How to Worship a Goddess (21 page)

Chapter 8

Brand came awake slowly, fighting through sludgy black unconsciousness.

He had the sense that his entire body should be one painful ache.

Which it wasn't. Actually, he felt pretty damn good. And that probably meant only one thing. Whatever Sal had tried, it hadn't worked.

All successful ventures required a little pain, right? He could only assume he'd failed. He tried to open his eyes but they felt like they had weights on them.

“He's waking.”

“Should we get Lucy?”

A pause. “No. Not yet. Let me make sure he's really okay before we get her hopes up.”

Get her hopes up? What the hell?

He fought against the darkness that wanted to consume him again and felt the warmth of a hand stroking his forehead. Not Lucy. He knew Lucy's touch.

“Shh, Brandon. You need to remain calm. Stop struggling against the spell. We want you to stay still. We need to make sure everything's working properly before we let you get up and move around.”

He wanted to fight against that voice, a female voice that sounded young. But it wasn't Cat and it definitely wasn't Lucy.

“'z she 'kay?”

Shit, that sounded like gibberish, even to his thick brain, but apparently whoever was listening to him could understand.

“Yes, Lucy's fine. You've been out cold for several hours. She finally laid down to get some rest. You wouldn't want us to wake her, would you?”

“No, huh uh.”

He swore he could hear the woman smile. “Of course not. Now just go back to sleep.”

No, he needed to make a phone call, needed to call… who? Shit, he had obligations—

Brandon opened his eyes and stared for several minutes at wood beams in a ceiling he didn't recognize. Good workmanship. Nice joints…

He must have fallen back to sleep because bright sunlight peeked around the edges of the shade on the one window to the left of the bed. Turning his head, he looked for a clock, though his internal clock told him he was late for practice.

“
Shit
.”

He sat up in bed then froze, waiting for the pain to start. Headache, muscle aches, nausea.

Nothing.

He looked down. Naked chest. Lifted the thin sheet covering him from the waist down. Naked everywhere. And erect. Holy hell, he had an erection that wouldn't quit. So of course, he wanted to know where Lucy was.

“Well, good morning. We were beginning to worry.”

A pretty blonde walked into the room, stethoscope around her neck, wearing light blue scrubs and a nurse's smile. He shoved the sheet down into his lap, hopefully covering his damn unruly cock.

The woman pretended not to notice what he was doing as she reached for his wrist and he held it out automatically for her to take his pulse. He opened his mouth but she beat him to it.

“Before you ask,” she slipped her stethoscope from around her neck and stuck it against his chest, “Lucy's in the next room. She's still sleeping. Whatever you guys did last night, you did it up good. You're nearly healed though, and Amity and Dane said you'll be fine after you're rested.”

“I've got a game Thursday.” The response was automatic. And true.

The nurse smiled. “Yeah, well, I don't think you'll be playing. The doctor will be in to talk to you soon. Just lie back and relax. I'll make sure Lucy knows you're awake. I'm Tam, by the way.”

“Brandon.”

Her smile widened. “Yes, I know who you are. Hell, everyone in the den knows who you are.”

With her hand on his shoulder pressing him back into the bed, he lay back, wondering if that was good or bad. He meant to ask until he felt Tam's fingers exploring the faint scar on his chest.

“Damn. That almost looks like I didn't have a knife shoved through my heart.”

Tam's eyes narrowed down into slits. “Do you remember what happened? I'm not trying to pry. In fact, I'm not asking for details. I'm only asking if you can recall what happened or do you feel like there're pieces missing from your memory?”

What the hell did he remember from last night? He remembered the altar and he remembered a big-ass knife. He remembered Sal lifting that knife and—

He sucked in a deep breath and looked down at his chest. “I remember Sal shoving a knife through my chest. After that, I'm blank.”

“Then I guess you can rest easy because that's exactly what happened.”

He took a deep breath… and swore he caught Lucy's scent. Damn, his sense of smell had always been better than anyone else he knew, which made the locker room after a game a hellhole for him, but it'd never been that good.

Maybe Lucy was coming toward him.

“Brandon? Are you okay?”

As a matter of fact, the more he concentrated, the more he realized there was a different level of scent.

And his eyesight… Everything looked clearer. And brighter.

He blinked. “Uh, yeah. I'm fine.”

“And nothing hurts?”

He gave that one some thought. “No…”

“Then I'd say you were pretty luck—”

“I think you'd better get out of here.”

Tam's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Brandon, what—”

He'd been truthful when he said nothing hurt. What he felt wasn't painful. But he knew exactly what he was feeling even though he hadn't felt it in years.

“Go. Leave. I don't want to hurt you.”

“What's wro—”

“Get out!”

The words came out as a roar and Tam made for the door. Backwards. Never taking her eyes off of him. Probably a smart move on her part because if she'd looked away, he may have leaped for her. As she shut the door to the room, the lock clicking into place made the rage boiling in his gut intensify.

Where the hell it came from, he had no idea. He only knew what it was because he remembered the feeling from when he'd been a kid.

That frightening sense of losing control combined with the heat of fury.

Something had happened last night, something that threatened to turn him into a ravening beast. Control. He needed to find some before he tore this room apart. But the rage bubbled and burned.

Go
ahead. Tear it up. They did this to you. They made you like this.

No, they hadn't made him like this. This was him and yet, somehow, he'd managed to keep it contained. Now, this feeling had a way out and it wanted to take it.

He tried to contain it, tried to shove it back in that little metaphysical box he'd always known was there but could ignore before. Now he couldn't find the right combination to lock the box.

He shoved himself off the bed and landed on the floor, planting his feet on the cold wood planks and trying to let that coolness seep into him. Didn't work. He wanted to rip something apart with his hands. Wanted to—he caught her scent again and he knew what he wanted. He wanted her. She was his and he had to have her.

He lunged for the door and yanked but it stood against him. Muscles straining as he pulled the handle, he fought to open it but it wouldn't.

That roar… that sound that wasn't his and yet had come from his body.

Jesus, that was freaky. What—

He banged on the door and watched his claws rake deep furrows into the wood.

His claws…

What the
fuck
.

He held his hands out in front of him, staring at the claws that'd sprung from his nails. Fucking
claws
. Long, lethal-looking. Sharp as hell and bone white.

“Brandon.”

Her voice through the door. His woman's voice. He wanted to sink those claws into her—

“Brandon, are you okay?”

Fuck, no.
“No, I'm not safe. Stay out, Lucy.”

“What's going on? Tell me.”

What the hell did he say?
Hey, I got these pretty, new, deadly weapons attached to my hands. Come in and let's play.

God, she smelled amazing. He wanted to push his nose into her neck and draw in her scent. He wanted to put his mouth on her neck and lick her skin. And then tear into her.

“You've got to stay away from me, Lucy. Just stay out there.”

“Brandon. I'm going to open the door. Step away, okay?”

“
No
. You can't—I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't. I know you won't. Brandon, I'm going to open the door.”

It hit him then. The sound of her voice acted like a stream of ice directed at that fury in his blood. He latched onto that feeling, struggled to contain the heat and the anger.

The door cracked open, just a few inches. Enough to let him get a bigger taste of her smell.

Then Lucy began to slip through the crack and he knew, in that split second, that he wasn't going to be able to stop himself.

He grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her all the way into the room. She gasped and the sound hit him like a sucker punch deep in his libido. The growl that erupted from his throat scared the shit out of him. He sounded like an animal. Hell, he felt like an animal. One that couldn't control his urges.

Instinct demanded he push her against the door and flatten his body against hers. He didn't want her to be able to get away.

Leaning down, he shoved his face in her neck, drawing in her scent. He smelled no fear, though how he knew that, he didn't have a clue. But, holy God, he knew he smelled her arousal. Spicy hot and so fucking—

He grabbed her shoulders and held her immobile. She didn't try to move, as if she knew he wouldn't let her. She merely stared up at him with those beautiful pale gray eyes and breathed.

He felt her breath brush against his skin, making every hair on his body stand on end, and his cock pulsed and thickened as blood pumped it into an erection.

“Lucy.”

He shook as he tried not to do what his body was urging him to do. Which was shred her jeans with his claws, lift her against the wall, and fuck her brains out. Just thinking about it made him burn.

“Brandon. Go ahead. Just do it.”

He shook his head. She didn't mean it. She couldn't mean it. Struggling against the need to bite her, he settled for a lick instead. His tongue slicked its way up her neck to her chin.

As her taste exploded on his tongue, he knew it wouldn't be enough. And when she drew in a deep breath that sounded more like a gasp, he knew he'd just lost the fight.

His hands shot to her hips as his mouth opened over the soft skin on her neck. He tried to remember not to hurt her with his claws… Jesus, he had freakin' claws.

But he got lost in her taste and her smell. His entire body had focused on her, and he couldn't stop.

He sucked on the skin of her neck as she tilted her head to the side to give him more access.

With his heart racing and his blood pounding in his veins, he bit her, hard. Not enough to break the skin. Just enough to leave a mark. To make sure everyone knew she was his.

She cried out but he heard desire in her voice, not alarm or pain. As her arms circled his shoulders, she pressed closer, her hips angling forward, seeking out his erection.

Naked. He wanted her naked. He reached for the button on her jeans, barely noticing that his claws were gone. Maybe they'd never been there. Maybe he'd only imagined them. At the moment, he couldn't have cared less. He wanted her. Needed her.

He shoved her jeans down to her knees as she kicked off her shoes. She'd been wearing red sneakers and they hit the ground with a soft thud, allowing her jeans to slide to the floor. The tiny pair of black bikini underwear gave way with barely a breath of sound, leaving her naked. Christ, he could smell how much she wanted him, see the evidence on her pussy lips, wet and slick.

He dropped to his knees, lifted her left leg over his shoulder, and covered her clit with his mouth. No build up, no foreplay. Just full-out attack.

Her head made an audible thud against the wall as it fell back, her hands reaching for his head. Her fingers grabbed at the short strands of his hair, tried to find purchase but couldn't.

So she cupped the back of his head and tried to force him even closer.

Wet and hot, she tasted so damn good he would've been content to eat her out all night. He sucked on her clit ruthlessly, never stopping for breath until he felt her body shudder on the edge of orgasm. Then he shifted his focus to lick at the seam of her sex, lapping at her flowing juices before working his tongue into the tight confines of her sheath.

Her short cry of frustration made him growl in satisfaction. She'd come on his command. He fucked her with his tongue until he'd worked her up again then drew back to bathe her stomach with his kisses. Her moisture covered his face and he felt like a glutton, but he couldn't stop.

His cock fucking throbbed, aching and hard. Each of her ragged breaths drew him closer to that edge where he came completely undone and rutted on her like an animal.

No, he needed to hold onto some semblance of control. But her smooth skin and her breathless cries made it impossible.

Letting her leg slide off his shoulder, he stood. Grabbing her hips, he lifted, her back sliding up the wall until he had her exactly where he wanted her.

The perfect height to—

She leaned her hips forward, the wet lips of her sex brushing against the sensitive head of his cock. Electric sensation shivered and danced along the shaft, making him grit his teeth against the need to shove into her until she begged him for mercy.

He wanted her to scream his name, needed to hear her voice as he took her. But first…

The head of his cock breached her, just enough to lodge in place as her pussy clenched. Tight. So fucking tight.

Yes, she was wet, but she was just as aroused as he was and her pussy would be tight as a fist.

Goddamn, that's what he wanted. Wanted to feel her squeezing him, caressing him. Now. He thrust hard, sank deep even as her body practically fought against the invasion. But when he breached her, she sucked him in as if she wouldn't let go.