Chosen by Fate (25 page)

“I promise, little one, I’ll always be here for you if you need me.”

“You promise?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

She looked at the bed, then back at him.

“Will you find your pleasure . . . ?”

He shook his head.

“Why not? I’d want you to. That would only be fair.”

“I want this to be about giving you what you need. I’m not going to use you or take my pleasure from you when your heart isn’t in it.”

“You can make me want you. I know you can.”

“Oh yeah. I will, you can count on that. And that’s all you need to worry about.”

She swallowed hard. “What are the ground rules?”

“You put yourself in my hands. You do everything I ask. You don’t question me. Full trust not to hurt you. Full trust to teach you the pleasure I can bring you. Can you give me that, Lucy?”

She thought for a second of Caleb. She wanted it to be him saying those words to her, but she knew Dex was right. It was never going to happen that way. But she cared for Dex and knew he cared for her. Perhaps the way to beat her need was to accept it and work with it rather than against it. On her terms.

She nodded. “Okay. Everything you ask.”

Dex narrowed his eyes at her, his expression edged with a heat that made her shiver. “Be sure you understand what you’re saying. I can give you relief, Lucy, but I’m still going to be who I am. With sex, just as in every other aspect of my life, I need to dominate. That’s how it is with weres. I need you to do what I say. If you challenge me, that’s going to—going to bring out something in me that I don’t want you to see, little one. You’re not ready for it. Do you understand?”

He said it so calmly. So confidently. So she answered him just as calmly. Just as confidently. “I understand.”

“Okay. Then strip.”

Lucy’s heart hammered against her chest and the prickles of heat that had taunted her all day exploded into an inferno. Doubt crawled up her spine, and she stepped back despite herself.

“If you can’t even listen to me when I ask you to undress, Lucy, then this isn’t going to work. Is that what you want? Do you want me to leave?”

Panic rose in her throat. Her heart was beating so fast that her body seemed to vibrate from the impact. She couldn’t let him leave. She needed him. He was her best chance at controlling the heat that was overtaking her. Her best hope for doing what she needed to for her team.

She met his challenging stare. “No, I don’t want you to leave.”

She raised her hand to unbutton her shirt.

 

Dex forced his breathing to remain steady. He’d thought for sure that Lucy was going to bolt, but he’d underestimated her. And now his gaze was riveted to the sight of her small, elegant fingers slowly working her shirt buttons out of one hole and then the next. As each button loosened, a new patch of creamy skin was revealed.

Suddenly, despite his reluctance to make this offer, despite his doubts that he could actually have sex with a woman he cared for but didn’t strongly desire, he was glad. Because his body didn’t care what his mind didn’t feel. It saw Lucy for what she was—a sexy, vulnerable female who’d never been with a man before but so clearly needed one now. He needed to give her what she needed, and that meant forgetting that he was her friend for now. He needed to treat her like a lover, and that’s what he was going to do.

As she finished unbuttoning her blouse, his mind went blank with lust. She was no longer Lucy, but a sexy, warm, willing female willing to follow his every command for her own pleasure.

She removed her shirt, revealing small, rounded breasts encased in a utilitarian white sports bra. Her shoulders and arms looked smooth and creamy, her collarbone protruding delicately from one shoulder to the other.

He raised his gaze to hers and swallowed hard. Desire pooled in his belly, a heated simmer that slowly spread to his limbs, concentrating hotly between his legs. “Keep going.”

She unbuttoned the fly to her jeans and pushed them down. Her legs were gorgeous. Not overly long but toned. She stepped out of her jeans and stood in front of him. Chin high. Back straight. Her body quivered and her face was flushed, telling him that she was starting to feel more than think, as well.

Good girl.

“Lose the bra.”

She seemed to deflate before his eyes. For a second, she looked dazed, like a small animal caught in the beam of an oncoming semi. Dex refused to back down. If he was soft with her, tender, she’d associate this act with those emotions. He didn’t want to take the risk of creating that kind of emotional bond between them. It was for her sake as much as for his. One thing was for sure; he was going to give her so much pleasure, she’d think she was going to die.

“Take it off, Lucy. Now.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It gave him second thoughts. Maybe this wasn’t what she needed. Hell, maybe she could find someone at the club tomorrow that attracted her. A stranger . . . He was just about to tell her to forget the whole thing when she raised her hands to her bra and pulled it over her head.

Her breasts were tidy. Sweet. They wouldn’t fill his hands, but he bet they’d taste amazing. She held her arms stiffly to her sides, as if stopping herself from covering her chest only by sheer force of will.

“Now the panties.”

“Dex . . .” she whispered.

He steeled himself against compassion. “We’re almost there, Lucy. Take off your underwear and it’s a done deal. You won’t need to worry about not being yourself tomorrow or about writhing in pain because of the heat that you can’t satisfy. Instead, you’ll writhe with pleasure. Don’t you want that?”

She looked at him, and her mouth formed the word even though she didn’t utter a sound. “Yes.”

She pushed down her panties.

W
raith didn’t sleep again, but the fact that she had before—and despite her denials to Caleb, she knew she had—troubled her for two reasons. First, it had to mean she was going to die soon—sooner than she’d thought. Second, it had resulted in something else that had never happened to her—a dream. She’d been dreaming when Caleb had shaken her awake. Or having a nightmare, more precisely. Flashes of the nightmare flickered in and out of her mind, but they were fuzzy. Didn’t make any sense. Blond hair. A ballet slipper charm hanging on a gold chain. All innocuous objects. All filled her with a sense of fear and grief.

They were clues, she’d realized. Clues to who she was. Who she’d been before she’d been a wraith.

She’d desperately tried to fall asleep again, but couldn’t. She kept thinking of Caleb. Replaying the way she’d jerked off in front of him. Then later . . .

She was too worried about what the morning was going to bring. That she was going to have to face Caleb, and that meant facing the fact that she’d practically begged him to take her and he’d declined. True, after what she’d said to him after he’d helped her come the first time, she couldn’t blame him, but logic wasn’t controlling her. Embarrassment was.

Finally accepting that morning had arrived, Wraith dressed quickly, then cautiously stepped into the opening of the doorway adjoining their rooms and peeked in. Caleb wasn’t inside, but he’d left a note on the door.

“Gone to gym. Fourth floor. Come down if you want to let off some steam.”

Despite herself, her mouth quirked.

Leave it to Caleb to know exactly what she’d need to get through the morning with her pride intact. Without bothering to change out of her leathers or heels, she made her way down to the fourth floor. The gym turned out to be behind a solid closed door with no transoms, as was often the case in hotels. She was expecting it to be a typical hotel gym with a wimpy weight bench and an outdated treadmill. It wasn’t.

She opened the door and peeked inside.

Her mouth dropped open.

Across a large, cavernous space stood Caleb, his powerful chest and thickly muscled arms bare and on display. A pair of sweats rode low on his hips, the waistband drenched with sweat that was dripping from his temples, neck, and upper torso. He was alone, doing some fancy moves on the mat that looked like boxing punches combined with high kicks, lunges, and the occasional flip. As he changed position, a dark shadow on his right shoulder blade occasionally made an appearance before vanishing out of sight again.

It was a tattoo. A new one. One he hadn’t had the last time he’d been bare-chested in front of her. But that damn death mark was still there, too.

Glancing down, she stared at the three dots on the back of her hand, faded but still visible, on the fleshy area between her thumb and forefinger. She’d noticed the markings for the first time this morning. At first she thought they were freckles or moles, but then she wondered if they were some kind of tattoo. She’d looked up the primitive design on the web. To her horror, it seemed to be associated with gang members, used throughout the world by Crips and Bloods alike, but with varying meanings. Sometimes, it stood for
mi vida loca
—my crazy life. Often it symbolized a gang triad: individual, set, gang. A gang member was expected to make a reputation as an individual to begin with, but only with the expectation of furthering that reputation for his set, the group he ran with, then his gang, the larger group to which he belonged. Furthering one’s reputation usually meant creating a direct link between your name and someone else’s fear.

She hated it. Wondered if she’d hate herself completely if and when she ever did discover who she’d been. Maybe finding out her identity wasn’t such a good idea after all. But then again, wouldn’t it be better to know? Good or bad, the knowledge might bring her peace.

She moved closer, wanting to get a better look at Caleb’s tattoo.

A punching sound, like someone was beating a bag, caught her attention and turned out to be exactly that. Caleb was kicking the shit out of a heavy duffel punching bag. For a moment, Wraith wanted to slip inside, take a seat somewhere on the floor, and just watch the show. Watching Caleb work out could be as addicting as—

“If you’re going to come in, come in. Otherwise, you’re letting in a draft.”

Frowning, Wraith stepped inside. He’d stopped punching and swiped his arm across his forehead. She tried not to look at his bare chest, but that left his lower body or his face, both of which seemed too much for her to handle at the moment. She focused on his chin instead.

His gaze took in her clothes and the body beneath it.

“You really expect to work out in your leathers?”

“I do everything in my leathers, Caleb. You know that.”

“You weren’t in your leathers last night.”

No, she hadn’t been. As a result, she still felt the imprint of his hard body against hers. She also felt the small inklings of peace and satisfaction that had washed over her as he’d held her—just held her, soothing her and comforting her, asking her about her past as if he cared,
telling
her he and the team cared about her.

There was little evidence of that caring now, yet she knew instinctively it was still there. Without her quite realizing it, her eyes sought out the tattoo that even now was hidden from her.

He caught her looking. “What is it?”

She rubbed at the marking on her hand, then jerked her fingers away when she realized what she was doing. To cover, she used that hand to gesture to his shoulder. “You have a tattoo . . .”

He arched a brow then slowly turned until she could see it.

“It’s a yin yang symbol.”

Turning back to her, he nodded. “You familiar with what it means?”

“Two halves of one whole or something like that, right?”

His mouth tipped up. “Kind of. Chinese medicine focuses on the connection of mind and body to unite the yin and yang and to achieve a perfect exchange of energy.”

“Uh-huh.” Her voice was loaded with skepticism.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Oh no, I believe you. I’m just wondering what a shaman is doing studying Chinese medicine.”

His mouth stretched into a grin, one that made her eyes widen and her body tremble with desire. The man was lethal. “Earth People aren’t held back when it comes to spirituality. I’m a healer, and that means I rely on everything and anything I can to heal myself and others, body, mind, and soul.”

She felt almost mesmerized by his words. As if the intimacy they’d shared last night was wrapping around them even now, reminding them that they could never return to the place where they’d been. Distant. Hostile. No matter how hard she tried. Even as she fought that feeling, a small part of her was glad. “And how does the concept of yin and yang help you heal?”

He reached out and touched her cheek, testing, watching her closely to see if it hurt her. She shook her head slightly, telling him the touch hadn’t hurt her.

“It’s all about balance. The outer circle represents everything, while the black and white represents the interaction of yin and yang energy. Hot and cold. Male and female. Neither is absolute. Both are continuous. Illness is believed to be a disturbance in the balance of yin and yang. Sexuality is all about balancing the yin and yang between males and females.”

“Re-really? That . . . that’s interesting.” His fingers were rubbing her scalp in slow, firm circles. His touch, combined with the deep murmur of his voice, caused jolts of pleasure to shoot through her groin.

“A female’s genitals are internal yin, while a male’s are external. Emotionally, however, the opposite is true. The female yang finds it easier to express herself, while the male yang is more internalized.”

Caleb stopped the massage and pulled away, causing Wraith to groan in protest before she could stop herself. “That’s how a man and woman complement each other. How they balance each other’s energy. Sexually. Emotionally.” Caleb shrugged his shoulders. “That’s what I’ve read, anyway.” He leaned down, kissed her lips lightly, then stepped back.