. Completing her. She would beg if that was what it took. Pride didn’t matter compared to the heat and wonder and glory of mating her body with his.
She shuddered, wound tight and frantic. Forcing her eyes open, she gazed hazily up at him, righting to focus. His face was set in hard lines, all planes and angles etched by control and power and lust. In that harsh frame, his eyes blazed so brightly she could have sworn she felt the flames licking her skin. The light in them burned gold, tipped with red, inhuman and unholy and beautiful. She wanted to drown in them, to burn in them and rise again like a phoenix.
“Walker,” she gasped, desperate and trembling, “please! Stars! Please!”
He made her wait, one breathless, aching moment that felt like eternity with his body poised at her entrance and the fire of his eyes consuming her. His fingers tightened, digging into the flesh of her hips, biting and bruising and claiming. Slowly, deliberately, his head lowered, moving closer until his blinding eyes hovered just inches from hers. She felt his breath hot and moist against her skin, and she shook with need and passion.
His lips curled back, exposing a glistening length of fang, and when he spoke, his voice sounded rough and feral, rumbling with aggression and wild with magic. His one word marked her as surely as a brand, and she welcomed it with dizzy relief.
“Mine.”
He thrust home, deep and hard. Fiona’s entire body arched like a drawn bow and she screamed, a high, keening wail that shook her and threatened the glass in the windows. Her whole world exploded, a detonation that reverberated the heavens and left her limp, drained, and shaking. She had no strength left, could only watch while the man above her threw back his head and howled. She felt him pouring into her, filling her with heat and magic as his ancient, primitive cry of life and claiming echoed to the ends of the universe.