Insatiable Craving: 2 (Insatiable Nights) (14 page)

From the admittedly little he knew about Ginny, nothing screamed she was the sort of girl to check her heart at the table and tumble into bed with just anyone. Her own account of her sexual experience confirmed the fact, but did little to explain why she’d chosen and continued to choose him. And why she claimed she didn’t want anything else.

The same reason he didn’t, only with very different motivators.

Getting close to someone allowed them access to a piece of the self that was very hard to patch together after a betrayal. Aside from the guilt he’d suffered after Natalie’s death, it had taken him months to reconcile himself to the fact that the girl he’d known and thought he’d loved had been a stranger. Had been using him, stringing him along just so she could add his pelt to her trophy room. Why Natalie had selected this route rather than the more up-front ask-questions-later routine with which Razor had been brought up had never been answered, but she’d made herself perfectly clear the night she died.

She’d fucked him so she could kill him. Maybe she’d done it to prove she could—that she was willing to do anything to eradicate the enemy she’d created in her head.

Ginny might not have been betrayed in such a radical way by someone she trusted, but she had been betrayed.

The understanding—the possibility of harm or injury—had rattled him enough that morning. Razor had no idea how long he’d stared at that wall before turning around. Every time he wanted to try, a new wave of rage had washed over his body, rendering him unable to move without the fear of losing the tentative grip he held on his wolf’s leash. That primal stirring Ginny’s mere acquaintance invoked had been introduced to a possessive, innate need to rip apart whoever had dared hurt her, no matter how many years had passed.

She didn’t want to answer his questions about whatever had happened—fine. He wasn’t ready to confess his sins either. But this assumption that sex was all he wanted, all he
should
want based on some notion that all men were happy so long as their dicks got attention was more than just bullshit—it was downright offensive.

If she wanted to dodge the issue, she was welcome to try.

“My ex,” he said shortly, “was a wolf hunter.”

Ginny frowned. “A wolf hunter?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay, strange, but I grew up in the Ozarks. Anything with four legs was fair game.” She shrugged. “I guess I could see that.”

Razor shook his head. “Not that kind of wolf. She specialized in hunting weres.”

“Weres? As in…
werewolves?”
She blinked at him for a few seconds, then snorted a laugh and rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. I guess you don’t want to talk about it either.”

“I am talking about it.”

“Yeah. Your ex-girlfriend hunted werewolves and she gave you that scar because…” She looked at him a moment longer. “I guess I could see it. You do have those dark eyes. Look almost predatory.”

“Thanks, but I was born with these.”

“Not born a werewolf, then?”

“No. I was turned. Back when
I
was a hunter.”

“Oh, this is getting good!” Another strained laugh touched the air. “If she happened to be your long-lost sister too, I might be able to get the whole story published in my father’s magazine. Did you identify each other from identical family-crest tattoos?”

Razor ignored her, instead focusing on the one point of interest she’d mentioned. “Your father?”

“Oh yeah. Holland Higgins. He runs a local tabloid in Highfield, Missouri, that aches for this kind of bullshit.” Ginny crossed her arms, looking decidedly unimpressed with him at the moment. “So I opt not to bare my soul to you and you get me back by feeding me garbage.”

“Who says it’s garbage?”

“I do.”

“And on what authority?”

“On the authority of I’m not an idiot and werewolves don’t exist. Unless you’re
crazy hot
in the literal sense. And this makes Aria…lemme guess…a vampire slayer?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Aria couldn’t slay a spider, even though they scare the piss outta her.” He inhaled deeply, and just for the sake of seeing her reaction, made another advance toward the truth. “Aria’s a witch.”

Ginny just stared at him. “A witch.”

“And the amulet she keeps around her neck is the trapped essence of Draken, God of Thunder.”

“I thought Thor was the God of Thunder.”

“Same job, different religions. The world is a lot more complicated than you’d think.”

For a moment he wasn’t sure if Ginny was going to scream at him, toss hot coffee in his face, burst into tears or drag him back to her bed. Perhaps that was enough truth for the day. Despite the fact she was visibly frustrated, none of her body language betrayed a desire to kick him out of her apartment, though she couldn’t if she tried. Now that he was here, he wasn’t going anywhere. Especially not until they came to an understanding.

In the end, she surprised him. “You’re either the least funny person in the world or really fucked in the head.”

“Is there a reason it can’t be both?”

Ginny just stared at him, though he didn’t miss the way her lip twitched.

Perhaps it was better to leave things where they were for the moment. If Razor got his way, Ginny would find out the truth soon enough. At least then she couldn’t claim he didn’t try to warn her. She officially knew—like it or not—as much about him as he’d ever told anyone who didn’t already have an ear to the ground.

And if she wouldn’t talk about the thing he most wanted to know, and likewise wouldn’t discuss the possibility of more than just sex between them, he’d pursue any other line she fed him—knowing or otherwise.

“Your father owns a tabloid, huh?”

Ginny kept looking at him, her gaze probing as though to determine his seriousness. After a moment, she looked away again and nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “That’s his legacy. Scaring the people of Highfield with stories of the boogeyman.”

“I take it you’re a skeptic.”

“If you’re asking whether or not I believe you’re a werewolf, I’m going to have to say
no
.
I have too much respect for logic.”

Razor nodded. “So not much chance of you taking over the family business, then.”

“My father and I don’t speak, so I’d call my firm grasp on reality the last of the long list of reasons I would not be taking over the business.”

“Why don’t you speak?”

“You’re just rolling out the annoying questions today.”

“It’s what I do best.”

“I disagree.” She aimed a pointed look at his cock, which stirred under her scrutiny. Razor clamped his jaw and fought the urge to pour the rest of his coffee down his pants. The last thing he wanted right now was for her to distract him with her soft, feminine curves.

He wanted her trust along with her body. He wanted
her
.

Impossible as that was. From a face in the crowd to someone he knew he wanted to love. Someone he wanted to get close enough to love, if only because she’d given him back such a large piece of himself.

Do you?

Razor shook his head.

You don’t know her.

No, perhaps not…but he knew enough. He didn’t have to be anything other than attentive to glean she had intimacy issues. The fact he shared them should have made him more understanding, but all it did was urge him to tear her wall down.

“No,” he snapped, harsher than he meant.

Ginny’s head whipped up. “What?”

“We’re not doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“You’re not distracting me. We agreed we needed to talk.”

She shrugged. “By my count, we’ve done a lot of talking. Can’t we go back to fucking?”

“No.” He reached around her and placed his mug on the cabinet. “I want more than that.”

“I don’t have more to give.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t accept that.”

Fire reared behind her gorgeous, vibrant eyes. “Like I give a shit! There’s the door, wolf-boy. I’m offering you my body—nothing else. You can fucking take it or leave it.”

Oh, he wanted to take it. Right then there was nothing he’d like more than to seize her by the arms, throw her on the ground and lose himself inside that hot cunt of hers. But goddammit, he was made of tougher shit than that.

And she was too. No matter what she wanted him to think, no matter how desperately she tried to hide behind sex, no matter anything, she wouldn’t be fighting so desperately if she didn’t feel she had something to lose.

The same thing he had to lose, even if she didn’t believe it.

And Razor knew for all her posturing, she was bluffing. She was too wound up, shaking too hard, her eyes too wide and expressive. She danced so near the point of no return, her defenses flaring and the claws coming out. If he called her bluff and walked out the door, it wouldn’t be long before she followed.

But he wouldn’t leave. Not now. They were so close to something big.

Instead, he braced himself with a deep breath and stepped forward. “You don’t want me to leave,” he said.

Ginny pointed her chin up. “Try me.”

“You’re trying to prove to yourself that’s what
I
want. I walk and that’s all you need, isn’t it? Everything you’ve told yourself about men reinforced, and you go on living in your bubble thinking you’ve made some grand point. That in the end, I was in it just for the sex. ”Another step. “But you’re not throwing me out, Ginny. You invited me to leave but you didn’t demand it.”

She snorted but looked away. “Whatever you have to tell yourself. I don’t get lost in semantics. I say what I mean.”

“Do you actually believe that?” Razor took another step forward. “I’m not
him
.”

That earned a response. Ginny’s head snapped forward, her gaze locking with his. “What?” she snapped. “What is it you think you know?”

“You really think you’re hiding it, don’t you? Whatever he did—all that pain. You think you have it stuffed down somewhere no one can see or touch.”

“Get out.”

Razor shook his head once. Another bluff. “You don’t want me to leave.”

“Did you not hear me or was I not
clear enough
that time? You need it in writing? Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

He suppressed a small smile. “So I’m wrong then.”

“I told you—”

“I heard. You don’t want to talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about!”

He inclined his head. “There was earlier. You asked if we could wait.”

“Yes, and thank you so much for respecting my wishes. Some gentleman.”

“I’d respect your wishes if you weren’t using it as an excuse. You’re not the kind of girl to throw herself at strange men, Ginny.”

Her brilliant eyes flared. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“I know if I wasn’t right it wouldn’t bug you this much.”

“It’s a little crazy how full of shit you are.” Ginny blinked, a swelling of tears stinging the corner of her eyes. He knew he was close then. Close to getting past the first wall surrounding her heart—close to getting her to break.

The girl before him had stood strong as long as she could, fought her inner rage as long as she could. Perhaps standing up to him was what she needed, or just seeing something in him she hadn’t seen in others, or had pushed away before she could get a close enough look.

“Yet I’m still standing here.”

“Because you won’t leave!”

“Why don’t you make me?”

From the look in her eyes, he saw she didn’t mean to do what she did—didn’t even realize she was doing it until it was over. Until the smack of her first striking his chest echoed hollowly through the air. It was a potent blow—strong enough to make him rock back on his heels but not enough to threaten his balance. Ginny’s eyes widened, and for a wild moment she looked dangerously close to that line separating release from temporary insanity.

Perhaps that was what she needed.

It wouldn’t be just one blow—he knew that too. Almost immediately, she struck him again. Then again and again, her hits going from hard and spiteful to sloppy and desperate. Every smack against his chest was punctuated with a strangled gasp, growing tighter and more frantic until the air around her broke and her grunts dissolved into sobs.

They sank as one to the ground, Razor’s arms closing around Ginny’s soft form. He braced himself on his knees and encouraged her head to his shoulder. She warmed into him like melting wax, her hands linking around his neck, her breath hot against his skin, her body trembling with the onslaught that attacked in waves. It was an emotional upheaval too long in the making—more than the roller coaster she’d ridden the past few days, he knew, and likely much more than even he could appreciate right now. Everything for her had changed.

He saw in her what had been in himself after Natalie’s death. Only Ginny hadn’t had an Aria to guide her through the rough spots or keep her connected to humanity. Whatever had happened to her, she had braved the cold alone. She had taught herself to trust only herself, and thereby how to survive. Razor very much doubted anyone had seen her cry in that time.