A Soul So Wicked (Moon Chasers) (19 page)

The hotel lobby was deserted save for the desk clerk. He smiled and gave her a nod of recognition as she moved to the elevator bank.

She pushed the button for floor 7 and waited, tapping her foot against the tiled floor. A slight breeze rustled the hair framing her face, warm enough for her to gasp and whirl around.

Her heart beat like a drum in her chest as she scanned the lobby. “Balthazar?” she whispered.

She peered at every shadow hugging the corners, trying to gauge whether it was more than a simple shadow, if the air hadn’t just heated up a notch.

“You okay?” the desk clerk called out to her.

She nodded, trying to stop herself from shaking. After all these years, Balthazar could still strike terror in her heart. She hated that. It
made her feel so weak. But she knew it would never change.

It was a sobering thought. Made everything in her life, in her future, seem pointless. A reminder that friends, relationships… love—she couldn’t have any of that.

“Fine. Thank you.” The elevator pinged open behind her. Turning, she stepped inside and punched 7.

On the short ride up, she struggled to settle her nerves. Walking down the corridor, she took several bracing breaths. She didn’t want Darius to ask her a bunch of questions because she looked like a basket case. She was stronger than this.

She flexed her fingers around her key card, hesitating. How was she supposed to act around him? The last time they had been alone they had been all over each other. She couldn’t expect that to continue. She bit her lip. She hoped he wouldn’t try to talk about last night. Or apologize for what was clearly a one-night stand. That would be the worst. Sure, it had been a mistake, but if he actually said that—

The door opened before she finished the thought.

Darius stood on the other side, his large frame filling every inch of the doorway. She
offered an awkward smile, acutely aware that this was the first time they were alone in this room since they’d made love.

He moved aside for her to enter. She walked in and dropped her bag on the chair. Then she turned around to recap the night at the police station, but he didn’t give her the chance.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, his hands on either side of her face, holding her firmly but gently—as though he feared she would slip away.

The kiss consumed her. It felt like the kiss of someone denied a lifetime of kisses. Not like they had just been together hours ago. Her arms snaked around his neck.

Apparently last night hadn’t been a one-time occurrence for him. He backed her into the bed, his hands working feverishly at her clothes as their bodies fell down together on the mattress. His mouth devoured hers, breaking away only long enough to pull her top over her head.

Next came her bra, her boots, her leggings. He left her for a moment and she blinked, dazed and panting, her body aching, arching, yearning for him.

“Darius,” she cried hoarsely.

He was back before she finished his name.

“I’m here,” he growled. Every hot, smooth
inch of him covered her. His flesh glided against hers, rough in certain spots and smooth in others. The air between them was charged, electric. His hand burned a path over her skin.

She sighed, breathed his name. It was as if he read her mind, knew what she wanted, what she liked. She moaned when he touched her neck, pressed his hot lips just behind her ear where he flesh was the most sensitive.

“Oh God, I love that…”

“What about this?” His dark head dipped to her breast.

She cried out when his wet mouth closed over her aching nipple.

A deep growl rumbled from his chest and she felt the vibration against her. It reminded her of what he was… what he wasn’t. Still, it couldn’t make her stop wrapping her legs around his hips and angling her pelvis to meet him. She squeezed an arm between them and closed her fingers around his erection.

“Tre.” He dragged his mouth up her throat again.

She slid her hand up and down the length of him, her thumb rolling over his velvety head.

The flesh rippled over his clenched jaw. “Stop. Unless you want to finish this before I’m even inside you.”

“You feel so good,” she purred, positioning his cock against her, rubbing his head against her opening, letting her moisture tease him.

With a snarl that thrilled her to the bone, he seized her wrists and pressed them back onto the bed. Thrusting his face close, he nipped at her lips. “Witch.”

She smiled up at him and nipped him back. “Don’t like it? What are you going to do about it?”

His expression was savage in his need, those silver eyes of his afire. His hips settled firmly between her thighs, nudging them wider urgently.

She cried out with pleasure, arching her throat as he entered her, hard and swift, in one smooth stroke. Her body accepted his fullness, greedily adjusting to the invasion, her muscles tightening and clenching around his hard length.

He held himself perfectly still for one moment, a predator before the final pounce.

Together they basked in the union of their bodies. And then it was no longer enough. She worked her hips, taking him deeper, doing everything in her power to get him to move.

He bore down, pressing her hands deeper into the bed. He dropped his head, growling
into the crook of her neck as he pulled himself almost fully free of her before lodging himself deep inside her again.

She bit into his shoulder, licked at the clean saltiness of his skin, and that enflamed him, pushing him over the edge. He pumped in and out of her, fast and deep, hitting that spot that made her come apart, writhe and buck beneath him. His hands released her wrists and his palms flattened over hers, his fingers lacing with hers as he drove into her again and again.

There was nothing soft or gentle about it, but she didn’t want that. She wanted this. Wanted to be taken, wanted to be desired so desperately that there was no thought of softness or tenderness.

His hands finally slid free, gripping her hips and bringing her off the bed, better angling her hips for him.

Her hands moved of their own volition, gripped the taut cheeks of his ass in both hands. She clenched her inner muscles, pulled him to her and urged him on, faster.

There was only need.

He slid one hand beneath her hip, bringing her closer. His other hand slid beneath her neck, weaving up through her hair. With a slight tug on the strands, he pulled her head back, arching
her throat for his lips, his open mouth hot on her skin. His teeth lightly grazed the cords of her neck, stopping directly over her sensitive pulse to suck and lave with his tongue. Her flesh turned to gooseflesh and she shivered, a moan swelling up from her throat.

His mouth devoured hers as he plunged in and out, loving her in a way completely unlike last night. This was uninhibited, with all the desperation of two wild animals. He took what he needed, pounding into her ruthlessly, and she didn’t care because she wanted it, too. Needed it. Needed him.

Her hips rose to meet him and she cried out as he drove into her harder, clutching her hips as if she were a lifeline, the only thing keeping him grounded to earth.

Her heart swelled even as she reminded herself that this was only lust. It could never be anything more. Anything lasting. The memory of this would be all she had to keep for the countless years ahead.

It would have to be enough. She’d make it so.

* * *

D
ARIUS ROLLED TO HIS
back and pulled her close against his side, not giving her time to consider leaving him. He’d be fine staying in
this bed with her indefinitely, unrealistic as that plan might be. For now, he’d let himself fantasize.

She held herself stiffly at first. Then she relaxed, her breath escaping in a soft gust as everything inside her eased and she melted against him. He stroked a hand up and down the elegant line of her spine.

He couldn’t help touching her, holding her close. Almost like he thought she would disappear. He trailed his fingers up and down her bare arm in an easy stroke, languid and gentle.

“What happened to you?” she whispered. “You know, besides me… my curse?”

His hand stilled, her words an uncomfortable reminder of what she was and why he had set out to find her. It’s not that he ever forgot. But without talking about it, he’d been able to ignore the ugly facts.

Everything came to a screeching stop inside him as the memories of the past washed through like acid.

“I don’t talk about it.” He never had. Who would he share it with? It’s not like he had a life teeming with people. Friends and family were what others had—not him. Helen was the only one who truly cared about him, but
he had never wished to burden her with the details of his past. She was already unaccountably bound to him. He didn’t want to give her any more reason to pity him. He wanted her to feel free to leave him at any time.

“You know about me,” she reasoned. “All of my foul deeds. You can’t be nearly as awful.”

“You’re not awful,” he replied, his voice gruff, his hand stroking her sweet flesh again. He propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at her, admiring her breasts. Not large, but a perfect fit for his palms. The dusky nipples. His mouth dried, hungering for their taste.

She gasped hoarsely as he played with them. “Fooled you, then, haven’t I?”

He stroked a fingertip over one dusky nipple, enjoying the way it immediately pebbled. “You made a mistake.”

“That’s beyond generous of you.” Her hand came to his chest. Her fingers played lightly against the flex of his muscles. “I made a
mistake
that’s led to thousands dying and suffering. Seems like there should be another word for that.” Before he could object, she continued, “It’s your turn. What happened to you?”

He leaned down to suckle at one breast, his teeth nipping the turgid peak, stopping only
when she was arching beneath him and threading her fingers through his hair.

His gaze narrowed in on her face. “I was a monk.”

She jerked slightly, lifting up on her elbows to look at him. “You were a religious man?”

“Does that surprise you?”

She stared at him with those brilliant eyes for a long moment, glancing down at her body, flushed from his lovemaking. “Umm…” Her voice faded.

He chuckled. Reaching down, he pushed her hair back behind her ear. “I was destined for Lindisfarne before I could even walk. My uncle was a monk there, and he visited me often when I was a boy. I was the youngest of my family. There were four brothers ahead of me. When I was eight years, my uncle took me. It was never asked of me what fate I preferred. My parents were glad to see me gone and settled into a good and noble vocation.” His mouth twisted. “One less mouth to feed.”

“Did you like it there?”

“It was all I knew. The monastery and the farm.” He shrugged one shoulder. It felt odd. This… sharing,
confiding
. “I was never a scholar. Not like the other brothers. I mostly worked the fields, brought in the crops
that supported the monastery. We took in travelers… pilgrims. It was part of our service to God. Guests excited me. They’d been places. Seen things. Done things outside our little island.” His chest tightened at the memory. “Almost laughable, isn’t it? Considering I’ll have seen… all I’ve done since?”

She stared at him thoughtfully for a long moment, her hair a fan of dark ink around her face. “We were all innocent once,” she murmured. “Naïve in our own worlds.”

He nodded. “Yeah.” Looking into her eyes, he believed there was still a part of her that was innocent. He tasted it in her kiss. Something in her that was still good and pure. He couldn’t feel this way about her otherwise.

Shaking his head, he pulled her to him and kissed her until he couldn’t think anymore. Not about the past. Not about the future.

He slid his hands down the smooth slope of her back, his fingers gliding over each bump of her vertebrae, delighting in the sensation of her silky skin against his palms.

Tresa, like this, hot and wanting in his arms, was the only thing he cared about right now.

T
WENTY

I
t was midday before they forced themselves from the hotel room. They’d ordered room service and eaten in bed, wearing nothing but the hotel’s plush robes. Sharing an enormous plate of Belgian waffles dripping with maple syrup, Tresa had fooled herself into believing that the outside world had ceased to exist. That they could stay lovers forever.

A fantasy that was dashed the moment she stepped over the threshold. It felt like she was leaving behind the last bit of pleasure and happiness she’d ever have again.

With one last glance over her shoulder at the rumpled bed, she turned back around. She didn’t want to leave the sanctuary of this room—didn’t want to make it just a memory and put it in the past with every other good thing that had ever happened to her.

She wanted to freeze herself in this moment with Darius forever. She hadn’t thought she’d
have this. She didn’t deserve it, but now that she had experienced this happiness… she didn’t know how she was going to survive the next thousand years without it.

Darius took her hand as they moved down the hall and stepped inside the elevator. It was easy and automatic, like they were any other couple. Already she knew his touch so well, the texture of his skin, the shape of his hand against her own.

She glanced at him a few times, trying to reconcile him with the furious lycan who’d crashed into her world. He walked beside her, holding her hand as if this was the most normal thing in the world. His expression was relaxed, peaceful, the hard lines less severe—nothing like the man who’d been so eager to destroy her.

“You ready for this?” he asked when they were in the car, heading into a part of the city she hadn’t yet seen. The GPS announced the directions.

She nodded. They had agreed on what needed to be done. Her stomach clenched at the thought, because it meant moving forward, reaching a resolution and putting this intimacy between them to a halt. Tresa was wise enough to know that when the witch was captured, she
herself would return to avoiding Balthazar in subarctic climates. And Darius… Well, he had his own demons to avoid—namely himself, each and every full moon.