Daybreak (23 page)
“I can.”
“I thought you were a healer with a few tricks up your sleeve.”
“That too.”
Pen dared look at where he sat cross-legged. He’d donned his shirt, but the neck hung open. She wanted to drag her tongue up from his pectoral to his jaw. Simply tasting. She could indulge for hours, learning what made him gasp and curse. To have that impact on a man—not one who needed her pity or her solace, but one who wanted to share the wonder of eager bodies coming together . . .
“Pen?”
He didn’t sound angry. Just confused. She took a breath and fought the way her shoulders hunched.
“I can kill, too,” she said simply. “That story I told you about being trapped, demon dogs everywhere?”
“Yeah?”
“That’s not . . . exactly how it happened.”
“You lied to me? Shit, and I thought you’d finally given me something honest.”
She flinched. The meat provided energy, but strength would need to come from her will. “I wasn’t prepared to tell you that I lost control. I lied when I said the dogs took out the guards. I didn’t wait that long, because I didn’t trust the guards to protect us. And even if they managed to ward off the attack, they’d only haul us up to O’Malley territory.”
Tru tipped his head, as if he could see her secrets if he only looked hard enough. Maybe he could. After all, his pain and his anger were dragging out the truth. “What did you do?”
“Killed them. All of them.”
“The dogs?”
“And the guards.” Her breath caught. She swallowed it back. “And the five girls with me.”
“The same way? With your magic?”
“I . . . lost control. This pain started in my chest and got bigger and bigger until I couldn’t find my thoughts anymore. I just kept hearing those dogs. Those fucking
evil
dogs. They killed Mama in the snow and they were right outside, banging against the metal. Screams from the guards. And the girls wouldn’t be quiet. They screamed, too. I couldn’t see anymore. Just black, even though my eyes were wide open.” She shoved at the tears on her cheeks. “I wanted them all to go away. That’s what I thought. Just
go away.
”
evil
dogs. They killed Mama in the snow and they were right outside, banging against the metal. Screams from the guards. And the girls wouldn’t be quiet. They screamed, too. I couldn’t see anymore. Just black, even though my eyes were wide open.” She shoved at the tears on her cheeks. “I wanted them all to go away. That’s what I thought. Just
go away.
”
The echo of that thought cut through years of defenses. She’d almost been able to convince herself of the lies she told Tru. Almost. But the desperation of trying to revive the girls in the van never let her go.
“I tried to heal them,” she said. “I don’t even remember their names. But they were dead. Just dead. And I’d done that. In my fear, I’d given in to an impulse that shouldn’t ever be indulged. Not ever.”
He listened in silence, and the raw scrape of her throat kept her grounded. “I’ve killed with knives—O’Malley’s men—or in self-defense,” she continued. “But until the raid last night, I hadn’t killed with magic since that day. Inside I’m some blind, desperate
evil
thing. How could I ever open up to anyone, knowing what lurks in me, ready to blow?”
evil
thing. How could I ever open up to anyone, knowing what lurks in me, ready to blow?”
Tru sat very still. His anger remained obvious, in the tense tendons along his neck and his fisted hands. She wanted to look away, but seeing the exact moment he shut her out was important. She needed that proof he would stay gone for good this time, not teasing her heart with the hopeful possibility of another return. But his expression remained almost . . . blank.
Then he seemed to make a decision. He scooted across the scant distance between them. And took her back into his arms. “Hold on to me,” he whispered.
Pen melted. She gripped his torso, her head tucked low. She didn’t cry, not anymore, but the shaking wouldn’t ease. Heel to crown, she shook with relief. His deep, hushed words soothed her frayed nerves. She felt protected, even from herself.
He stroked her hair in a lulling rhythm. “You never let up, do you?”
“If I let up for a second, I kill. Indiscriminately. How am I supposed to live with that?”
The shudder that rippled across his strong shoulders took her by surprise. “And you think that makes you, what—special? Or freakish? Pen, I live with that all the time.”
She stilled. Her hands pressed against the skin of his back, up under his shirt, but she needed to see his eyes. “Your lion self?”
“Imagine how hard it was to hold him back after those bastards murdered my family.”
“It tore you up.”
He nodded tightly. “It did.”
“And yet you’re here with me? Why? I don’t understand.”
“Don’t . . . ?” Tru rubbed her upper arms with agitated strokes. “How can you not get it? Pen, my mom hardly gave a shit if I lived or died. I might not have told them enough, but Mason and Jenna set me right. Without them, I never would’ve been man enough to fall for Danni. To father a child, for chrissake. But you act like you never even met them, let alone learned what love looks like.”
Pen tipped her head up and found his jaw. She licked him there, just as she’d imagined. “Can I tell you something, Tru?”
He stared down at her, eyes wary. “What?”
“I didn’t want you to come back.”
“I almost didn’t. I started to leave a dozen times.”
The salt of sea water and sweat tempted her to take another taste. She nuzzled closer. Her nose pressed against the tight beat of his pulse. She kissed him with her mouth open. Licking. Then sucking. A scrape of teeth. Beneath the shirt, his skin gave way to the press of her nails.
Tru groaned her name.
“But you came back,” she said. “I saw you and my heart cried out. So now I have something else to live with. It just
is
.”
is
.”
The fingers digging into the flesh of her hips went still. “What is?”
“Wanting you.” She sucked at the place where his neck met his shoulder. That taut tendon bunched beneath her nips and bites. “I want you, Tru. And I don’t like being out of control. It’s dangerous. But you make me want to get lost in something so much bigger.”
“Passion isn’t the same as violence.”
A shift of her legs meant she straddled him. His erection pressed against her belly, hot and hard. “Feels like it. Feels like we could rip each other apart and it wouldn’t be enough. Tell me that’s not how it is for you.”
“Pen—”
“Tell me, and I’ll stop.”
With a tilt of his wrists, he bent her back and found her throat. The growth of his stubble scratched her skin in a delicious rasp. He sensitized every nerve, drawing her outside of her own mind. He repeated every lick and nibble and bite, as if he’d memorized the way she tried to claim him.
He threaded fingers into her hair and tugged. “And if I tell you that’s
exactly
how it feels?”
exactly
how it feels?”
“Then I’d ask you to make love to me.”
“Here? Are you sure?”
“About what, making love?” She pressed her breasts against him, arching slightly. He had to be able to feel the damp heat between her legs. “I said I want you.”
The light outside had taken on a soft, golden pink hue. Seabirds cried against the wind. Storm gone. Day begun. Pen locked eyes with Tru and felt the world shift beneath her. She didn’t just want his body, although that new impulse was stronger than she would’ve liked. She wanted him to pry her open and shove some feeling under her skin. Lust. Hurt. Anger. That it didn’t matter should’ve bothered her more, but the greed didn’t allow her to be picky.
“What do you have in mind? One night? A dozen?” he asked against her mouth.
“I . . . don’t know. This is new for me. And I’m scared, too.”
In making the admission, as he had, something deep in her blood eased. Relaxed. Softened in such a way that only anticipation remained. Because Tru was strong. He was a survivor. And if anyone could see her through to the other side of this madness, he could.
But this man would never be hers. She understood that on an even deeper level than before. His heart belonged to another, while hers simply ached to be heard. With a silent oath, she vowed never to impose like that. He’d had the love of his life. He’d lost her. Never would Pen ask him to risk that again. And for her own sake, the one-on-one responsibility for another person’s happiness and safety was too great to bear.
They could share this, though. Share a moment of freedom in a world that had stolen so many choices. She ached for that transcendence, no matter how brief.
“Show me how it can be,” she whispered. “Tru, help me lose control.”
TWENTY-FOUR
She’s trying to distract me with sex.
And it was working. Her warm weight, her desperate arms around him—Tru wasn’t immune to that from any woman, but with Pen, it carried extraordinary allure. Instinctively he knew she didn’t ask men for this. Ever.
Which meant he was special.
He exhaled a soft breath against her mouth to still her nervous words. She gazed at him. Wide-eyed. Fierce. Full of doubts. So
completely
unlike Danni’s straightforward joy. For the first time, he could hold another woman without that sharp splinter of regret because she wasn’t the right one. Lost was lost, as the lion said, and the heart moved on. He didn’t feel guilty about it anymore because Danni would understand. She would have hated how he spent his most recent years, drifting instead of living.
completely
unlike Danni’s straightforward joy. For the first time, he could hold another woman without that sharp splinter of regret because she wasn’t the right one. Lost was lost, as the lion said, and the heart moved on. He didn’t feel guilty about it anymore because Danni would understand. She would have hated how he spent his most recent years, drifting instead of living.
“Stop talking,” he whispered, dropping a kiss onto Pen’s nose. “That’s the first step. And then unhook your brain. It’s easy. I barely use mine anymore.”
Tru stole another kiss to prevent her from protesting. The silly darling meant to defend him; he just knew it. He deepened their contact with soft strokes of his tongue, lips playing with hers. She would decide how fast to go, how deep, when to press and taste, when to retreat. He let her guide it all, knowing she could command her own seduction better than he. Women led with their minds.
She kissed him with voracious hunger, quivering from head to toe. Without seeming aware of the motion, she bucked against his hard cock. The friction drove him crazy, but this wasn’t about him. At least not entirely.
So he did what he’d wanted the first time he really touched her, when he’d massaged her shoulders. Gently, he turned her on his lap. The round curves of her ass nestled against his erection. The heat of her made him groan as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. With a tilt of her head, she offered access to her neck. Short hair made her throat irresistible, all gorgeous swanlike grace, arched and vulnerable. He swooped to kiss the spot just beneath her ear and trailed his teeth down her nape. Her shudder told him she liked it, so he bit and licked down the smooth skin until she writhed against him, pushing her ass down in his lap.
Not seduction. Pleasure. He just wanted to make her feel good, and she had to know it. No distance either. He was right there with her, aching. He yearned to be inside her, but she needed to think of nothing but her body and her pleasure when the time came.
Still nuzzling at that delicious neck, he cupped her breasts. Through the well-worn fabric of her shirt, he pricked the hard points of her nipples. He teased with slow, deliberate strokes, counterpoint to the teeth on her throat, and then applied more pressure with his palms. Pen arched on a little breathless cry. He stroked up and down her torso in a gentle glide, avoiding her breasts this time, just teasing ribs and hips.
“Oh, please,” she whispered.
A touch to her knee. “Here?”
She shook her head and leaned farther into his arms, head on his shoulder. Her chest rose and fell as her knees bent, splayed wide. That deliberate, open-legged pose was the same as a spoken request, bold and luscious. His own hand trembled when he caressed a path over her hip to the tie on her trousers. The strings fell away, loosening the fabric. Just the sound of his breath, hers, and the waves lapping on the shore. The quiet turned him on more, adding another layer of intensity. Tru delved with delicate flourishes. First just forays, a bare caress of heat over her lower belly. She raised her hips. A whimper, deep in her throat.
He was afraid because he wanted her too much. His cock twitched when he touched her hot, slick labia. She jerked—not trying to get away, but to press closer. He brushed her clit, fingers working smoothly inside her. Mental images, straight from her deepest fantasies, bombarded his mind and left him dizzy with desire. Tru complied with those unconscious instructions. Slide, press. He eased one finger inside and hooked it. When Pen gasped and relaxed her thighs, he slipped another finger inside her.
“Yes,
yes,
” she moaned.
yes,
” she moaned.
More pictures. This time he didn’t question them. Instead, he lifted her to her knees above him, facing him, and leaned in. Pen tasted of salt and woman, rain-sweet, and she screamed when he lashed his tongue against her clit. She clutched his head, her knees wobbling, and he held her in place while he feasted. Slow lick. Gentle glide. Tracing her lips with his tongue. He spread her with his fingertips and claimed her with slow, deep thrusts of his tongue.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, moved his head where she wanted it. Tru let her take what she needed. Bucking, she didn’t speak anymore, at least not in words. And when she came, she tasted like heaven.
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