A Touch of Crimson

Elijah jerked backward. “Don’t put that on me, Micah.”



“She trusts you—” The redhead erupted into violent, hacking coughing that left flecks of blood on both his lips and the pristine whiteness of his sheets.



“Rachel will be fine. I promise you that.”



“Not Rach—” He gasped. “Adrian’s woman . . . trusts you. You can abduct her . . . Leverage.”



Elijah pulled free of Micah’s grip, furious and sick that his best friend would dump this shit on him now. On his fucking deathbed. “Don’t do this,” he hissed. “Don’t ask me this. She risked her life for me.”



Micah’s head lifted from the pillow, his gaze an echo of its former fierceness. “Adrian will bend for her. Promise me. Step up. Make it happen. You can free them all. Only you.”



Lurching to his feet, Elijah stumbled out of the room.



“Blood oath, El,” Micah whispered, holding up his bloodied hand. Then he deflated into the bed, his chest rattling with every labored breath.



Elijah cleared the threshold. He looked at the lycans waiting outside the room. There were more of them now. A dozen familiar faces, all looking at him with somber, unwavering expectancy.



“You all put him up to this,” he accused. “You told him where I’ve been these last couple of weeks.”



Esther stepped forward. “Elijah—”



“You selfish fucking bastards.”



He looked at his hand and the already healing punctures marring it. With a roar, he shifted. Bursting free of his clothes, he vaulted forward in a powerful lunge that took him almost to the end of the building.



He rammed through the door to the outside and ran.



Lindsay was still gasping, trying to regain the breath Adrian had knocked from her, when he landed on the other side of the house. She heard the slide of a glass door at her back; then she was being carried through it and into a room containing a massive desk and a wall of overflowing bookshelves.



Leaning back in his embrace, she looked at his face. His features were stark, the skin stretched taut with fierce determination. Another door closed behind her, this one an interior door, and she was pushed up against it, pinned by Adrian’s hot, hard body. The drapes began their automated glide shut along with the sliding glass door, plunging the room into silence and darkness.



“Adrian . . .”



His mouth sealed over hers. He caught her wrists in his hands and pulled them above her head, one after the other. His tongue thrust into her mouth, a swift plunge that turned her on instantly.



The warm, vibrant scent of his skin filled her nostrils, wilder today than she’d remembered. Sexier.



She struggled against his grip and found her wrists tied to a coat hook on the back of the door. As his hands slid down her arms, she tugged to no avail, then grasped frantically with her fingers. Feeling lace, she realized he’d done that undressing thing with his thoughts and secured her to the hook with her own panties. A tentative squirm confirmed she was now commando in her jeans. “Let me go.”



“You’re not leaving me.” His voice was low and deceptively even, but the rigidness behind it was as tangible as the thong around her wrists.



Lindsay tugged again. The lace tore and immediately something stronger bound her to the door. When Adrian’s hands pushed up beneath her T-shirt and cupped her bare breasts, she realized it was her bra. A shiver moved through her. The only time she’d ever been held against her will was the day her mother had been killed. “Cut me loose, Adrian.”



His mouth latched on to the side of her neck. His fingers tugged her nipples into hard tight points. “No.”



Without volition, she arched into his hands, her breasts growing heavy and tender. “You’re upset. We should t-talk. We need to talk.”



“Not now.” He gripped her hips, making her aware that she was now completely nude. When a hair-dusted thigh pushed between her own, she realized he was naked, too.



Her breathing was loud in the otherwise quiet room. Her heart raced with a potent mixture of fear and forbidden desire. If it had been anyone else restraining her, she would’ve lost it. But it was Adrian, and the feel of his hands against her skin kept the terror she might have felt at bay.



“You should think about this.” She panted, attempting to wriggle away from his inflaming touch. “You don’t want this. You don’t want what’s going to happen to you if you do this.”



His cock glided between the slick lips of her sex. Lindsay froze. He was hot and hard, delectably long and thick.



“Does this feel,” he purred, “as if I don’t want this?”



She bucked when his lips wrapped around her nipple. The coat hook creaked in protest but held fast. Adrian didn’t have the hollow particleboard doors that would have given her a chance to escape. The solid wood his architect had used was more than strong enough to take her weight and abuse.



He drew on her breast with long, deep pulls of his wicked mouth. Her good intentions started to melt away.



“I’m afraid—” She spoke the lie, hoping it would deter him.



“I know. You’re on fire with it.” He parted the lips of her sex and stroked a fingertip through the silken liquid of her desire. “You’re always so fearless, but you trust me enough to be afraid.”



Her moan echoed through the room. She was achingly aware that the hallway must be on the other side of the door behind her, along with a dozen or more angels who disliked and distrusted her for this very reason—she reduced their leader to a mere man, with all the weaknesses and lusts and desire for comfort that came with that mortal state. “Stop this.”



“I can’t.” He kissed her again. A hot, wet, lush kiss that spoke of a man who’d crossed his limits at some point in the days they’d been apart. “I won’t.”



“God, Adrian.” She writhed in his grip as he captured her neglected nipple in his mouth, his tongue licking and worrying the rigid peak. “Why won’t you let me save you?”



He released her with a soft pop, then straightened to rub his temple against hers. “There’s nothing to save. It’s all falling apart.”



The painful emotion in his words broke her heart. She longed to pull him close and embrace him, to soothe his torment. But she couldn’t move, had only her voice with which to comfort him. “Tell me what happened.”



“Later.” He slid down her body. His lips brushed between her cleavage; then his tongue darted into her navel. When he nuzzled between her legs, Lindsay bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. Beneath her distress at being immobilized in the dark and her worry over Adrian’s volatile mood, she was ferociously aroused. In an untenable situation. She couldn’t forget how exposed they were and how many people—angels—were nearby.



“Don’t do this. You’ll regret it.”



“I regret not doing it.” He held her open with his thumbs. The tip of his tongue fluttered maddeningly over her clitoris. As her sex clenched in greedy hunger, a rough noise escaped him. “I should have finished what we started in Vegas. I should have ignored the damn door and fucked you until you’d never even think about leaving me.”



His serrated voice revealed his anguish and cut her deeply. She wanted to push her fingers into his hair and hold him close. She wanted to gentle him with soft strokes of her hands down his back. She wanted to give him the freedom to put down his burdens in total safety, away from the eyes of those who needed him to be strong all the time. But doing so would make him confront what ate at him, when what he wanted now was the oblivion he could find in her body.



Oblivion she couldn’t offer him. Not at the price he would pay for it.



Adrian caught her right leg behind the knee. He lifted it over his shoulder, opening her to the sudden thrust of his tongue. Her back arched and her head hit the door, the thud reverberating through the room and surely out into the hallway as well. He either didn’t hear or didn’t care. His mouth was buried in the slick folds of her sex, his tongue shoved as deep into her as he could go. He worked her tender flesh with rapacious hunger, as if he could drink her in. Consume her. Brand her body with his scorching, intimate kiss. She trembled and gasped, her toes curling so tightly they began to cramp. She hung on to that twinge of pain, fighting the orgasm he was determined to force on her.



His abrupt, drawn-out groan brought tears to her eyes, the sound so lost and desolate.



“It’s not t-too late,” she managed through heaving breaths. Hot tears fell onto her breasts, her heart torn because she knew it was too late. They were both too far gone to turn back now. They’d passed the point of no return the moment she killed the dragon in front of him. She could have walked away from the kill just that once, but she hadn’t. She’d bared her most personal secret within hours of meeting him, as if she’d needed him to see her for who she really was.



Still, she fought the inevitable because she cared about him. Deeply. So deeply that the thought of him suffering for her made her insane. “You can stop this, Adrian. Before it goes too far.”



He growled then, a deep rumbling sound of aggression and determination. He latched on to her clitoris and sucked in rapid, forceful rhythm. A steady, drawing tempo that kicked her into an explosive climax. Her perspiration-slick body was wrenched by brutal spasms of release, devastated by a scorching pleasure she couldn’t defend herself against.



Turning his head, Adrian wiped his wet mouth on her inner thigh. Then he shrugged out from under her leg and stood.



“What do you consider too late and too far?” he asked with dangerous softness. “I’ve already been inside you. With my fingers. My tongue. My cock.”



Her eyes squeezed shut and her head hung limply. She struggled to regulate her breathing, to regain some control over her own body. Even shrouded in darkness, Lindsay felt raw and exposed, seared by his blistering emotional turmoil. “T-technically, yes,” she managed between deep gulps of air. “But you stopped. You restrained yourself once. You can do it again.”



“Technically, you say.” His hands cupped the cheeks of her ass and squeezed roughly. His teeth nipped at the upper swell of her breast, over her heart, hard enough to hurt. The tightly leashed control she associated with him was gone. He was ruthless, predatory, single-minded in his need to dominate her from the outside in. “Neither of us came, so it doesn’t count?”



He hefted her up and yanked her legs around his hips. A heartbeat later he was penetrating her with his brutally hard erection. She shuddered and strained to accommodate him, but he took a swift step forward and drove himself in to the root.



Pinned to the door, she whimpered in exquisite agony. Although primed by a half dozen nights of tender, erotic dreams, she still needed time to adjust to his size.



“Please,” she whispered, although she didn’t know what she was asking for. To stop? To start? To never give up, even though she begged him to? She couldn’t say yes—not when she knew what he was risking. But she couldn’t stem the selfish longing that wanted him to refuse to accept no for an answer. There was nowhere else she’d rather be than right where she was, but her refusal wasn’t about her. It was about him and what was best for him.



She heard the rustle of Adrian’s wings, felt the soft breeze they created as they unfurled and moved. That telltale kiss of air betrayed the emotions he fought to hide.



“No,” she moaned, a final, futile effort to save him.



One of his hands went to her hair, lifting her head so he could take her mouth. His lips slanted across hers, his lungs inhaling her every gasping exhalation. He rolled his hips and screwed deep into her, grinding with just enough pressure to stimulate her swollen, sensitized clitoris. Lindsay’s body tensed in heated expectation, her greedy sex rippling along the length of his throbbing penis.



His breath caught. His irises flared bright enough to delineate the sclera of his eyes and the thickness of his lashes in the darkness. He exhaled into her lungs. “No more technicalities.”



Adrian came so hard she felt it like a deep, hard thrust inside her. The violent jerking of his spending cock . . . the wash of molten liquid that caused sweat to slide between her breasts . . .



Her orgasm took her by surprise.



She shook with the unexpected surge of pleasure, her blood roaring through her ears so that she barely heard him moan her name.



The need to sob and cry out welled inside her. Lindsay caught his neck in her teeth, biting down to stem the sounds she wanted no one else to hear.



“Yes,” he hissed, thrusting mindlessly. “Fuck yes.”



Her wrists were freed. Her arms fell to his shoulders, her muscles twitching and tingling from the strain of pulling for freedom.



He pivoted away from the door, carrying her unerringly in the dark—still joined, still coming. He sat, and Lindsay felt cushions beneath her knees. A love seat, maybe. Or an armless chair. Her jaw unclenched, releasing his throat, and her head lifted. Behind her, a soft glow built like a light on a dimmer switch—a barrister’s desk lamp illuminating gradually until she could see everything in the room.



She looked upon his face, her heart thudding with joy at the sight of him. He was flushed, his eyes feverishly bright, his lips swollen from the ferocity of his kisses. But what ruined her was the moisture glistening on his lashes.



Tears. From her indomitable, implacable angel.



“It’s already too late,” he said hoarsely, wiping her own tears from her cheeks with soothing strokes of his thumbs. “Do you understand?”



She nodded.



He kissed the marks on her wrists left by the bonds he’d restrained her with. “I know you wanted to protect me from this. I tried to let you, but I can’t.”



“I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry I—”



“Don’t.” His head fell back. Upholstered in black suede, the love seat they occupied framed Adrian’s dark splendor and offset his rich olive-toned skin. “Don’t apologize for caring enough to be strong when I’m weak. Don’t be sorry for being the one thing that makes me happy.”