Blood Dark (17 page)

C
aitlin wasn’t just trembling
; she was shaking. The cold had got into her bones, the fear deep into every nerve. Carried on the breeze, the full-fledged combat in the distance was her only assurance that Kane was alive. He was still having the hell beaten out of him though if the longevity of the fight was anything to go by, because the creature sure wasn’t going down easy.

She fisted her hands by her sides as she stared at the salt-trail surrounding her before looking back towards the alley opening, towards the darkness.

And she tried to be compliant. For the reason Kane had given her, she tried to stand there and do as he asked.

But he should have known he was asking too much.

Just as she knew there was no way she was staying cooped up safely when he was fighting for his life.

She stepped out of the circle. She picked up the nearest stake of wood like he had, unfastened her sandals and kicked them aside, taking her chances amidst the debris as she marched to the corner of the alley.

Despite the additional weight the creature held in its abdomen, it was still agile and fast, its nails slicing the air at Kane in retaliation to his blows.

As the creature wrong-footed Kane, sending a blow to the back of his head before slamming him against the wall, her grip on the wood tightened.

Her legs may have been leaden with fear, but the anger and adrenaline overwhelmed it. She’d been in enough situations she didn’t want to face. She’d been outnumbered more than once.
And
she’d been pinned to the bonnet of the car by a soul ripper.

More than anything else, it looked like Kane needed a breather. There was no way she was letting that creature lay into him more than it already had.

She closed in on them, Kane’s eyes only having a chance to meet hers for a second before Caitlin swung back and struck the creature hard and fast across the back of the head.

The creature stumbled sideways, Kane subsequently falling onto the debris at his feet.

Keeping her attention on the stasher, she swung again and again and again, hitting its left side then its right and then its left side again, reminding herself not to meet its gaze.

As it failed to lose its balance, she relied more on her combat training, sending quick, powerful and nimble blows to its chest, its back, its legs.

But her kick to its stomach caught her off guard, it having more give that she’d anticipated. Like catching someone in the mouth, the toothless void gave a little, her foot sinking into its mulchy interior, throwing her off balance.

She hit the ground, struggled to yank her foot free of the crevice, but the stasher already had her other foot, dragging her towards it before falling on top of her.

But Kane was there a second later, right behind it, the barbed wire wrapped around the stasher’s throat as he yanked it back off her with a shocking amount of strength.

Caitlin scrambled back before struggling to her feet, catching her breath as Kane slammed his foot into the base of its spine, pinning it onto its bloated front.

He jammed his other foot against the back of its shoulder as he fisted the wire around his hands before tugging back like some macabre sleigh ride.

She didn’t know whether to be in awe or unnerved by what she saw, the sheer ferocity in Kane’s strength coupled with the coldness in his eyes stilling her for a second. But she struggled to her feet, ready should the creature fight back.

It didn’t though, its hands just slammed against the concrete like a dominated wrestler begging for mercy. All the while Kane’s grip on the wire tightened, his biceps flexing into a solid mass of muscle under the strain, his jaw clenched, his body leaning back slightly as he showed no sign of mercy.

Black blood poured from the creature onto the concrete as Kane grated through its skin until it cut clean through his throat to bone.

Shifting his footing, one still on its shoulder but the other now on the back of its upper thigh, Kane reached down to clutch its torn throat. With one final yank, he ripped the skull along with part of the creature’s spine out through its back.

And then he let go.

He stumbled back just a touch.

He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

And his gaze met hers.

K
ane led
her up the stairs, those descending stopping and moving out of the way with curious glances, or plastering themselves against the wall to clear a path for them both.

He pushed open the first door at the top, Caitlin following him inside.

Unlike the dark and shady room he’d led her into last time, this room was beautiful in its original Georgian splendor. Her gaze was drawn immediately to the ornate mahogany four-poster that rested against the left hand wall, heavy red drapes trailing from the frame down behind the pillows in a blood-like waterfall. An outward-facing sofa sat at the foot of it, a winged-back chair offset against the bedside table on the nearside. A door to a bathroom lay in the distance.

Kane grabbed the bottle of clear alcohol from the table and made his way into the bathroom.

Caitlin stood at the threshold behind him, watching as he unbuttoned his torn and bloodied shirt, dropping it on the floor before standing in front of the mirror to examine his wounds.

He’d taken a nasty laceration to his chest and shoulder, as well as the creature having caught him across the cheek.

Grabbing a towel, Kane spilled a heavy dose of the alcohol onto it before washing it over his wounds.

Seeing him flinch and grit his teeth reminded her of when she’d found him in Max’s cellar – tortured, wounded, refusing to reveal secrets about the soul ripper to them; refusing to be baited into giving them anything they wanted. More and more she saw the trait in him. It was in his very nature to go down fighting. And now he looked every bit the wounded warrior.

He wasn’t going to be left with a scar, not having treated himself that quickly, but it wouldn’t have looked wrong on him, it wouldn’t have detracted one bit from who he was.

She stepped in alongside him, turned so her behind was against the countertop. ‘This is what you do, isn’t it? Every day. Every night. You’re out there fighting monsters – real and metaphorical. You lied when you said you were here on vacation; but you didn’t lie when you said you wanted to protect this district.’

He met her gaze briefly before he cast the towel aside.

‘Kane Malloy, the reluctant hero,’ she said.

He turned on the tap and scooped up a mouthful of water before drying his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘Don’t try and romanticise it, Caitlin.’

‘But that is what you are: a hero.’

‘I’m anything but.’

‘A hero steps forward when others step back. You could have stepped back tonight. You could step back from all of this.’

He met her gaze again.

Caitlin slipped into the gap his step back had created.

As their gazes locked, she reached out to run her hand down his bare chest, tracing her fingers with her gaze down the cobra tattoo over his heart, rising out of black smoke – an analogy she understood since knowing what had happened to his family.

She ran her fingertips over his wounds.

‘And a hero, a
real
hero, doesn’t have shining armour. Only those who shy away from the battle can gleam. A real soldier, a
real
knight, their armour is battered, dented, damaged.’ She met his gaze. ‘They have bruises no one can see.’

‘You should know,’ he said, reaching up to gently rub his thumb across the graze on her jaw. ‘You could have stepped back tonight too.’

She slid her fingers along the front of the waistband of his jeans. ‘And have lost you? Have had Blackthorn lose you? Fuck that.’

He broke a hint of a smile.

And it was a smile that confirmed it.

She couldn’t remember a time when she ever wanted him more, when she wanted him with so few questions, so little reservation.

She didn’t want to say anything else, and she didn’t want him to say anything else.

Her mouth dry in anticipation, he looked back into his eyes as she wetted her lips. She lowered her head to lick his chest, just above his wound, feeling the alcohol sting her tongue, before doing the same to the wound on his shoulder, her hands sliding down his tensed arms, feeling every contour, every inch of solid, masculine strength.

She placed feather-light kisses up his throat, Kane leaning his head back slightly to allow her to do so, to allow her to kiss up to his ear where she snagged his earlobe between her teeth, making him catch his breath in a way that only exacerbated the heat between her already damp inner-thighs.

She slid off her dress, letting it fall to the floor before unfastening the top button of his jeans, slowly tugging another couple open.

Tucking her hand inside his shorts, she coiled her palm around his cool erection, Kane instantly jolting in her hand in response. She kept it tender, a few light strokes as she relished in the feel of his silky hardness, her thumb gently caressing his tip as she lifted her lips to his, kissing him once, then twice.

As desire laced his eyes enough to make her pulse race, she eased down onto her knees, the tiles buffered by her fallen dress.

Heat rushed between her legs as she glided her hands up the softness of his low-slung jeans, feeling the strength beneath before she opened the rest of the buttons. Tugging them down to the floor, she did the same with his shorts.

Glancing in the floor-length mirror behind, seeing him braced naked there as she knelt in front of him, the sword tattoo that ran the length of his spine exposed, she felt her own jolt of arousal. Arousal that escalated as she returned her attention to his rigid length.

Wrapping her hand back around him, she guided him to his mouth. The clench of his thighs, the sharp intake of his breath as her lips closed over him only fuelled her desire for him more. His sigh was exquisite, the taste of his pre-cum intoxicating, the hitch in his breath enough to want her to take him deeper as she slid her hand up to clutch his behind.

Wanting the same, he edged himself deeper into her mouth, entwining his fingers in the hair on the back of her head. And taking him deeper only intensified the sensation as she felt him pulsate in her mouth, his hand clenching on the back of her neck as he worked with her, guided her hand with his, showing her how to work him with her fingers as much as her mouth; showing her what he wanted and how, his firmness with himself more than she would have dared attempt.

And the firmer his grip, the hungrier he became for her, the more controlling he became. She knew then that she may have started it, but Kane was going to finish it. He was going to remain in her mouth for as long as he chose to, and the prospect sent a spark to her deepest core.

As she heard his breathing become more ragged, felt his tension as he braced himself, her thoughts were only of bringing him to the edge, wanting him to come in her mouth.

But she almost fell back as he released her, and would have done had he not pulled her to her feet, pressed her bare behind back against the counter.

Hands then cupping her jaw, he subtly licked his incisor behind slightly parted lips, his eyes still hooded with desire. But there was something more.

As he closed his lips over hers, her heart skipped a beat. Because the kiss wasn’t so much hungry as tender. The clever workings of his lips, his teeth and his tongue all manipulating hers in perfect synchrony had her clutching the counter behind her for the passing moments. And as he flicked the clasp on the back of her strapless bra, as he tugged it away to leave no further barrier between them, his gentle cupping of her flesh had her sighing with pleasure. His cool mouth lowered to her breast, his tongue caressing her hardened nipple had her raking her nails down his back, down his hip, down his behind.

And as he lifted her up onto the edge of the counter, her thighs parting around his without hesitation, she tugged him closer still so that there was no space between them, so that she could slide her hands down to clutch his bare behind fully, to feel its strength beneath her palms as his kiss deepened.

She pressed her hand to his chest, encouraging him to stop, something he did despite his frown being laced with impatience.

And it was that impatience that she liked more than anything.

Right then, Kane wanted her. Kane
really
wanted her.

She knew she was trembling, but this time it was nothing to do with anxiety and, from the heat emanating from her skin, it was nothing to do with cold.

Without allowing herself to think about it, she eased back on the deep vanity unit so she was sat against the wall.

Gracefully as she could, she drew up her legs to her chest, the heels an inch from the edge of the counter. And in a move more blatant than she had ever dared, her eyes still locked on Kane’s, she slid her legs open for him.

There was a small flare in his eyes that was dangerously satisfying, eyes that snapped to between her parted thighs, that unashamedly lingered before meeting her gaze again. From the tension in his jaw, in his shoulders, she had got to him in a big way.

And it was intoxicating.

Her stomach clenched as he turned his head sideways slightly, giving him that predatory quality that only made her arousal soar. Because his eyes glistened with intent, his body as dangerously still and steady as his gaze.

The prospect of what he might do next was as invigorating as being sat there fully exposed to him. And his patience, the torturous seconds that passed as he raked his gaze across her shoulders, down over her bare breasts, to between her legs again, added to the anticipation.

‘I love it when you tremble like that,’ he said.

As he took himself in his hand, she bit back a breath. Just seeing his hand wrapped around his own erection sent her pulse racing, let alone the fact he was so relaxed, so unashamed as he tightened his grip, as he rhythmically stroked himself whilst taking in every inch of her down to her ankles.

‘I love hearing your heart race,’ he added. ‘When you can barely breathe.’

When his eyes met hers again, her heart skipped a beat.

‘You’re beautiful, Caitlin,’ he said. ‘Everything about you is beautiful.’

Her lips parted, but words failed her.

Everything fell away as she saw only him, as she saw only the depths in his eyes.

She barely noticed that his hands were then sliding up over her feet to grasp her ankles. He spread her legs even further before gliding his hands around the backs of her calves, the coolness, the tenderness of his caress causing her to press her head back against the wall, to close her eyes for just a second to relish in it.

His kiss was slow, intimate, exploratory, indulgent as he licked the underside of her teeth before wrapping his tongue around hers, delving deep enough for her to press her head back further against the wall, to catch his upper arms, to dig her nails into solid muscle.

Grasping her behind, he slid her towards him to ease her down onto her back. But from the look in his eyes, from the steadiness of his kiss, she knew it was going to be different this time.

She arched her back just a little, balanced only by his firm grip on her behind, his thighs nestled between hers. And those eyes, the look in those deep navy eyes, could have held her in suspended animation for an eternity because she knew another connection had been forged. Something deeper was happening between them. She relaxed as he looped his arms beneath her spread thighs, raising her knees slightly with the position as he gripped the insides of her elbows, pinning them to the vanity unit.

Right then, she knew she would have done anything for him. She would have let him do anything to her.

As he eased into her just an inch, her skin prickled, a cold heat sweeping over her, the soreness from his rough penetration a couple of hours before eased only by how wet she was for him.

The fact he was silent, the fact their gazes remained locked, only heightened the sensation. The fact his penetration was so mindfully slow eased his entry more as she adjusted to accommodate him again as he pushed deeper still until he finally entered her fully.

She arched her back and snapped back a breath, knowing that nothing could ever feel better than his hardness buried deep inside her, that ultimate connection with him.

With the male she loved.

Deeply. Unforgivably.

Withdrawing his mouth from hers, both hands then releasing her elbows to lock on her hips, she watched the expression in his eyes – the desire, the warmth – as he stood fully upright to watch his penetration. She traced down to his lips that were now parted, his incisors extending as he filled her again and again, his eyes as thick with intent as hers no doubt were too as he thrust deeper, harder, the tension building deep in the pit of her clenching abdomen.

And as those eyes met hers again, she knew what he wanted, she knew what he needed, she knew what he was intending.

Gently withdrawing, he carried her through to the bedroom, her thighs still wrapped around his as he lay her down on the covers.

He met her gaze only once more, his incisors then fully extended, before he lowered his head to her inner thigh: the place no one would notice.

She braced herself.

He licked her slowly, letting the anesthetic take hold. But she still felt his incisors break deep into her sensitive flesh, only the sting being removed, but not the sensation.

She reached down and clenched her nails in his short hair as he fed, spreading her legs further for him. And as his thumb simultaneously worked her sex, she shuddered, her hands balling into fists before she slammed them behind her head, gripping the covers until she lost all sensation. As he applied pressure to her clit, as his thumb then found the depths of her sex, she knew she was coming.

And she came as he fed, as he kept feeding, as he kept her thighs parted around his shoulders, as his thumb worked something inside her that she didn’t even know existed, her light-headedness creating sparks behind her eyes.

As he moved back on top of her, as he thrust back inside her in one sharp move, she reached up to clasp his neck, licked the taste of her blood from his lips. His bloodied lips that he lowered to hers, that hungrily consumed hers again as he drew from the energy of her orgasm as much as he had from her blood.