Sam’s Creed (14 page)

His eyes glittered down at her. “You’re the one who’s going to be happy.”

She grinned at him, letting him take them back to comfortable ground. “Then you must make me pant.”

“Oh, you’ll definitely pant, but…” The kiss he pressed on her lips was hard, more of a statement than a caress. “Not until I tell you to.”

Her soul picked up the shiver that had started in her body and ran with it. As much as she tried to suppress her nature, she couldn’t change it, and when Sam took charge, there was only joy inside.

His cock nudged her pussy, nestling into the well created for him. “That little shiver mean you approve?”

She gasped as he pressed in, bold and intimidating. She braced her other palm on his chest. “Yes.”

“I’ll do my best not to hurt you, Bella.” His palm turned her face to his. “You know that.”

She blinked, then realized even as her sex flowered to his thrust, that she was pushing him away. Hard. She took a breath. The cool silk of his hair brushed her cheek. His lips followed quickly. “Do you want to stop?”

She heard in his voice how much it cost him to offer that. She also knew why he did. Sam was not a man who easily hurt those he cared about. And he cared about her, even though he fought her. She shook her head. “No. I want to know what it is like to hold your body within mine. Very much.”

His hips flexed spasmodically, and his breath raced over her skin. “Damn, Bella, you can’t say things like that when I’m trying to be easy.”

She arched a little, taking a little more, feeling the wonder as her body strained to accept his possession.

“Maybe easy is not right between us.”

The muscles in his throat worked as he swallowed against the need she could feel pulsing within him. He was such a good man who saw himself very wrong. So much so he could not see the truth.

She opened her mouth to argue more, but his covered it, cutting off what she wanted to say with a stroke of his tongue and an invite to kiss him back—which she did until she was clinging to him and he was supporting her, with his hands, his body, the softness of his words.

“I know you have worries. Big worries in your mind that hold you back, so why don’t you give them to me and let me take care of them tonight?”

“What worries?” she asked suspiciously.

He smiled the softest smile she’d ever seen on his face and traced her mouth with his thumb. “Your breasts aren’t too big, your spirit isn’t too wild, your sense of humor isn’t inappropriate.” The way he cradled her cheek was at once protective and possessive, the light in his eyes so much more. “You’re perfect, Bella. You’re sweet, giving and courageous, and any man lucky enough to be the center of your attention should drop to his knees and thank his lucky stars.”

She sighed and snuggled into his strength, bringing her legs up around his hips, a little of her nervousness slipping away. He did sweet very well.

He kissed her again, softly, coaxingly. Ah, she loved his kisses. The downward press of his hips stole some of her bliss. He was very wide, the moment very intimate, made more so by the intimacy of having him see her take him this time, this way. As her muscles parted for the intimate burn of acceptance, she gasped.

He stopped, not in her but not totally apart. His fingers threaded through hers, pinning them back down beside her head.

“Just a little trust, Bella. That’s all you need.”

The fact that she had a death grip on his hands did not keep him from working his palms under her head. He just took her hands with him. The brush of his lips across her eyelashes tickled. One of his hands freed itself from hers. It skimmed her cheek, her breast, her side before settling on her hip. His thumb eased between her curls, finding the nub of her clitoris as his lips settled over hers. The pressure of his cock increased. So did the burn. “So sweet, I need more.”

“I think I have changed my mind.”

Tucking his cock tighter against her, he stroked his tongue over her lips, tickling the corners so she gasped, spiking her passion with slow circles of his thumb, then sliding past the barrier, filling her mouth with his heat. His taste. Not demanding as she’d expected, but more coaxing. His tongue leisurely tangled with hers, again as if there was nothing more urgent going on than a kiss. But there was and the proof of it prodded her in time with his pulse.

She pulled her mouth free. “Sam…”

His “Shh” faded to the quiet of breath against her cheek. Sensation between pleasure and pain had her scrunch up her neck. His laugh chased the shiver down her spine. The touch of his tongue inspired another shiver that ended in a clench of her pussy against his cock.

“Sweet.” A pause for another kiss and then, “Just relax and let me in, duchess.”

The familiar endearment buffeted her fears, shaking a few clear of their moorings. His mouth worked over her neck, nibbling, kissing, lapping, finding the most sensitive spot at the curve of her shoulder and neck and then lingering. His cock worked deeper. Pleasure rose on a wave of rapture, overriding the pain, lifting her hips into his thrust.

“No. Stay still. Just let me do this, nice and easy.”

Another thrust. Inside, something gave with a breath-stealing flare of agony. She cried out and shoved at his shoulders. He didn’t back off, just held her through the erotic first, holding her while she struggled with the reality of penetration. She had taken Sam into her body. She was no longer a virgin. There was no going back. Digging her nails into his shoulders, she arched her hips up, taking more, needing the reaffirmation that it was really happening.

“Thank you.”

The softest of kisses touched her mouth. “I believe that’s my line, and you’re about ten minutes early with the delivery.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.”

Within her his cock flexed. She braced herself for the pain. “No, don’t tense up.”

His drawl was deep and slow, adding another layer to the seductive spell he wove so effortlessly.

“You are part of me.”

“Hell, yes.”

His hips pulsed. His cock pressed impossibly deeper, felt impossibly bigger. “Relax. You can take all of me.”

There was no way she could take more. He was too big. She was built too small, but still she could not deny him. Not with her body, her heart, her soul, which hungered to be everything he needed.

The slow pass of his fingers over her clit sent a shiver down her spine. The next pass reflected it back, and the third amplified it until the burn of desire flared higher than the burn of possession.

“That’s it.” His thighs spread hers wider, his cock nudged deeper. “Feel how good it’s going to be.”

Desire returned, softly at first, riding her wonder, her need to please, skating the edges of his touch until it found a foothold in the wonder. Returning with a vengeance as his cock rubbed against a certain spot inside. Stronger than before, as if it really had not gone away, but rather just lain in wait for the pain to fade.

As if he knew what was happening inside her, Sam growled, “Put your hands behind your head.”

She did.

“Lace your fingers together.”

She had to untangle them from her hair to do that.

A hard kiss on her mouth indicated the approval she could see in his expression.

“Present your breasts.”

The order fell into the accelerated cadence of her breathing, driving it higher. She followed his command, inching her shoulders back as she arched her spine, presenting her breasts for his pleasure.

“Hold it right there.”

There
was an almost painful arch that shifted her hips down onto his cock the slightest bit. As he slid forward, along with the burn came an incredible bolt of sensation she wasn’t braced for. It shot up into her center, twisted as he worked his cock back, straightening out as he worked his big cock back in, splitting her desire into separate camps, one begging for slow, the other cheering for hard.

“Stay arched.”

This time his voice was deeper, hoarser. A quick glance at his face revealed why. His gaze was focused on her breasts. She stiffened her spine, the move bringing her clit in contact with the short strokes of his cock, her breasts closer to his mouth.

“Oh!”

She didn’t know what was hotter, the exquisite sensation of his cock, slick with her juices, sliding along her sensitive flesh as he filled her hungry sheath, or the passion-tight expression on his face as he watched her breasts shimmy while he worked deeper and deeper within her. Her moan was involuntary. Her lips parted for his kiss, her vagina for his possession.

“Yes.”

Hoarse and dark, his approval fanned the flames of her surrender. The impulse to squirm was almost as irresistible as the one to bear down. The first she resisted, but the second she indulged. Squeezing with her inner muscles, holding Sam to her with everything she had. His cock jumped in her tight grip. “Do that again and this won’t last as long as I’d planned.”

Oh, she liked the sound of that, liked knowing she could do this for him. For herself.

Those sharp eyes raked her face as she smiled, then they narrowed and he swore before closing them completely and arching his back, spearing his cock deep to her center. “Fuck.”

It was too much. He was too much. She shuddered as he pressed against her, the wiry hair on his groin rasping over her already sensitized clit, adding fire to the burn before pulling out and working back in, every wiggle, every inch a hard-won victory of persistence over resistance. Friction over glide. The tension built. Her world dissolved to the focal point of his cock in her pussy and the burning pleasure of his possession. This was good. So good.

Her breath broke on sobs she couldn’t control. Her reserve broke on control she couldn’t maintain. She was so close. So close. As if sensing her need, Sam palmed her hips in his big hands, the bite of his fingers in her buttocks just one more sensual assault on her fragmented nerves.

“Let it happen, duchess. Let yourself come for me.”

For me.
Over and over the words played in her brain, mutating out of perspective, taking on a higher note. Yes, she wanted to come. For her. For him. Especially for him. Fixing her gaze on Sam’s face, she let herself see only him, feel only the way he made her feel. No fear. No worries. She arched her back farther, defiantly, challenging him to take her higher, silently encouraging Sam to hurry. Adding a verbal plea to the one howling inside when he slowed his pace to a tease. “Hurry.”

“We’ve got plenty of time.”

She shook her head so hard, his face blurred to a streak of colors. “I need you to come now.” Before she could think of all the ways this could end, all the ways it could go wrong.

She squeezed hard with her inner muscles as he pulled out, gasped with relief when he swore and jack-hammered back in. He was losing control. That was good. She wanted him as wild as she was.

“Bella…”

Ignoring the growl of warning, she did it again and again until the sheen of sweat glistened on Sam’s skin and his lips pulled back from his teeth in a feral growl. With a growl of her own, she dragged herself up and bit him—hard—on his left pectoral, the salty tang of his skin spreading over her tongue in an exhilarating spice as he surged against her.

“Damn you!” His grip was as furious as his expression as he rode her hard, as if he wanted to leave a mark, prove his ownership.
O Dios,
she wanted him to mark her. Isabella clung to that fantasy, imagining the possibilities as she drove her hips up into his, chasing completion. With a thrust that had her breasts bouncing, he ground against her. “Come for me.”

She wanted to. She strained to. His hand came between them. His thumb covered her clit, centered her with an easy rub, commanded her with a firm pinch, and then there was no holding back. There was just a terrifying feeling of shattering as the violent pleasure sent her hurtling over an unseen edge. She screamed for Sam, heard his echoing shout and then his arms were tight around her, anchoring her as the pleasure continued as he thrust once, twice and then with a hoarse shout of her name, he shuddered, his cock jerking within her, finding the twinges of her climax and bringing them back to life.

And then just as suddenly he jerked out, leaving her bereft, as the heavy weight of his cock landed on her stomach and warm liquid bathed her skin. His seed. She arched into the next splash, gasping at the third as he nipped at her neck, husked his pleasure in her ear.

She held him, stretching out the pleasure, her pussy clenching in sympathetic ecstasy with each jerk of his cock until the spasms lessened, until his chest relaxed against hers, unable to let go, unable to let it end.

Sam rained butterfly kisses over her face. The heat of his hand enfolded her breast, soothing the remnants of hunger rippling through her.

“Sweet…You are so sweet.”

Another shudder of his big body drew her hands to the sculpted perfection of his back. She traced the rise and hollow of his muscles as he took his ease with her body, sweat making his flesh glisten. Her forearms appeared very white against the dark of his tanned skin, highlighting more than ever the differences between them. Differences she loved.

His hand dropped to her stomach, covering the warm weight of his seed. He shifted to his side, watching as he massaged it into her skin, smoothing his hand up to her breast, scooping a bit more to coat her nipples. Marking her. She turned so his palm covered her nipple, his seed and their sweat sealing them together, flesh to flesh.

He glanced up, that strange intensity still in his eyes. “Are you all right?”

“I am very fine.”

“Good.” The brush of his thumb over her nipple jerked her high against him, her breath stealing from her in quick bursts as he did it again. There was no mistaking the mischief in his eyes as he murmured her name.

“What?”

“You’re panting.”

So she was. And he was gloating. She hummed, kissed his chest and smiled.

“I bet you cannot make me do it again.”

T
he attack came before dawn. Kell’s warning growl jerked Sam from a sound sleep. He shoved Isabella out of his arms and off the bedroll, taking the knife thrust to his shoulder instead of his chest. Agony screamed through his arm. He clamped it off with a ruthless surge of cold anger.

Whipping around, Sam blocked the next blow, grasping his assailant’s arm and jerking down, using the man’s momentum to knock him off his feet. Kell came flying in, teeth gnashing, instinctively going for the man’s throat. While he was finishing the job, Sam leapt to a crouch, scooping up his gun belt and slinging it over his good shoulder. His revolver slid easily from the holster and into his hand.

“Playtime.”

He cocked the hammer and took a shot at movement in the shadows ten feet away. There was the sound of a bullet hitting flesh and the shadow dropped. Sam sprang to his feet, casting a glance to the side. Isabella lay where he’d shoved her, eyes big, clutching the blanket to her breasts. She was still in shock. “Kell, guard.”

The big dog took a position just to the right of Bella. Sam nodded. Across the fire, another shadow flitted from right to left.
Shit.

Grabbing Bella by the arm, he drew her up and shoved her over the fallen tree that had served as his seat last night. “Lie flat and don’t move.”

He needed to know where she was. In the predawn, everything was a shadow. Shooting at the wrong one could cost them all. Twigs snapped and boots scraped across rock as their attackers found new positions. Dropping into the shadow of the rock wall he circled ’round, drawing the gunfire away from Bella’s hiding place.

Kell whined. Sam motioned him back with a sharp gesture. As best he could tell, there were still three men out there. They had the trees for cover, but they’d have to stay at the edge to get in a shot. One of the reasons he’d selected this site was the rock wall behind and the drop in front. It gave him the advantage. Something he always appreciated.

A bullet winged over his head, pinging off the rock. Sharp splinters stung his cheek just below his eye. He fired back in the direction of the flash, knowing he wouldn’t hit. Running along the wall, he tracked the positions of the men by the noise they made. The fact that only an occasional bullet came his way was telling. They were after Bella. He smiled, grim confidence blending in with his rage. He could work with that.

The end of the rock wall was a little more than a slit between the gray of the rock and darkness of the forest. He eased in cautiously, the hairs on the back of his neck standing in warning. Someone was close. Pressing his shoulders to the rough bark of a tree, he wrapped his gun belt around his waist. Leather glided through the buckle with only the slightest of sounds. He popped the bullets out of their pockets and, making no noise, reloaded the well-oiled gun. The same couldn’t be said about the man who stalked him.

A twig snapped a couple feet away. Sam eased the chamber closed. Brush rustled in a hushed betrayal. Whoever it was was just on the other side of the tree. Sam reached for his knife. It wasn’t in the sheath. Shit. Only one person could have taken it. Bella.

I won’t live with his touch on my skin.

Fuck!

The rank stench of stale sweat reached him first followed quickly by the unmistakable sound of a shoulder brushing bark. Sam smiled. Nice of the outlaw to make it easy for him. In a near silent move, he stepped around the tree trunk.

A man dressed in black jumped back.
“Hijo de la—!”

He never got to finish the curse. Yanking him forward into the force of his blow, Sam hit him in the windpipe before shoving him back. The man stumbled, arms flailing. The hilt of a knife protruded from the waistband of his pants. Perfect. Diving in, Sam landed on the man’s torso, pinning his arms with his knees. The outlaw’s gun discharged harmlessly to the right. The man was strong and resourceful. Sam only had a few seconds. Covering his mouth with his hand, he reached back and grabbed the knife.

“Did you get him, Ricco?” The call came from the other side of the clearing.

Sam met the other man’s gaze squarely, rage burning hot inside, and placed the blade across his throat. “Tell your companions ‘Yes.’ Nothing more.”

The man swallowed. Sam pressed the blade in. A line of red immediately spread along the sharp edge. With a glare, the outlaw shouted,
“Sí!”

“Good. Then you can come help us with this one.”

“She’s naked and ready,” another called.

Sam slapped his hand over the son of a bitch’s mouth, grinding the heel into the man’s chin as he informed him, “Bella is Hell’s Eight.”

Understanding widened the man’s eyes in fear and understanding that came too late.

“More than that,” Sam snarled, letting the rage loose, “she’s mine.”

Blood sprayed in a hot red splash against his cheek as he drew the knife across the man’s throat, ending his life in one quick slash. Too quick. This man had come for Bella. Not to kill her, but the life he’d planned on delivering her to? That would have murdered the joy that shone so brightly within her. For that he deserved a long torturous death. Sam wiped the blade clean on the man’s shirt. It galled him to no end he hadn’t given it.

Pushing to his feet, Sam put the knife in the sheath on his belt before blending back into the shadows. Moving quickly and carefully through the woods, he circled around to Bella’s position, determination rising with every step. None of them would touch her. Ever. When he got done cleaning this mess up, he was going to get her settled back in her home, and then he was going after Tejala and when he was done with him, there wouldn’t be enough left of the son of a bitch to even be a shadow on her memory.

Kell’s low snarl pulled him to the edge of the tiny clearing. Dawn shed its weak light over everything, lending substance to what had been shaded. The two other men had Bella’s position flanked. She stood naked behind the felled tree, her hair hanging in an obscuring shield about her torso, back braced against the wall, head up, the knife in her hand. Kell was in front of her, head down, lips pulled back in a menacing growl. The only thing keeping the men from shooting the dog was the fact that any bullet aimed at him might hit Bella. Which meant Sam had about two seconds before they changed positions and that obstacle was removed. No time for finesse.

He cleared the trees with a roar, filling the morning calm with the Hell’s Eight battle cry, running across the clearing with guns drawn. The men whirled. His first shot hit square. The man on the left spun around on impact and went down. The man on the right brought his gun up. Not at Sam but at Bella.

Son of a bitch. “Take ’im, Kell!”

The wolf sprang into action, all flashing teeth and raking claws. His jaws clamped down on the bandit’s arm. The man screamed again and fired. Isabella screamed and dropped.

“Bella!”

No answer. Kell yelped and held on. The outlaw whirled, struggling to get the gun to his good hand. Kell spun with him. Sam jerked the barrel up in the nick of time to avoid shooting Kell. The outlaw put the gun against Kell’s side.

The dog was a sitting duck. Knowing it was too late even as he gave the order, Sam hollered, “Down, Kell.”

The dog didn’t listen. He snarled and leapt in again, biting and slashing, going for the arm that stuck out in a deliberate lure, not understanding the trick.

Shit.

Sam worked to the side. He couldn’t get a clear shot at the outlaw and he couldn’t bring himself to risk shooting the damn dog. He’d be lucky at this rate if he didn’t get them all killed.

For one instant, Sam had a clear shot. He squeezed the trigger. There was a wild scream from Isabella and she threw herself onto the outlaw and directly in the path of his shot.

Sam yanked his arm up, and the bullet went high. The cold wave of nausea at almost shooting her didn’t pass as easily.

He ran in. “Damn it, Bella! Get out of there.”

She didn’t answer. The outlaw stumbled backward under the force of her weight and Kell’s attack. Further away from him.

Isabella’s hand came up. Steel flashed in the dim light. The outlaw’s gun went off. Kell crumpled to the ground, his snarls abruptly silenced. The outlaw fell too, taking Isabella with him, trapping her beneath him. Blood spread outward from where they landed.

“Bella!”

Goddamn, if she’d gotten herself shot he was going to kill her. Sam didn’t breathe, wasn’t even sure his heart beat for the five seconds it took to get to her. He dragged the bandit off, heaving him to the side. When he looked back, Isabella was staring at him, eyes big in her blood-smeared face. She was alive. He released the breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding.

“Son of a bitch! I told you to stay put.”

She didn’t even blink. Her mouth worked. Her eyes grew moist.

“Don’t you dare cry, woman, I’m mad as hell at you.”

And he wanted to stay that way.

Anger replaced shock. “Do not tell me what to do!”

“Then don’t damn well cry.”

She glared back at him, tears hovering but not falling, her beautiful skin covered obscenely in blood. First chance he got he was giving her a bath. He held out his hand. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” She rolled over, flinching away from the man’s corpse, arching to see Kell. Sam followed her gaze. The dog was lying where he’d fallen, not moving.

“Kell.
Dios mio!
Kell!”

Sam reached for her shoulder. “Let me go first.”

He didn’t know what he could do, the aggravating mutt was probably dying if not already dead, but if there was a way to protect Bella from it, any of it, he wanted to. She shrugged out from under his arm. There was no stopping her. She scrambled over to the dog, sinking her hands into his bloody fur, murmuring to him soft words in Spanish as she searched and found the first wound, crying out as if she’d taken the bullet herself, searching some more until she found the next, crying out again…

Sam came up beside the dog. He was still alive. In his eyes, Sam could see his pain and his devotion. His plea for help. It was a punch in the gut. He didn’t have what it took to save the dog. He wasn’t a doctor, wasn’t much of anything. Grief washed over him. He pushed it back as he did with all emotion, focusing on what the dog needed to hear rather than on what he wanted. “You did good, Kell.”

Kell wagged his tail, the thumps slow and uneven. In the dog’s eyes, Sam saw the understanding. He was reading the goodbye in his voice. So was Isabella.

Her gaze narrowed. “You will not talk in goodbyes.”

“He’s hurt too badly, Bella.”

“You will help him.”

He’d give anything right then to have the power to grant life and death. To give Bella what she wanted. To reward the dog that was his friend with a merciful death, but he couldn’t. It always came down to that with the ones he loved. Choices he couldn’t live with but he had to make anyway. “I’m not a doctor, Bella. Killing’s what I’m good at.”

Turning on his heel he went back to his bedroll and picked up his rifle. He could feel Bella’s stare like an ever growing weight. When he turned around, she was still kneeling beside the dog, glaring at him. She was so young. He picked up the blanket and brought it to her. She didn’t say a word, just stared at him, her expression a mix of disbelief and anger. He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

“Where do you go?”

“I need to go make sure this was all of them.”

She nodded. “Go. We will be fine without you.”

His temper caught up with his emotions. Did she think this was easy for him?

“One of these days, little girl, I’m going to stop humoring you and you’re going to find out who wears the pants in this relationship.”

Maybe she did have a sense of caution after all, or maybe he just looked in that moment like the mean son of a bitch he was, because instead of arguing, Isabella merely lifted her chin and glared. He turned and left. Before he did something they’d both eventually regret. Like pull her into his arms and show her what it really meant to be his woman.

Isabella hugged the blanket to her and watched him go, confident always, the broad set of his shoulders projecting his strength, hiding his pain.

Little girl.

He had been right to call her
la niña.
She had behaved like a child, focusing on her emotions, her wants, ignoring his. Sam loved Kell as much as she did. Probably more. Because he didn’t show it didn’t mean he didn’t feel it.

She needed to remember that in times when she was emotional as well as times when she was happy. Sam had too many scars when it came to where he loved to be obvious about how he felt, covering with laughter or silence, but he felt. Deeply. The image of him coming out of the woods on a run, deadly powerful, wild, his muscles glistening with sweat as he attacked the men who threatened her. She stroked her hands over Kell’s head. Sam was a very brave man when it came to sacrificing his life for others. Very brave.

Killing’s what I’m good at.

She glanced around at the corpses and agreed. He was very good at killing. What he didn’t seem so sure about was his skill at loving. Kell whined and licked her hand. “Do not worry,
mi amigo.
We will fix you, and then maybe—” She shrugged and smiled. “Maybe you and I will teach Sam how to live.”

Kell whined again. “
Sí,
it will not be easy, but he is very worth it.”

From the lick he gave her hand, she assumed he agreed. She patted his head again. “To fix you we need to leave here, which means I must prepare. I cannot sit here like a bulge on a log and leave all the work and worry to Sam. This would not make me much of a partner.”

Kell wagged his tail. She smiled at him, suppressing the tears that burned her eyes as she saw once again all the blood. “Do not worry. I will not let you die. It is not how one thanks another for saving their life.”

She would not let Kell die for that reason…and for one other. She’d seen the way Sam looked at Kell in that split second before she’d demanded he fix things. Like his heart was being ripped away from his soul. Like he couldn’t take another loss. She’d also seen the guilt that came after. He blamed himself. She shook her head and walked over to the man she’d killed. Sometimes Sam was not sensible.