Enigma (19 page)

“You’ve always got my back, Lenoir.” Which was something else he hadn’t asked—whether the focus would leech power from the remaining tattoos, taking what was left of his preternatural speed and strength.

He turned to ask Michelle and froze. The Seer had a crossbow in one hand, a vicious battle ax in the other, and on the table in front of her—

Mine.

The thought came from nowhere, as inexplicable as his reaction to the sword resting on the table. It was a simple, double-fullered sword with a straight crossguard and a rawhide grip, almost painfully plain compared to the decorative ax in Michelle’s hand. That looked like a fantasy recreation of a weapon, complete with glinting jewels and intricate scrollwork.

The sword was just a sword, elegant and deadly, and his hand itched to wrap around the hilt.

Michelle studied his expression before tilting her head. “One is resonating with you. Which is it?” She lifted the crossbow. “The bow?”

He shook his head. “The sword.”

“Ah.” She turned to set the other weapons aside. “I should have known.”

Her baby squawked and wiggled as Nick leaned over to get a better look at the sword. “Substance over flash. I approve.”

“You would,” Michelle replied with a laugh. “All three are magically attuned to a specific sort of person. The crossbow appeals to hunters. Not merely the literal kind—Kat’s fascinated by it. She hunts for knowledge.” She stroked her finger along the intricate handle of the ax, leaving Patrick with little doubt about which weapon she was drawn to. “And this appeals to warriors. People who would burn the world and everyone in it to the ground for the people they love.”

He couldn’t help a tiny shiver at those words on a Seer’s lips. If Michelle wanted to burn down the world, she probably could. “What about the sword?”

Michelle laughed and touched the hilt. “This? This is for heroes.”

Chapter Thirteen

Anna managed to keep it together until they made it back to the guest house—a small miracle when you considered the panic clawing her up from the inside. Instinct gripped her, desperate and inescapable.
Hide. Protect.

Care.

“Hey.” Patrick laid his hands on her shoulders as soon as the door closed behind them. “There’s nothing to worry about, all right? I’m safer than I’ve been in months.”

So solicitous, as if
he
was the one who had to protect
her
. “According to Michelle, that’s not saying very much, is it?”

“No.” He tugged, pulling her back against his chest. “But I’m a bounty hunter. I was never all that safe to start with.”

A wave of nausea rolled over her. “Not helping.”

“Sorry.” He sounded contrite as he pressed his thumbs into the tight muscles between her shoulders and kneaded coaxingly. “By this time tomorrow, I’ll have a goddamn magical fucking sword. One that smites the people I hate, apparently.”

She laughed, because the alternatives were few and unappealing. “I’ll be sure and watch my back.”

“Pretty sure that’s what the sword’ll be doing.” He worked one thumb up to her nape. “I have this mental image of it leaping off my back to chase Alec around the room the next time he tries to hand us a job.”

His concern clashed with her worry, jumbled together in a stifling tangle of emotion that threatened to cut off her air. She’d dragged him here, and now she needed to get away, if only for long enough to get herself under control and break the cycle. “I need a shower. I’ll be back in a minute.”

The tip of his finger brushed her ear, but he didn’t invite himself along, just stepped back, giving her room to breathe. “All right.”

She locked the bathroom door behind her, turned on the water—as hot as it would go—and stripped out of her clothes. She’d planned to stare at the tile and take a few moments to center herself before she had to face what her hysterical fear truly meant.

Instead, she scrubbed, as if she could wash away the dread beneath her skin.

But she couldn’t. She’d finally opened up, let Patrick in, only to find that any moment before could have been his last. She’d spent months ignoring his calls, punishing both of them for Christ only knew what, and now—

He could have died.

Worse, she could have had to face him down and been the one to pull the trigger.

Shivering despite the heat, she climbed out of the shower and wrapped one of the plush towels around her body like armor before heading back into the bedroom. Patrick was sprawled on the bed, his shoes and shirt discarded, his attention focused on his phone. The wooden charm Michelle had given him to contain his magic in the short-term lay against the center of his chest.

Anna couldn’t look away from it. The truth weighed heavy on her tongue, bitter and metallic, and all she could do was get it out. “I can’t lose you.”

Patrick set his phone aside and held out one arm in silent invitation.

She didn’t move. “I’ve been careful. There’s never been anyone I
couldn’t
lose.”

“I know.” He sounded so sad, like he hurt for her. “I’m sorry.”

The towel hit the floor as she crawled onto the bed, into the circle of his arm. “So am I. I didn’t used to be, but I am now. Because I don’t know how to do this.”

“That’s not why I’m sorry.” He pulled her against him, into the warmth of his body. “I don’t know how to do this either. But I know that loving and losing isn’t the scariest part.”

“So what is?”

His hand curled around the back of her neck before sliding up into her hair. “Not having anything to lose.”

In the wake of Ben’s death, Patrick had come close to that darkness himself. If Julio hadn’t tried so damn hard to hold him back from that precipice, Anna would have stepped in. Anything. “I would have helped you. I would have brought you home.”

“I know.” His fingers tangled abruptly, tugging her head back so she had to meet his eyes. “I was crazy, Anna, not stupid. I knew you were watching me. Do you understand?”

“No.” His gaze held her bound, demanded more truth. “I’ve never understood you. Why you don’t just walk away.”

He rolled them with an effortless flex of muscle, bringing her body beneath his. “Because I’m not scared of a little pain. Not when the payoff’s this good.”

His skin on hers sparked instant heat, a singing need in her blood. “Patrick—”

His mouth caught her words, stealing her breath as he slicked his tongue over her lips and then past them. He made his case with lazy licks and soft nips, turning
good
into an inadequate word.

She’d always wanted him, from that first electric moment of awareness. Lust at first sight. This was something else—caresses that were familiar instead of exploratory, ways he’d learned to coax her into a slower, deeper arousal.

Not just sex. Intimacy.

He pulled away before she had a chance to cope with the realization, nipping his way down her neck before lingering at the hollow of her throat. His teeth closed over her pulse, and Anna arched—away from the bite, closer to him. All of it at once.

“Shh.” His breath whispered over her skin as his body pressed down on hers, holding her in place for a soothing lick. “I’ve got you, Anna.”

Her thumb brushed the leather cord around his neck. The charm was digging into her ribs, and the slight edge of pain was enough to ground her. “It’s not that. It’s hard not to take control, whether I want it or not.”

His mouth drifted lower, settling on the swell of her breast. “You don’t have to hold back for me.”

It made sense for him to assume as much. “Not for you. For myself, so I know that I can.”

He shifted an inch to the right, and his breath danced over her nipple. “Just promise me you’ll still let go.”

That was one thing she
knew
she couldn’t stop, the moment when she opened up to him and he saw everything. He’d always been able to do that—right from the start, without the damn sex—and now she wondered if he even realized it. “I promise.”

“Good,” he rasped, and drew her nipple into the blazing heat of his mouth.

Too much. Her first instinct was to push him away, but her body had different ideas. By the time she gripped his shoulders, she was pulling him closer, already sliding her fingers up into his hair. “Yes.”

He obliged her by lingering, coaxing her to arch and moan with hot licks and a hint of teeth. Then he was gone, moving lower, trailing kisses and nips in his wake.

He settled between her parted thighs, the sheer width of his shoulders pushing them wider. Everything about him was big, but there was nothing clumsy about the way he touched her, his fingers stroking against and then inside her as his tongue explored in long, lazy licks.

Oh, God.

She didn’t remember deciding to move, but her hips bucked anyway. Patrick pressed her back to the bed with his free hand, holding her down as he curled his fingers inside her. A heady, confusing jumble of tension and pleasure burned through her, the battle between a quick orgasm and the promise of something slower. Deeper.

“That’s right,” he whispered, urging her past the easy option. “Just feel me.”

Anna clutched at the covers, the headboard, but the only thing that was constant—steady—was Patrick. The hand on her stomach anchored her, and she held on to it desperately.

He brought her to the brink like he’d been doing it for years, right to the painful point where she’d have to beg in her next breath. But he didn’t make her. He sucked her clit between his lips with an encouraging groan, and the sudden shock of it hurtled her over the edge.

She went spinning, the world as out of control as the pleasure quaking through her, but Patrick—

Steady.

He leaned over her, his forehead pressed to hers and his fingers still deep inside her. “Just like that. Again.”

A shudder wracked her, bumping her head against his, and she never, ever wanted it to stop. “Fuck me.”

“I am,” he answered, all argument vanquished as he worked a third broad finger into her, bringing his thumb up to rub slow, determined circles over her clit.

It blazed the fire to life again, burning through all the parts of her that were still tense, tingling. “Then don’t stop.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on when the spinning picked up speed. “I need you.”

“Look at me.” His free hand curled in her hair, holding her head so she had no choice but to meet his eyes. “I’m here. Right here.”

So close. The only thing between them was the wooden charm, cool and still between their heated skin, and Anna hated it just then, hated that there was anything at all. “Please—”

He whispered the command against her lips. “Let me feel you come.”

She did, because he was holding her so tight. Bound, from his fingers in her hair to the fingers inside her, his body wrapped around hers. Anna fell into him, relishing the pull on her hair and clench of muscle, the way his heart beat too fast. Hers was faster, racing to take in every spark of sensation exploding through her.

He groaned his approval a moment before his lips crashed into hers. He kissed her as the world dissolved into heat, as she shook apart, and then it was his hips between her legs, his cock pressing into her.

Anna gripped his back, tried to urge him faster with the sharp bite of her nails in his skin. But he took her slowly, even when he lifted his head and she saw the sparks in his eyes—actual fucking
sparks
, orange and yellow sizzling up out of their usual deep blue.

His jaw clenched as he braced his free hand next to her shoulder and worked himself deeper with slow, rolling movements. No words, just his burning eyes and him filling her,
taking
her. But what should have been possession felt more like supplication, an offering.

His pleasure now that he’d tasted hers.

Anna exhaled as the charm against her skin began to heat up. “You need me too.”

“Yes.” It was half-groan, uttered as his hips came to rest against hers. And—as if that wasn’t enough—he slid his free hand down her body and under her knee, dragging her leg up his side. “All of you.”

“Yours.”
Everything,
she swore silently as she locked her legs around his waist. Everything, even if it scared the hell out of her.

His lips curved into a slow, devastating smile. “Yeah?”

“I pr—” A moan swallowed Anna’s words as he rocked deeper, his pubic bone pressing against her clit. “Fuck.”

He tugged at her hair, dragging her gaze back to his. “That’s right. Stay with me. Feel all of me. Feel how fucking much I need you.”

“I am. I
know
.” She arched off the bed, rolling her hips up to meet his next slow rock with a hard snap.

When he groaned, the air crackled with the threat of power. The charm prickled against her skin but held, containing the storm of magic as Patrick unleashed a different kind. Bracing both hands beside her head, he lifted his upper body, giving her an unrestricted view of the swirls of ink over his flexing muscles as he slammed into her hard enough to drive her up the bed.

She didn’t give a damn if her head hit the wall, but losing contact with him, even for mere seconds, was unthinkable. So she grabbed onto the headboard and braced her body for his next deep thrust.