Nightfall (14 page)

“Oh, it will be,” he said, as he leaned into his ear. “I’ll bury it in you, sate myself in you, fuck you until you scream. But not yet.”

Her knees weakened, and her hips were wild, matching his thrusts as she cried out again and again. Her hands were desperate for something to hold on to. She caught at his shoulders, clutching his shirt in fists, then reached behind her, finding branches of the tree in her hands. It gave her leverage that she desperately needed, wanted, to tip her hips forward, and he groaned in satisfaction as he was able to slide his finger a little deeper inside of her. Faster and harder, she was able to meet his thrusts now, and she cried out hard and fast as the orgasm slammed into her, leaving her sagging. If not for his weight pressing her into the tree, she might have fallen to the ground. “Now,” she whimpered. “Fuck me now.”

“More,” he growled. He took a bare moment to yank her jeans down to her knees, and then lifted her up again. She had to go up on her tiptoes to move with him, but his hand was back in her panties, and it almost hurt to have him touching her, her body so sensitive, but her belly was clenching again with lust and need and want, and she found herself wondering if there was something on the other side of these orgasms, of this sheer need. She managed to kick off her jeans entirely, and found that he was meeting her with three fingers now, three soaking fingers slamming into her body, and it was too much, far too much, only she was coming again, bursting already, biting viciously into his shoulder. It wasn’t enough to choke back the scream, not really, but it muffled it, which was something.

He yanked at his belt one-handed as he pressed her up against the tree, supporting her ass. He slid the condom on with the free hand, then managed to pull back and look at her. “How much do you like these panties?”

They were her favorite pair, actually, pretty lace that matched her bra, but she didn’t give a good goddamn right then. “They’re replaceable.”

“Thank God,” he said, and yanked them sharply. She heard the fabric shred and fall away, and then his cock was teasing against her, sliding through her cleft, but not entering her.

“Jesus, no more teasing, please fuck me.”

He laughed in her ear, then bit her ear lobe. She cried out and felt her pussy clench again. “How many times can you come for me?”

“Julian—”

He slapped her ass viciously hard, and she whimpered again. “Answer my question, little bitch.”

The first time he’d used the nickname, she’d felt vaguely ashamed at it. Now, it felt possessive, almost sweet in its tone. “On my own, I’ve managed two or three. With someone else—you’re the best I’ve ever had.” She didn’t say it to flatter him, but because it was true. He hissed at it all the same, and she felt him pulse against her, grow just a little bit harder through some sort of miracle.

All his rushing of before was gone, though there was still nothing gentle about his movements. He rocked against her roughly, dragging the tip of his cock over her clit again and again, and she felt beyond amazing, though another orgasm seemed impossible. He was so big, so thick, and she wanted to wrap around him. She tipped her hips to try and slide him inside of her, but he dodged her easily. Even though she’d had most of his hand in her body just moments before, she felt like she’d have to stretch to fit him. And that was just fine.

“Why are you torturing me?” she whimpered, as the just the tip of him caught in her entrance, and she felt him shudder as he fought for control.

“Hell if I know,” he said, and pressed forward. The feeling of her pussy stretching, accommodating him, was delicious, and she rocked to pull him in farther. He drew back a bit before pressing forward, and she cried out, desperate to feel him buried in her, feel their hips touching. “Faster,” she whimpered. “Harder.”

His teeth nipped at her lower lip. “You’re a good little pet,” he panted. Beads of sweat shone on his forehead, his pupils so wide that they almost eclipsed his irises. “But you’re going to need to learn something about patience if you want to wear my collar.”

She made a soft little sound and rocked her hips against him one more time. He pushed forward with a groan, and reached the end of her. She wrapped herself around him, feeling the muscles in his back and legs shaking—but not from strain, she thought, from wanton need and desire. “Amazing,” she murmured. “You feel amazing.”

He grunted as he thrust into her, and she cried out. He found that sweet spot inside of her, the one he’d hit again and again with fingers and tongue, and she found the pleasure starting to spiral out through her already. “Come for me,” he whispered, “If you can. Can you? I want to feel you— Feel you pulse—” Somehow, he shifted so that he was supporting her with one arm, and made enough room between them to find her clit with his thumb. His fast, hard strokes there, in time with his thrusts, made her vision blur. She screamed, her back arching, her nails digging into his shoulders as the orgasm shuddered through her, leaving her clinging to him weakly as her body tried to reorganize itself into some semblance of personage.

He thrust only a few more times before he gave over control to a deeper, more animalistic part of him. His thrusts became rapid, brutally hard, and very, very deep. She endured it only because she’d already orgasmed so hard and was so very open, and because he didn’t last long like that. He came fast, with a sigh of relief, his fingers digging into her ass as he rocked into her just a few times more, then slid down to his knees, carrying her with him. He turned them, so that his back was up against the tree, and settled her in his lap. A slight breeze brushed through the trees, carrying with it the scents of pine resin and loam, and it chilled her sweaty skin. He wrapped his arms around her, snuggling her close, and kissed her hair. It occurred to her how incredibly warm he was. She let her eyes drift closed, although she wasn’t sleepy. She let herself feel safe.

“It’s not easy to explain,” he started. His hand traced over her hair, smoothing it down, gently detangling the knots in her curls. “I was chased here by someone who wants me dead. I don’t know who, but the way that they’re trying to do it— It would wipe out my entire line. My entire family. It would erase us from the world. I can’t let that happen.”

“If you don’t know who it is, what are you going to do?”

He was quiet for a long time. “I’m not sure yet. I wish I knew. I have to find out who it is and what’s happening.”

“And then what?”

He was silent for a long time. She listened to his heart, pounding in his chest, felt his chin cuddling her into him. “This person— They and their family killed everyone I love in the world.”

“So, what? Revenge is the answer?”

“My world isn’t like yours.”

She had to laugh. “I already gathered that. You were in the basement, weren’t you?”

Another long silence from him.

“You were the thing that growled at me in the darkness.”

“Roxie—”

“Why did you leave me alone in bed?”

He sighed. “Truth? No, I had no intentions of forcing you to make love to me, and I didn’t entirely trust that an agreement then would be an agreement when the sun came up. But I was too frustrated to sleep. I took a shower and… You understand, relieved the pressure. But there was still an insistent urge to be close to you, to touch you. I didn’t trust myself to sleep next to you and remain respectful. So rather than go back to sleep, I went down to my basement to work on something.”

“What were you working on?”

“Renovations,” he said. The tone told her that he was telling the truth, but that it was far from the only truth there was.

“What did I see in your house?”

Silence. Years and ages of silence. And then he sighed. “I think you know.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

He chuckled into the darkness. The tension that had been in his voice every time they spoke before had faded away now. Her instincts told her that it wasn’t just the sex; no, there was more to it than that, some other release that he had found.

“There are rules about these things, you know,” he said, his tone gently chiding. “You know too much already.”

“Yes, you said. You’d have to kill me.” She leaned back and looked up at his face. He was looking out at the forest, still on watch, still keeping an eye out for something she wouldn’t have been able to identify. She stroked her finger along his jawline, feeling the rough stubble that had grown there, until he turned his eyes down to hers. “But I don’t think you’re going to kill me.”

The moment stretched out like a summer afternoon. She stared into his eyes and found that patience he’d been talking about earlier. She told herself she could wait forever for an answer. Told herself that she might
have
to wait forever. The green of his eyes flared in the darkness, and she thought she could see herself reflected there for a moment, reflected as she truly was. And then a smile ghosted over his lips, and he nodded. “You’re right. I’m not going to kill you. But that isn’t the same as you being safe.”

“I’m stronger than you think. I could protect myself.”

“Could you have protected yourself against the wolf that came through my back door, the one that doesn’t exist?” She was silent. “What about a pack of them, accustomed to running together, hunting together. I don’t run from much of anything, but I would run from them. What do you think you could do?”

“Fine. I’ll work on my cardio. It’s important, anyway.”

He chuckled again, squeezing her gently. “Beautiful Roxanne, I think you have an answer for anything.”

“It’s my superpower,” she said.

“If the people—the things—that are hunting me discover that there’s someone important to me, that will put that person directly in the line of fire.”

She leaned back again, trying to catch his gaze. This time, he avoided her, perhaps realizing what he’d just said. “Am I important to you?”

He dodged her for a few minutes, and then sighed. “You could be. That would be enough for them to make you a target.”

She nodded, satisfied, and put her head down again. The beat of his heart had slowed somewhat now, and it tapped a soothing rhythm against her ear. Her eyes drifted closed, and she thought she might be able to go to sleep, if one thing came to another. And that wouldn’t be so very bad.

She didn’t know how long her eyes had been closed before he gently shifted her on his lap, easing her into waking. “It’s time,” he said. “I need to get you home, or you’ll be late for work.”

“Screw work,” she said, burrowing deeper into his neck. “We should go back to your place and do all of that again.” And then she remembered why they were out in the woods, and what was back at his house. What was waiting for him. What he would have to do. Would he dismember the body, or burn it, or— God, he wouldn’t eat it, would he?

“We both have a long day ahead of us,” he said, stroking his fingers down her spine. That did nothing to make her want to get off his lap, though it did make her want to turn to face him, and forget that she’d only put one condom into that little case. “I need to take care of my home, and I need to find out who that woman was, and if there are others here. I need to keep myself safe, which will mean keeping you safe. And I need you at the hospital, so you can tell me if anything strange is happening anywhere. Supplies going missing, or strange wounds healing too fast.” He grinned at her, and she noticed that the utter darkness of night was starting to fade into the beginnings of pre-dawn. “You know the sort of things I mean?”

“Yes,” she said. She drew back, and looked to clean herself off as best as she could. She’d have to shower when she got home; her back was sticky with pine pitch, and her hair was in tangles. She pulled on her jeans, her bra, her shirt. The shirt was ruined, but she found she didn’t much mind.

When she turned back to Julian, he was dressed as well. He took her hand again and led her out of the clearing, back towards the road.

* * *

Izzy’s eyes opened. They burned. Her eyelids opening felt like they were scraping over sand. Her skin felt too tight, too raw, and her joints throbbed. Once, she’d had influenza. She’d prayed she would die. This felt worse.