Calder (12 page)

“It was an experiment. Stupid and simple. I was with two women.” Katarina flicked her gaze away, guessing
how
he was with the two women. “The research team started a fire. I had time to rescue only one. Who would I choose?”

“Choose?” Katrina asked, outraged. “How could they do that?”

“It was supposed to be ‘safe’ for both women, preplanned. I didn’t know what was going on, of course. I thought the emergency was real. I didn’t choose. I got one woman out and went back for the other. But the assholes lost control of the fire. I barely reached the second woman in time. I got her to the door, threw her out and then the room collapsed on me. It roasted me alive.”

Katarina’s mouth hung open. “Dear gods, how did you escape?”

“I didn’t. When they finally got the fire out and cleaned up, only then did they drag out my body. They thought I was dead. They were going to harvest what was left of me and put it back into the DNA vat. They were stunned when they realized I was still alive. They would still have killed me, but Dr. Laas—she was a geneticist there— decided to save me. I’m still not sure whether I’m grateful to her or not.”
“I am.” Katarina got off the bed and came to him. “I’m glad she saved you and that I met you.”

She slid her arms around him and leaned into him, her warmth like a gentle touch.

Calder stilled. The last woman to whom he’d revealed his true body had rubbed herself against him and purred—
Gods, you’re so hideous you make me want to come.
If Katarina started doing that he wasn’t sure what he’d do. Throw her out? Or use her need to sate his own?

Katarina looked up at him, her eyes wet. “I hate them for doing this to you.”

Calder couldn’t answer. Words stuck in his throat. Katarina ran her hands down his body, finding the smooth scars that coated his torso. They were even scars, grafts that Dr. Laas had laid down in careful succession.

He liked the feeling of Katarina’s hands on him. Her fingertips were cool, lightly exploring. Calder wanted to fuck her—his hard-on was having a hard-on—but he didn’t want to stop her play.

Katarina lifted her fingertips away to replace them with her lips. Her hair tickled his massive cock as she leaned to kiss his scars.

Then came her tongue. She licked across his abdomen, pausing to play at his navel then moving down to his cock. He thought of the way she’d taken him in her mouth the day Braden had brought her here, and his penis stretched toward her, wanting that hot wetness around it again.

But Katarina took her lips away and touched his tip. “No scars there.”

He balled his fists. “I got lucky.”

Katarina moved her hand to his balls, her touch uncertain. “It’s not so bad.”

“What, my cock? I’m glad you think so.”

“I meant your scars.” She drew her hand across his pectorals. “I know of some techniques that might reduce the scarring…”
Calder grabbed her wrist. “No. I’ve gone through that time and again. No more. I’m not a fucking lab rat.”

She looked startled. “I didn’t mean—”

“Get on the bed.” When Katarina kept staring at him, Calder picked her up and tossed her on her back on the bed. “Spread.”

Katrina’s eyes went wide but she kept her thighs closed.

“This is what you get,” he growled. “This is all me. I don’t want you to
fix
me or cry over me. I want you to either be disgusted and run away, or I want you to crave The Beast. Which is it going to be?”

Katarina half sat up, eyes flashing. “I’m not one of your highborn women, wanting to be with some terrifying creature. I want
you
. Calder.”

“Open your thighs and you’ve got me.”

Her look remained stubborn. Shit, he was going to come all over her before he even touched her. No woman had ever had this kind of power over him. Calder was always in control.

Katarina was making him lose every ounce of control he’d ever had.

“I want you to be Calder,” she said. “Not The Beast. Not the level-three Shareem.

You
.”

“Level-three Shareem is what you’ll get, honey. And when we’re done here, I’ll whip your ass for being so disobedient.”

Calder expected her to grow frightened, to beg to leave, but she’d obviously gotten used to Shareem. “Promise?” she asked, her smile coy.

Calder gave up trying to contain himself. He climbed over her and yanked her legs apart.

“You’re my lady,” he said as he positioned his cock at her opening. He took a handful of her hair. “Mine. Not fucking Braden’s. Not any other Shareem’s.
Mine
.”

“If you insist.”
He kissed her to stop her talking. She was wet and slippery, no need for lube, though he knew she was a virgin. At least, she’d told him so. The thought that some other Shareem might have tasted her first made him angry.

“Am I the first?” he asked.

Katarina dragged in a breath. “I told you. Yes.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ll know.”

“You’re the first, Calder. I’ve never had anyone. Will you believe me this time?”

“We’ll find out.” He wanted to thrust in fast, but he stopped himself in time.

Don’t hurt her.

He hid a groan of release as he slid in, slowly but firmly, pouring his pheromones over her to soften any pain he caused. She was so tight, squeezing him so damn hard.

She’d told the truth—Calder was her first.

“Am I hurting you, baby?”

“No.”

“Good.” He kissed her face, stroked her hair. “I don’t want to hurt you. Ever. I’ll make it sweet, Katarina.”

He loved saying her name. He said it again as he buried himself to his balls.

She smelled good, her come wetting his penis and his thighs. He liked the sound it made, the whisper of cream against flesh.

“This is fucking,” he murmured. “This is good.”

She nodded, her eyes half closing, her face softening.

Calder had never felt a pussy like hers. Because she was a virgin? Or because she was Katarina?

Didn’t matter. He sucked in his breath as she clamped him like wet silk, squeezing him hard. Her breasts pressed against his chest, those beautiful nipples firm against his skin.
He should make it slow, sweet and good. If he was level one, he could. But he was level three, built to do it rough. Built to make his lady scream.

Don’t hurt her.

His body had other ideas. He thrust into her a second time, then a third. She rocked up to meet him, the little sounds in her throat intoxicating. He bit her neck, then licked it, then bit it again.

He almost came when Katarina bit
him
, her teeth points of pain on his shoulder.

“Vixen,” he growled.

She laughed at him.
Laughing.
At The Beast.

Calder lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips. That opened her wide, so he could fuck her harder, deeper, faster.

She was a soft, sweet armful, looking up at him with that trusting smile. He was The Beast, the scarred, hideous creature who could do anything to her. And Katarina smiled.

Calder felt her fingertips tracing the scars on his arms and back. She lifted her hand to his face but she studied his eyes, not the wreck of his skin. The caresses didn’t feel like fascination with his ruined face—she was caressing
him
.

Damn you, woman. Why are you making me
feel
?

He growled. Nothing existed but Katarina’s touch, her pussy clamped around his cock, her smooth legs enclosing his.

“Gods,” he moaned. “Katarina, what are you doing to me?”

She kept touching him, her breath coming faster, and Calder couldn’t stop his thrusts. This was heaven, her entire body wrapped around his, dissolving himself in this woman who wanted to be with him.

He rode her for a long time while his bed moved under his onslaught and she smiled, or groaned, or whispered his name like she loved the sound of it. It had never
been like this before, ever. Never with a woman he hadn’t been paid to pleasure, never fucking her because he simply wanted to be with her.

Katarina’s groans wound higher and so did his, until she cried out in joy. Calder heard his own voice join hers and then everything blurred. He was coming, great gobs of it shooting into her. His juices blended with hers, scalding where they joined.

He kept riding her, feeling her sheath pulse around his cock, drawing every last bit of come he had.
Greedy bitch.
He loved it.

Katarina fell back from him, panting and smiling. Her brown hair fanned out on the pillow like tangles of silk.

Calder rested his weight on his hands, still inside her. “Do you think we’re done, sweetheart?” he asked, trying to catch his breath.

“Aren’t we?” Katarina ran her hand through his damp hair. “You came. So did I.”

“Do you still feel me?”

Her smile widened. “Yes.”

“You want more fucking. You want me to keep fucking you until you fall asleep with me hard inside you.”

“How do you know that?”

She looked so damn sweet. Calder pulled out halfway, the skin on his thighs tender where he’d rubbed hers raw. Katarina’s forehead was wet with sweat, and sweat slicked her breasts against his chest.

“I’m Calder, sweetheart. I know what you want.”

She touched him. “Do you read minds or something?”

“I read faces and scents and pheromones. I
know
.”

“And I know that you want to keep on. You want to come again and again, but you’re afraid of hurting me.”

She touched him again. Damn, why was she so gentle? He wasn’t worth that.

He kissed her. Katarina tried to kiss back but she could barely move her lips.
“
Did
I hurt you?” he asked. He brushed the hair back from her face, knowing he’d never felt so incredibly tender as he did looking down at her now.

“No. I’m resilient.”

“Good.” He slowly thrust into her again, ready to screw her all night. He’d never sate himself on her, never. But he’d have a damn good time trying.

He slid his hand between them, working her clit until she lifted her hips again. He rode her, faster this time, a little harder, but conscious that she was still new at this.

Katarina held him, her climax sending hot shivers through her body.

Just as he came, shouting with it, Katarina pulled him close.

“I love you,” she murmured.

Something cold shot through him and then a feeling so terrifying Calder didn’t want to touch it. He might shatter it, shatter her.

He withdrew from her, which was physically easy because they were both so wet.

He looked down at her a long time while she smiled, kissed the corner of his mouth and closed her eyes. She was ready to sleep, spent by their lovemaking. He needed to let her sleep.

His emotions rolled over him one after the other, culminating in stark terror.

Who the hell said Shareem didn’t have emotions? They were driving him insane right now.

Calder finally slid next to her and drew a blanket up to cover both their bodies.

Katarina smiled again then drifted to sleep, but he stayed awake, watching her, something in him breaking and falling away.
Chapter Ten

“Where is she?”

Braden’s baritone woke Katarina from a sound sleep. Calder’s bedroom was dark, but that didn’t mean it was still night. He had no windows. He didn’t have a clock either, that she could see. She asked for lights and a dim one obligingly came on.

Calder wasn’t in bed with her, and neither he nor Braden were in the room.

Katarina’s clothes lay neatly folded over a chair. She hadn’t done that.

She heard Calder rumble from the outer room and then Braden’s voice again. “Bite me. She didn’t come home when she was supposed to. I was worried.”

Katarina pulled on her tunic and pants and opened the door. “I’m here, Braden.”

Braden’s diatribe shut off. “So Calder said.”

Calder leaned against the end of his sofa, pissed as hell. He wore nothing but a loincloth, his long ponytail dripping. He must have been in the shower when Braden came pounding on the door.

Katarina had seen him bare last night, but she’d been wound up with need. Plus his pheromones had poured over her. Plus he’d been rock-hard, very tasty.

Now Katarina could see how the scars on his body were of one piece, as though a giant claw had raked diagonally up his body. Beneath the skin, his muscles bulged, firm and strong, except for his abdomen, where he bore a concave gouge in his left side.

His narrow hips looked normal—well, normal for a finely built, hard-bodied man.

Katarina could attest to how firm his buttocks were—she’d squeezed them enough last night. But the skin had been completely tattered, shredded, removed and replaced.

Braden looked at Katarina and she read worry in his eyes, along with shock, compassion and sorrow. Had he never seen Calder’s scars, then?
“What time is it?” she asked.

Calder stood like a stone, so Braden answered. “Almost sundown.”

Katarina put her hand to her mussed hair. “Crap.”

“When you didn’t come in after your shift, I walked to the clinic,” Braden said.

“When you weren’t there I got
really
worried. The receptionist said you’d left with a Shareem, and she didn’t look happy to see me.”

“I’m sorry, Braden. I should have sent word.”

“Mother hen,” Calder rumbled.

“Hey, this is a bad part of town for highborn ladies.”

“It’s nice that he cares,” Katarina said.

Calder glared at Braden. “If you think I’d let anything happen to her, you’re an idiot.”

“How could I know?” Braden shot back. “You refuse to talk to her for weeks and hole yourself up here and don’t come out. How could I guess that you were with her?

She could have been back-alley fodder.”

“She’ll never be that. I’ve been making sure of it.”

Katarina put her hands on her hips. “Are you saying you’ve been following me?”

“Not following. Looking out for you.”

“What’s the difference?”

Calder stood, his face dark with anger. “Braden is right that you don’t belong down here. I’ve been watching to make sure you make it home from your clinic, because Braden never does. You wouldn’t believe the scum who try to follow you.”