Bite Deep (31 page)

Peter Randall's lips curled in the shape of a smile, revealing long eyetooth fangs. Lydia couldn't catch her breath, felt it being squeezed out of her chest. She'd been seduced by his quick wit and fast hands and had missed the truth before her. She knew because of his attack, she couldn't trust anyone again. Not after what he'd done. Not after she'd missed the monster hidden before her.

Randall's form loomed impossibly large, becoming a vortex of darkness that threatened to swallow her whole. ‘There is no escaping the truth, Lydia,' his voice echoed through her, rumbling her bones. ‘And you need to choose which monster to follow.'

* * *

Jericho knew Lydia was dreaming. He'd opened the door a crack, intent on checking her temperature, but paused when he'd heard whimpering. Peering in, he could see her legs thrashing, as if she were trying to run away. He was debating what to do when she cried out, voice harsh with fear. He hesitated only a second, then walked to the bedside, sitting down and putting his hands gently on her shoulder. It had started raining a short time ago, and rain pattered steadily against the bedroom window.

‘Lydia?' he whispered. ‘Wake up.'

She sucked in a deep breath and rolled her head, crying out again. Jericho grabbed her shoulders and shook her, pushed a thread of alpha into his voice. ‘Wake up, baby.'

With a hiccup of breath, her eyes flew open and she jolted upright in the bed. Jericho's arms dropped and he shifted back a little, not wanting to panic her any further.

‘Jericho?' Her voice was small and bewildered as she blinked at him. Then realisation dawned in her eyes and she withdrew further. Jericho's hands ached, wanting to reach for her, wanting to hold her.

‘You were having a nightmare,' he said.

‘Okay.' Lydia's face went blank. Something deep in Jericho broke, bleeding out a little, and disappointment surged through him. She still didn't trust him. He got up and walked for the door, trying to keep his emotions in check. She had seen a portion of his beast, knew he was a monster. Of course she didn't trust him. Of course she'd never want him. He cursed silently. He was an idiot and no doubt his crew had seen it all along. That she would never want him, would always see him as a freak.

‘Don't close the door.'

Her voice was so quiet, he almost thought he misheard. His hand hesitated on the edge of the door and he pushed it back open again.

‘I'm just outside the room if you need me,' he said.

‘I know.' She settled back down in the bed, the flickering fire casting a glow over her form.

He gave her one last lingering look and then walked to the lounge. Kicking off his socks and boots, he stretched out on the couch, his eyes on the flames.

Chapter 30

Lydia shifted until she could see Jericho's legs. Her mind was a confused whirlwind and desire sat at a hot centre. She tried to control the feeling, tried to shove it back from wherever it came from. But a craving had set in, causing her skin to itch and her thoughts to burn hot.

She wanted Jericho. Wanted to go to him now, strip him naked and have him inside her. She set her jaw, determined not to give in, not to relinquish her control. But it felt like all her common sense was failing her. After what she'd seen today, after what had happened to her this week, it was as if all her anchors had shifted, leaving her adrift. Her mother had been killed before she could tell her own daughter the truth of the monsters in the woods. That Lydia had an uncle who hunted and killed them, as had her father.

Lydia shifted in the bed, hands in fists, impatience taking hold like a crazed need. She'd never be able to sleep now. Not with the door open and her partial view of Jericho. A crazy thought entered her mind. That maybe tonight was all she needed from him. A release of sorts, and a grounding of something primal and real.

Before reason could talk her out of it, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Toes curling from the cold floor, she treaded lightly to the door, seeing Jericho stretched out in the lounge room, eyes closed and breath even. When she stepped out of the bedroom, one of his eyes cracked open.

‘What?' he asked, not moving.

Lydia hesitated. She was an idiot. What the hell was she thinking? She opened her mouth to claim she was hungry, when a streak of madness ripped through her like wildfire. With one deft movement, she swept the shirt off and let it fall to the floor. Jericho's eyes flew open and he sat up.

‘Lydia?' His hands gripping the edge of the couch. ‘What are you doing?'

She hesitated. She had intended the gesture to be provocative and sexy. But suddenly she just felt very cold and very naked. A sliver of common sense speared her thoughts: she'd wanted to escape monsters, and here was a real one, right in front of her. But Jericho wasn't moving. He just watched her with a caution that inched up her confidence when she saw the wariness in his eyes. She had power here, she was the one who controlled how this night went.

‘This is a mistake I'm prepared to make once.' She stepped up to him and cupped his face, feeling his hesitant hands brush her skin. Her legs parted and she straddled his lap, her mouth seeking his. ‘Just once.'

* * *

Jericho knew he shouldn't. Knew this would just complicate things. But somehow it didn't seem to matter anymore. He lifted a hand to touch her, feeling goosebumps dimpling her skin as he cupped her breasts, before bending to brush his lips against her collarbone and feeling the puckering of skin. Pulling back a little, he spied scars there, ones that had recently healed. She stilled under his hands and he raised his eyes to meet hers, seeing her waiting for the inevitable questions. Where did the scars come from? Who gave them to her? His hands tightened around her and he stood, carrying her with him, into the bedroom. He would ask her those questions, but he had his own wounds and knew that talking about them sometimes only served to tear them fresh open.

Inside the small bedroom, he set her down on the bed, then shrugged out of his shirt and stretched out over her. She moved beneath him with a soft sigh that set his blood on fire and he ran his tongue over her neck, her skin tasting sweet. His hands clenched around her hips, and he reminded himself to go slow. The beast inside of him strained forward, wanting to claim her, wanting to take her as hard as it could. He clamped down on the desire, shutting off its oxygen. With effort, he kept his touch gentle, careful, even though the need to have her consumed him, a constant vibration under his skin.

He pushed a knee between her legs and pressed against her, the friction sending shivers up his spine. She stroked the side of his face and he claimed her mouth again, thrusting his tongue into her, tasting her. She gave a soft moan, driving a spike of urgency through him, leaving him hard and aching. Her hands fumbled at his belt buckle and he reached down to help, struggling out of his jeans.

‘Jericho.'

His muscles locked at the sound of his name of her lips. He would do anything she asked. She just had to say it. He stared at her, waiting. Would she deny him? Change her mind? See this as the mistake it was? But her next words were just a breathless request as she murmured exactly what she wanted him to do to her.

Jericho didn't need to be told twice. Mistake or not, Lydia was his, for this night at least. Still he held himself back, wanting to savour the moment. He lowered himself down to the soft triangle of hair between her legs, and with gentle kisses he tasted her in small flicks. Her fingers raked through his hair, hips shifting as she gave a cry and he pushed his tongue inside of her, tasting her, his hands splayed across her stomach. Her breaths turned to urgent gasps, before her back arched and she gave a second cry, this one raw and ragged.

Her body relaxed and Jericho pulled himself up, placing light kisses along her jaw, hands kneading her breasts, pulling lightly at her nipples.

‘Do you have protection?' she whispered.

He hesitated, eyes falling to the side table. With a wish on his lips, he reached over and slid the drawer open, finding it full of condoms and porn.

‘Fucking Blades,' he muttered, knowing the club brother used this cabin a little too often with random women. Tonight, though, he found it hard to muster up any ill will towards his brother. He pulled out a line of condoms, tearing one off. He heard her make a small noise when she saw all of him, now fully erect. She eyed him warily as he rolled the condom on.

‘Just to let you know, it's been a little while,' she said.

‘Hmmm.' Jericho leaned over her and began to kiss her, slow and deep. He could wait until she was ready. He could wait until she begged him. His hands stroked her with a featherlike caress, teeth nibbling her skin, and then he whispered in her ear what he was about to do, smiling as her breath quickened.

When he felt her body relax, he pushed himself inside her, trying to be gentle. Her hands scratched his back and he broke from the kiss to thrust his hips forward, pushing in deep. Lydia arched back, pushing herself against him, and his mind blanked out as her scent engulfed him. He began to move with a gentle rhythm, even when he felt her nails dig deep into his back. Then he withdrew, ignoring her protests and bent to capture a nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue over the tip. She murmured to him again, of needing him back inside her, running her hands through his hair. Her touch was electric and Jericho felt all his years of discipline and training in civility dissipate into the cool night air. The beast inside stretched its claws and took him. He released her nipple with a soft growl and pushed her legs wider apart, hooking one arm under her knee and bringing it up high, before pushing himself back inside, feeling her take all of him. With her legs around him, he began to pump into her, hard and fast. Letting go of her leg, he kissed her, tongues entwined as his own climax built, and when Lydia broke the kiss to nip his neck, he bit back a cry as a wave of bliss swept from his belly to his groin. He gripped her close as his pace quickened, then when he came, he rode his orgasm out with gentle rocking motions, holding Lydia as tight as he could.

Chapter 31

Lydia lay in Jericho's arms afterwards, listening to the light rain against the roof. She knew she'd made a mistake, but somehow she couldn't muster up the strength to care. What she needed now was sleep, and lots of it. Leaning against his warm chest, she felt safe and relaxed, something she hadn't felt in a long time.

‘Who gave you these?' Jericho murmured, one hand gently stroking her scars.

‘You tell me about yours, I'll tell you about mine,' she countered.

‘Is this a game of you show me yours, I'll show you mine?' Jericho said, voice teasing.

She twisted to look up at him. ‘Bowden didn't tell you all about me?'

‘He might have mentioned you were attacked.'

‘Yeah,' Lydia said. ‘And it's not something I really want to talk about.'

‘Is that why you get anxiety attacks?' Jericho asked.

‘I'm serious.' She put her head back down on his chest. ‘I don't want to talk about it.'

‘Apparently talking about a problem can help.'

‘Yeah? Do you talk to your crew about all your problems?'

Jericho nodded. ‘Sure. We're like everyone else. We sit around, drinking wine and doing our nails, talking about the girls we have crushes on.'

Lydia gave a short laugh and the tension that had begun to build in her eased away. ‘Okay, I'll share if you will.'

‘Agreed.'

She sucked in a quick breath. ‘I was dating this guy, Peter Randall. We met at the gym, he asked me out. We went on three dates and he was really nice.' Her voice caught and she cleared her throat. She could do this. She could tell him. After all, what happened was in her past, it wasn't the present. And it sure as hell wasn't in her future. ‘After the fourth date, when I didn't want to sleep with him, he attacked me in my apartment. Pulled a knife and came at me. I managed to get into my bathroom, locked it and called for help. They got there in time to catch him.' She gave Jericho a shaky smile. ‘I've had some troubles getting over it all, I guess. I don't think I healed right.'

She realised Jericho's hands were squeezing her too tight and she shifted a little, silently asking him to stop. He let his hands drop for a moment, before one began to play with her hair.

‘Now, you tell me. How did you get here?' she asked. ‘What happened to give you those scars? And how did you become the big, bad boss of a motorbike club?'

‘Not much to tell,' Jericho said, winding a red curl of hair around his finger. ‘I was a foster kid, got bounced around homes until I was old enough to join the army. Stayed until I got recruited to be an Enforcer.'

‘That sounds like half the story,' Lydia said. ‘How did you become Breed?'

His face tightened and he let go of her hair. ‘One of my foster parents attacked me. His wife reported the incident to a local pack and they taught me Breed law.' He shifted, bringing her closer against him, as if he needed the contact. ‘I was luckier than most. Saw plenty of those who didn't do as well, got lost in the cracks and became monsters once infected.'

‘And how did you end up here?' she pressed. ‘Did you apply for the position?'

His laugh was short and bitter. ‘The King I served was retired and I was sent here.'

Lydia leaned her head against his chest with a frown. ‘And when you say retired, do you mean sent to a nice little home in the country?'

‘What do you think?' he asked, voice rumbling his chest.

She sat up, gathering the sheets about her. ‘He was murdered?'

Jericho sighed, stretching his arms and yawning. ‘You know, I really don't want to talk about this anymore.'

‘Is that how you got the scars on your face?' She pressed, suddenly needing to know. ‘When he was … retired?'