Black Is Back (Quentin Black Mystery #4) (28 page)

The guardian saw it, and that heat in his chest turned to a blacker smoke.

In those few seconds, the guardian had never wanted to kill anyone so much.

In those same few seconds, his mind grew razor sharp once more, clear.

The man with the black hair lost control of himself, not long after that. He caught hold of her as the guardian watched, wrapping a thick arm around her waist, and that time, she didn’t shove him away or resist. Gripping her with that long arm, he flipped her over so that she was under him, his muscular back catching the light of the orange street lamps as he did.

Then he was on top of her and they were moving together again, sinewy, languid thrusts that moved the skin over his flesh and bone. She wrapped her legs around him once they found a rhythm and he gripped her calf in one hand, arching into her harder, throwing his weight into it more as he pulled her leg around him.

The guardian stared at that broad back, at the image depicted there.

He watched it writhe under that fire-like light.

As he did, he found he understood.

For the first time in days, the doubt vanished entirely.

He knew exactly what it was he was supposed to do.

Eleven

VULNERABILITY

I WOKE UP naked, with muscular, tattooed arms wrapped around me from behind.

It shocked me at first. The simple reality of his presence all around me, physical and nonphysical, shocked me so badly that some part of me wondered if I was still dreaming.

Then a different part of me opened in a relief that felt borderline physical. I lost touch with myself in that, and the arms around me tightened, yanking me up deeper against a muscular chest, making me feel unbearably small next to him.

Pain expanded off him in a cloud, and the next thing I knew, he was massaging the front of my body, turning me so I was facing him...

Then he was kissing me.

His arms wound around my back as he yanked me harder against him, his fingers fisting in my hair. His tongue was hot, and I could barely breathe, but for some reason, instead of making me tense, it made me surrender in his arms even more.

I felt him reacting to that, his light flaring hotter the softer I got, until he was fighting to breathe, pain coming off him in erratic waves.

When he paused, what felt like a long few minutes later, his voice was a murmur.

“My turn, doc.”

He brought me with him to the floor, and it hit me only then, in confused images, that it was dark outside, that it was night still, that we weren’t in his apartment or mine. Then he was inside me, and I stopped caring about where we were, or even who might walk in on us. I let out a low groan when he extended inside me, and he slid a hand over my mouth, gasping as he held me to a rug on the floor under us.

“Gaos...”

The pain coming off him worsened as his presence flooded into mine. He was talking quieter then, in that other language, still gripping my hair in his hand, leaning his forehead against mine as he drove into me. I could feel him wanting me to soften more... so I did, opening my hands on him, caressing his face. For some reason it was easy this time, effortless. Truthfully, it was a relief. It was such a relief I groaned against his arm, fighting to be quiet.

I felt that part of me relax into him, so relieved to do it, to not have to fight him, to not have to fight myself. I felt his reactions ratchet up higher, until he was fighting to remain quiet too, his jaw clenched as he held me down, gripping my hips in his hands. I saw his eyes close as he drove into me again, and I wound my arms around him, then my legs, meeting him halfway when he did it again.

“Gaos
... Miri...” His voice was deep again, drugged sounding. He sank his teeth into my shoulder, and I felt him lose control.

When I opened to him more...

He came, bucking rhythmically against me.

I felt him go away somewhere in that, even as he kept his mouth against my neck and shoulder to muffle the groans coming from his chest. He’d barely finished when he turned me over, then he was inside me again, his whole weight pinning me now, even as he fought to breathe, gripping my hair in another fist.

He was talking to me again, even as his presence flooded into mine, suffocating but such a fucking relief. Such a relief...

He came again, hard, slamming into me with a violence that might have alarmed me before, but now only made me want him to do it again.

My whole body hurt, but I was so exhausted.

I was so tired of fighting this... of fighting him.

He kissed me while I thought it, while I opened to him more. I felt that relief cascading off him, relief and so much affection and heat and warmth I got lost there again, feeling his hands growing rough with me, even as everything I felt coming off him grew softer and softer, almost unbearably soft, until I found myself crying without knowing why, looking up at him and crying as he entered me again.

“Don’t leave me again...”

I blurted it, pain in my voice.

He slid to a stop, hanging over me, panting. I thought maybe I’d confused him, or shocked him, but then pain came off him in a violent wave, and he was crushing me in his arms again, pinning me to the floor.

“I’ll never leave you, Miri... never... I’ll never leave you...”

That pain in my chest only worsened though. I shook my head.

He would leave. He’d get tired of me, like he got tired of every woman he slept with.

He let out a heavier groan, indifferent to the volume that time. I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders when he extended, and I felt the pain of that mix with the hurt in my chest.

Everyone left. They all left me.

His hands tightened so much they hurt. He leaned his face against mine, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. So much of his heat was in me I couldn’t breathe. I felt possessiveness there, so intense it was choking me, making me fight to breathe all over again. Not just possessiveness...

He held me so tightly I could only lie there, panting against his neck.

Even then I didn’t try to fight him.

I opened, softening against him until he groaned again, a nearly helpless sound.

I saw him then, that kid I remembered with bare feet and a bruised face inside a barbed wire fence. I saw him, and I realized he was looking at me too.

I felt the promise there, in those gold eyes.

I felt it, even though neither of us spoke it aloud.

THE NEXT TIME I woke up, I found myself squinting against the light.

A single ray of sunlight had made its way through the clouds and fog sitting on the edge of the horizon and streaked across the surface of Angel’s rug and hardwood floor. That thread of light found my eyes where I lay on the hide-a-bed couch, making me blink and want to sneeze, then bury my head into the warm, tattooed arm that rested under my head.

I relaxed into him when his warmth intensified, as his muscular fingers caressed my neck and stroked my hair, massaging my side and the back of my neck.

Heat expanded off him, affection.

More than just affection.

He kissed me as I thought it, crushing me more tightly into his chest.

His presence around me intensified.

As it did, that relief came back over me, so intensely I could only lay there, pressed up against him, my fingers and hands wrapped around his arm. That relief nearly brought tears to my eyes, even as I felt that vulnerability swimming through me worsen. I’d never felt so completely ripped open before. It was like someone had cracked open my chest, revealing nothing but a beating heart, soft and made of fragile light.

I felt how he surrounded that in some way, surrounded me, and I felt strangely safe, in spite of knowing it was there.

I lay there a few minutes more, just so relieved that he was there with me.

Then reality set in.

My mind started showing me pictures of the previous night. Snapshots, only with sound, hard pulses of feeling. All three of those things––the images, the sounds, the feelings––grew more intense, the longer I watched. Heat swam over me the longer I watched too, but now it was no longer the good kind. Some combination of embarrassment, fear, disbelief and shame crawled over my skin, bringing a hard ball of nausea to my chest and making it hard to breathe. The longer I thought about the night before, the worse that feeling grew.

I’d hit him.

Not playfully. Not jokingly or as foreplay or as part of some kind of game.

I’d
hit
him... in anger.

I’d tried to hurt him.

I’d never hit anyone like that in my life. Even in the military, we didn’t fight in anger. We fought to protect ourselves, to protect other people. We fought in the ring for fun and to better our skills––I don’t think I’d ever been angry in the ring with anyone either, not even my instructors who went out of their way to try and push our buttons.

I’d never hurt anyone
deliberately,
with intent to harm them for emotional reasons.

I’d definitely never hit someone I was sleeping with before. I’d never tried to hurt an intimate partner. I’d never tried to hurt a friend.

The realization made me feel so sick I could barely breathe.

The arms around me tightened, enough that I knew he was definitely awake, not in the doze-y, half-awake state I’d felt him in before. I fought to blank out my mind, to decide what to do, how to get out of there, but he only pulled me deeper into his chest, kissing the back of my neck, heat flushing out of him in a hard plume.

“You’re fine,
ilya,”
he murmured. “Let it go. Seriously.”

That heat on him intensified, along with a plume of desire that blanked out my mind.

“Gaos...
Miriam. If you think I give a rat’s ass about that right now, you’re insane.”

I shook my head, fighting tears. “No. Black...
no.
Don’t blow this off. Please––”

“Relax,” he murmured. “Relax, honey. Everything’s okay.”

He kissed the back of my neck again, putting enough light and heat and presence into his tongue and chest that my mind stuttered out, lost as he began caressing my arms and belly with his hands. Fighting to pull my brain back online, I stared out the bay window and realized we were still in Angel’s house, in her front room. I also remembered that it was Sunday. Maybe I thought about that because she wasn’t awake yet, getting ready for work.