Desire Unchained (16 page)

him? She sat up, only to feel the heavy tug of the chain attached to her ankle.

She was tired of being chained. From one dungeon into another in a matter of hours. In

her heightened sexual state, she studied the whips, canes, and flogs that decorated the walls of

Shade’s bedroom. The masks and gags and cuffs. Disgusting. Disturbing. And yet … what would

it be like to be at Shade’s mercy, to have his strong, talented hands wielding the tools he could

use for pleasure … or pain.

He’d always been relatively gentle with her … relative to all of this, anyway.

I wasn’t the gentlest lover, was I?

No, she supposed he hadn’t been. He hadn’t allowed her to touch him except during sex.

He’d commanded her actions in bed, and some part of her had liked the way he handled

everything. When he was in charge, she could relax. Between her brother’s illness and her coffee

shop’s imminent closing, her plate had been full, her spirit all but broken.

So when Shade took her to his place for dinner and a few hours of sex, and then promptly

brought her home, or when he’d meet her at a hotel, screw her hard and fast, and take off

afterward, she’d been okay with it, for the most part.

And actually, hard and fast sounded really good right now. Just thinking about it brought

a low growl into her chest and wetness between her legs. The wolf-beast in her wanted to get

down and dirty. Wanted to submit to a powerful male, but only after a stimulating, hardcore

battle.

She had never believed she would want to have sex with someone she hated, but maybe

hating him would make it easier. It was just sex, right? No emotional attachments, no falling for

him again. Just. Sex.

Except, could their relationship remain that way, now that they were bonded? He’d made

it sound so … permanent. But maybe the R-XR could find a way to get her out of it. And if not,

well, they had a few things to work out, because they couldn’t spend decades—or even

centuries—hating each other.

She shook her head, because she refused to believe this was permanent. There had to be a

way out, and she’d do whatever she had to in order to find it.

Where was he?

The sound of footsteps vibrated in her ears, still sensitive from her shift.
Yes.
Heart

pounding, she stood and swept up the blanket to cover herself. She’d stripped last night before

she’d morphed into beast form, and now she wished she’d dressed this morning.

When Shade rounded the corner, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved to see him or not. He

filled the doorway, both massive shoulders brushing the sides of the stone frame, his broad chest

expanding with each forceful breath. The scent of his arousal and anger came to her on a hot

draft of air.

Excitement shot through her. Uncontrollable, shivery excitement.

“
Damn you,
” he said, in a voice that had been scraped over sandpaper. “Damn you for

making me burn like this. For you.”

Even dressed in scrubs, he stole her breath. He was carrying a bag of fast food, and his

eyes were gold lasers that burned everywhere his gaze lit on her skin. He said nothing as he

tossed the food to the floor and closed the distance between them.

She sighed his name, hating that she’d done it but unable to take it back. Not when she

was already on fire for him. She closed her eyes, waited for him to kiss her, but he spun her,

pushed her against the wall so his chest pressed against her back. His erection prodded her

backside through the fabric of his scrub bottoms, and she couldn’t help but rub herself against

him like some sort of feline in heat.

“I hate how you do that to me,” she whispered.

He popped her hips back with one hand splayed on her belly. “Do what?” He roughly

kicked her feet apart.

“Make me forget how much I dislike you.”

“Welcome to my world.” He slapped his palms on the stone on either side of her head

and covered her body with his. “I don’t want this, but here I am.”

For a moment she thought he’d take her like that, against the wall. But he remained

motionless, dominating her in a primitive, animal message. The male animal was larger,

stronger, and he would have his way with his female.

She began to tremble with forbidden, naughty anticipation. One of his hands tore away

the blanket she still held uselessly to her breasts as the other clamped down on her hipbone and

turned her to bring her hard against him. His erection ground into her belly, an immense,

unyielding presence.

“Touch me.” His fingers dug into her hip while the other hand came up to tangle in her

hair. “Do it now.” His pelvis arched into her, a not-so-subtle command.

Oh, yes. She wanted—needed—to touch him. But the beast still raged inside, desperate

for more than a merely pleasant release. It wanted wild and erotic, with an edge of danger.

Her core went molten at that thought.

Feeling frisky and aggressive and more than a little stubborn, she nipped his collarbone

hard enough to make him suck air. “Make me.”

His body went steel-rod stiff. “What did you just say?”

She boldly met his gaze. “I said, make me.”

He looked so floored, so utterly shocked that she almost laughed. Almost, because

instantly, his shock veered sharply to anger. The hand that had been in her hair grabbed her wrist.

She snarled, struggled against him, but he didn’t give an inch. He brought her hand inside his

pants and forced her to palm his cock.

“Now,” he said, in a deep, guttural rasp, “stroke me.”

Their gazes were still locked. The predator in her got all hackles-raised at the challenge in

his eyes. The female in her got all shivery. The woman who had done a lot of growing up in the

last eleven months decided that it didn’t like being ordered around. It was time to show this male

that she wasn’t going to roll over and play the submissive.

Smiling, she closed her fingers around his thick length. It pulsed in her grip, the hot blood

pounding in a raging tide against her palm. The head pushed up through the ring of her fist,

which she couldn’t close fully. He felt good, so good … she waited until the glint of triumph

sparked in his eyes—and then she shoved him as hard as she could. He stumbled back. She sank

into a crouch, ready to spring.

“You—”

She struck him in the gut with her shoulder, putting her entire body into the hit. He

grunted and fell backward, coming down on the bed more gracefully than she’d have liked.

Her victory was short-lived. He came at her like a tank, spun her and slammed her

face-first to the floor hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs. He pinned her with his

weight, his long body stretched out on top of hers.

Hot breath fanned across her cheek as he growled into her ear, “What happened to my

timid little Runa?”

Timid. The reminder of the power he’d had over her, the power to break her heart, really

ticked her off.

“She died in the jaws of a werewolf, you son of a bitch.”

Beneath him, she writhed, trying to break free of his grip but feeling her arousal grow

with every motion. His cock ground against her ass, a hot brand between her cheeks. She could

feel every ridge, every bump through the thin cotton of his pants, and now as she struggled, it

was to push her hips up. To get him where she needed him to be.

“Would a son of a bitch make you moan?” His tongue swept along her jaw, a warm, wet

stroke that forced a moan from her throat, just as he’d said.

“Yes,” she panted. God, she was going to come like this.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

In an instant, his weight was gone, but his palm came down on the back of her neck to

hold her cheek to the floor. His other hand slid beneath her hips to lift her so she was on her

knees. She heard the rustle of fabric as he pushed down his scrub bottoms.

“I’ve wanted to do this to you since yesterday, when I dragged you down to chain you

here.” He inhaled a great breath and let out an appreciative purr, and she knew he’d scented her

desire. “I had you positioned like this, open to me. Vulnerable.”

Vulnerable.
In this position, she couldn’t move, was completely dominated. It chafed,

made her want to strike back, and yet, she quivered with excitement and her arousal ran down

the inside of her thigh. She knew Shade saw, because he groaned.

“I want to lick you,” he said roughly. “I want to start low on your thigh and drag my

tongue up through that sweet juice until I hit the spot that makes you scream.”

Oh, God. She whimpered, pumped her hips as his words triggered the beginnings of an

orgasm.

“But I can’t trust you not to fight me, can I?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Trust me.” She wanted his tongue buried between her legs, wanted

him to lap at her, to take her with his mouth until she collapsed.

His finger slid up the inside of her thigh instead, catching her slick juice. “Too bad I’m

such a son of a bitch.”

Straining, she jerked her head around enough to watch him suck his finger as he locked

his gaze with hers.

The erotic sight tackled her, and she detonated.

“Oh, yeah.” Shade released his grip on her neck and entered her with a swift thrust of his

hips. Her core grabbed him, the spasms that rocked her body clenching and milking with such

strength that he hissed, pushed deep, and just held on. “Fuck,” he groaned. “Oh …
fuck.
”

She felt him swell inside her, and then he was pumping so hard she was scooting forward

on the floor. The front of his thighs slapped the backs of hers and his fingers gripped her hips

with bruising force.

This was what she’d wanted since she woke up. She rejoiced in the furious pace, the

brutal pounding, the wet sounds of erotic play … his shout as he released inside her.

Another climax took her by surprise, ripped through her body like a strike of lightning.

Shade kept pounding into her, his hips jerking as his second release wracked his body. Another

came for her, and another, until she was sobbing with pleasure and exhaustion.

She welcomed both, because all too soon, she’d be wide awake in a strange world with a

demon who didn’t want her, and another demon who wanted her … but wanted her dead.

Shade collapsed, slid bonelessly to the floor, taking Runa with him so they were on their

sides, spooning.

Hell’s freakin’ rings. Was that the kind of mind-blowing sex that happened between

mates? If so, he now understood why E got that stars-in-his-eyes look whenever he talked about

Tayla.

The conversation with his brothers regarding Runa’s fate came roaring back, along with

scenarios that put a damper on the postorgasmic bliss. He could picture Tayla attacking Runa

with silver-tipped weapons, beating her into a pulp before delivering the death blow.

Then there was Wraith, who could be brutally efficient or play with his prey like a cat

with a mouse. He might take Runa down quickly, but would he feed on her? The image of his

brother at Runa’s throat, getting turned on and draining her of the last of her life as she lay limp

in his arms, made Shade tense up and pull Runa closer. No fucking way was Wraith going to

touch her.

Eidolon could do it with compassion, could inject a killing sedative while pretending to

be taking blood or something … but no, if Runa had to die, Shade would drum up the courage to

do it himself. She deserved that, at least.

She stirred, and he ran his hand up and down her arm. Her smooth skin, still curiously

devoid of his
dermoire
, prickled with gooseflesh beneath his palm. Why hadn’t the

mate-markings appeared? Was it possible that he was bonded to her … but that she wasn’t

bonded to him? If so, he was looking at an eyeful of disaster. He required sex like humans

required water. To live. Sex for a bonded male could come only from his mate. If the bond

wasn’t reciprocated, she could take off, have sex with whomever she wanted. If he couldn’t get

to her, he’d die.

He’d have to attempt her part of the bonding ritual again. He couldn’t afford for her to be

a free agent while he was tied to her.

“Runa?”

“Mmm.”

He nuzzled her hair, inhaled her natural, earthy fragrance. “Come on. Let’s clean up.”

She didn’t answer or move, so he unlocked the
morphestus
manacles with a command

and carried her into the shower. Gently, he set her down. She smiled at him in a slightly dazed

way, swaying on legs so shaky he worried she’d drop. Without thinking, he folded her into his

arms and held her upright. When the spray from the double heads jutting from opposite rock

walls hit her, she moaned, threw back her head, and damn she was beautiful.

Keeping one arm around her, he poured a stream of liquid soap over her shoulders,

covered her in the pearly syrup until it dripped down her arched back and between her breasts.

Carefully, tenderly, he washed her, all the while thinking what a moron he was for letting

himself enjoy this.

She made an erotic sound, something between a gasp and a moan, and he pulled her

closer, used his body as a buffer against her orgasmic spasms. Her noises, the feel of her slick,

wet skin against his … it was enough to get him hard again. Not that it ever took much, but after

the sex they’d just had, he should be sated for hours.

Hell’s gates, he was in trouble.