Losing It: A Collection of VCards (9 page)

“Then have me, Wes. Right now,” I whispered.

He settled himself between my legs and pushed gently until first my thighs and then all of me was completely open to him. Pleasure turned to pain and back to pleasure again as he slid into me. We began to move together, hips arching toward hips in a dance I understood on an instinctual level. My hands scraped along the smooth skin of his back and shoulders. His fingertips roamed and caressed every inch of me he wasn’t sliding against.

A moan escaped me and Wes pulled back, staring down at me in concern.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“No, you…” I struggled to find words through the joy. “You healed me,” I whispered, shoving the words out around the tears.

He smiled, slow and languid, and when he came into me again, all that was left was pleasure, each stroke building and building toward something I couldn’t quite grasp until suddenly I was shoved over the edge and into the blissful wide open.

“Wes, I…” and then I couldn’t speak as blissful sensation rushed in and out of me.

“Tara,” Wes said, and then with a final stroke he went taut and his body shuddered wildly. Wave after wave crashed until finally, his shoulders sagged, and my muscles puddled. We sank into a cuddled heap together against the sheets, both of us breathless and deliciously sated.

“Is it possible to be full and empty at the same time?” Wes asked a moment later.

I grinned, but it faded too quickly as I caught the edges of my own reality tugging at me.

“What is it?” he asked, immediately sitting up with knitted brows and pinched eyes.

“I think … I am being pulled back,” I said.

“Already? But how? You can’t.” He shook his head and the hair on my arms stood up as the scent of his panic hit me. He smelled like wolf.

My muscles coiled, ready to jump out of his way if he shifted. But he wrapped his hand around my waist and pulled me close. “Don’t go,” he said, looking down at me with a desperate expression.

“I don’t think I have a choice,” I said. “It’s like a dream or something. But not my own. A mind trick. They’ve been doing experiments on me. Giving me drugs. I hallucinate sometimes and I can’t … I can’t always tell what’s real anymore.” The words came faster and faster as I rushed to tell him anything that would help him find me.

“Wait, tell me where you are. What you see. Something to help us find you.”

“I don’t know where I am.” My voice broke under the frustration. And then I realized who else would want answers from me after tonight’s little magical road trip. “Gordon. He’ll know. He’ll use the drugs to make me tell him what happened.” I looked around wildly at the studio apartment. Some of the fog had cleared and I could make out a pane of glass with a city skyline view draped in shadows in the distance.

“Tara, calm down. You don’t know enough to—”

“But I do, don’t you see?” I pressed my palm to his chest and scooted backward until I could sit up. I couldn’t even be concerned with the fact that I was naked and sitting in a hardly flattering position. My panic covered even that sort of embarrassment. “He might’ve orchestrated this whole thing. I don’t know how real it is but—” I squeezed my eyes shut and when I opened them again, the studio apartment was still there. Wes was still staring at me with wide, worried eyes.

“Tara—”

“You can’t let me take this back with me,” I said, hurting at the truth of what I was saying even as I spoke the words. “It’s too dangerous to know where you are. You have to make me forget.”

Something prickled at the edges of my mind. Something was calling me back—and soon.

“You want me to take away your memory of what just happened?” he asked. “All of it?”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, hating that it had to be this way.

Wes stared at me and I cringed, waiting for his horror to give way to something uglier like anger or disgust, but in the end, he only nodded and hung his head. “You’re right. It’s safer if you don’t remember.”

And somehow, his agreement made it worse. A tear slipped down my cheek. Wes looked up and flicked his finger out, catching it before it could fall off my chin. “There will be other times,” he said.

I nodded sadly.

Another tear fell. Wes caught it too and then cupped my cheek with his palm. I knew he had to touch me in order to make his memory-erasing talent work. He’d done it to me only once before, the night we’d first met. There was irony buried there but I was too heartbroken to name it. I knew from experience, even if he returned my memories later, this special night would never feel the same in my thoughts.

Wes hesitated and I felt the claws of my imprisoned reality tugging harder.

“Hurry, Wes,” I urged.

He pressed his lips together and nodded. “I’ll never stop looking for you,” he said.

In a fast dip, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine in a hard kiss. The glowing white fog became darkness as my eyelids slid closed. At once, the apartment felt vast and empty and just … nowhere. The pressure of Wes’s lips on mine suddenly vanished. I was being pulled back. 

I tried uselessly to fight it but the exertion, after everything else that’d just happened, was too much. My strength flagged, my muscles gave out. And then the claws grabbed hold and, with a final, piercing yank on my subconscious, everything disappeared…

I woke alone in my cell, my skin chilled. Absently, I rubbed at my arms until my improved circulation provided some semblance of body warmth. For a reason I couldn’t name, I was breathless.

If I’d had another nightmare, thankfully I couldn’t remember it now.

About the Author

Heather Hildenbrand was born and raised in a small town in northern Virginia where she was homeschooled through high school. (She’s only slightly socially awkward as a result.) Since 2011, she’s published more than ten YA & NA novels including the bestselling Dirty Blood series.

She splits her time between coastal Virginia and the island of Guam and loves having a mobile career and outrageous lifestyle of living in two places. Her most frequent hobbies are riding motorcycles and avoiding killer slugs.

Heather is also a publishing and success coach bent on equipping and educating artists who call themselves authors. She loves teaching fellow writers how to create the same freedom-based lifestyle she enjoys. For more information visit
www.phoenixauthorink.com
and find out how to create your own Outrageous Life.

She is represented by Rebecca Friedman. You can find out more about Heather and her books at
www.heatherhildenbrand.com
.

Or find her here:

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Other titles by Heather include:

Imitation
&
Deviation

A Risk Worth Taking

Across the Galaxy

Whisper

Dirty Blood series

Eternally Free

An extended scene from The Eternal

by Helen Boswell

Torn apart by the Fates but reunited by sheer will, Hope Gentry and Micah Condie are supernatural entities fighting for a place in our world. This is an exclusive epilogue scene from book 3 in the Mythology series. Mythology and Mythology: The Wicked are now available, the third and final installment of the YA series (Mythology: The Eternal) releasing early spring 2015. The urban fantasy/paranormal romance series is currently optioned out for TV/movie production by Off the Grid Entertainment (Eric Balfour/Stephanie Varella).

***

~  Hope  ~

Maybe it’s the effect of the full moon, but Micah exudes this sort of brightness tonight. It’s something I’ve missed seeing in the darkness of our most recent days, and I’m glad that I catch it as he walks me to my car.

The dinner we just had with the alliance had been chaotic and crazy, but the group was so full of obvious camaraderie that I loved every second of it. It reminded me of the first time Micah took me home to meet his adoptive family, and I wonder if he’s thinking about them too. He’s quieter than he’s been all night, and I know he has to miss his family more than he’s showing.

Micah lets go of my hand when we get to the car, and I stare up at him, my heart hurting a little as he smiles down at me. The guys had been talking in pretty vague terms tonight – deliberately so – but I did pick up on the fact that they have a lot of work to do. Still, I don’t want to have to say goodnight to Micah yet.

“I can drive myself home if you need to stay,” I offer.

He shakes his head and opens the passenger side door for me. “It’s okay. I’ll come back later. Let me drive you home, Hope.”

“Okay.” The sense of relief floods me, making me feel a little weak in the knees as I get into the car. Not that
I’m
weak. I didn’t fall apart when Micah left the city, and I didn’t pine away for him when I didn’t hear from him for months. But I also think I deserve to be a little greedy now that he’s back, and I want him just for another few hours or so. Or maybe even the rest of the night.

Micah’s hand rests on my knee, my fingers laced with his, but we don’t say much on the way to my house. Though it was fun to be part of the chaos tonight, I close my eyes now. Revel in the quiet. Savor the rough feel of Micah’s thumb as he rubs the tender part of my inner palm, loving how close I feel to him right now because he invited me into the alliance. Ever since he returned, he’s had these new invisible walls in place, and it hurts. But tonight he brought down every last bit of his guard, and it’s like he just shared with me his entire world.

I hope he knows how grateful I am that he let me back in, and I wish I could show him how much it means to me. We have to stop at a red light, and I stare at his profile – at his strong jaw held a little too tightly, at the slight frown etched in his brow. He turns to me in surprise as I unbuckle my seat belt, and I lean over to kiss him on the cheek but our lips touch instead.
His hand cups my cheek, his kiss slowly becoming deeper, hungrier. I climb half onto his seat, my fingers tangling through his blond hair as I try to get closer. Little shocks of electricity burst through me as his fingertips trace the line of my neck, as they move lower still to barely brush against my breasts.

"Hope," he groans against my lips.

A car honks from behind us, and I settle back into my seat, reluctantly. I lace my fingers with his again, my insides feeling warm as his dark blue gaze lingers on me.

The car honks at us again, and he shoots me a lopsided grin before turning his attention back to the road. “What did I do to earn that kiss?"

"You took me to meet your entire demon family," I say back. "I guess I was just trying to say thank you. I hope they liked me."

He glances at me as he takes the turn into my neighborhood. "Of course I'd want you to meet them. And they loved you. How could they not love you?"

I can think of a few reasons off the top of my head, but I feel my cheeks flush at his statement for some reason. I hit the garage door button when he turns onto my street, trying to keep realistic expectations as he pulls the car into the garage. Micah will probably fly back to the group right now. But as I stare at the door leading into my house, all I can think about is how happy I am that he’s back. How close I feel to him after everything that we’ve been through, both bad and good. And about the fact that Davis’ car isn’t here, which means we have the entire house to ourselves.

Micah reaches over for my hand again after killing the engine, and when I look at him, he’s already looking at me, his expression very serious. He lifts my hand and kisses it, his lips warm and soft as they press against my skin, and the heat in my cheeks radiates all the way down to my core. A sense of anticipation buzzes like electricity between us, my need to ask him to stay the night with me transforming into an ache.

At the same time, the logical part of me fires up, thinking about all of the things he probably needs to still do tonight. He should get back to the alliance, and I should be happy that I got to spend as much time with him as I did. But I tell that part of me to shut up for now. My emotions need to win this round, and for once I’m going to let them.

“Do you want to come in?

He smiles a little. “Do you even have to ask?”

My heart may not beat anymore, but it feels like my chest is humming as I take his hand and lead him to my room. Micah approaches me as I close and lock my bedroom door, trailing his fingers along my neck to pull my hair back over my shoulders. Before I can turn around, his mouth follows the same path, kissing me gently on the curve of my neck, his hands stroking my shoulders, his touch sending warm shivers down my arms. He takes my hands and braces my palms against the door, holding me there, his lips brushing over my skin as he works up to my ear. I feel like I might melt under the warmth of his tongue, and my eyes flutter shut and my mouth opens as I burn for more.

I hear a moan and realize that it just came from me.

He takes a step back from the door, his arms around me and bringing me with him, his cheek pressing against mine. His body moves close to envelop me, his scent surrounding me like a summer rain.

We stand just like that for what feels like forever, with my back pressed up against his hard chest and his arms holding me close. He keeps planting kisses along my neck, my jaw, my earlobe, and back again. Little sparks shoot through me as his fingers travel along the line of my collarbone and then lower…lower to unbutton the top button of my blouse.

I try to remember to breathe as he undoes the next button. And then the next, slowly, so slowly like he’s savoring every second of undressing me. His fingertips trace a feather-light path to the next button, leaving tremors in their wake that’ll surely shatter me to pieces. I resist the urge to just tear through the remaining buttons, to take his hands and press his palms against my skin so I can really feel him. But he continues to hold me captive in his embrace as he slowly slides my shirt off my shoulders. His lips press against my bare shoulder blades as his fingers slip under the straps of my bra to draw them part of the way down. Finally, finally, he peels off my shirt the whole way, the fabric hitting my floor like a loud whisper.

I turn to around to face him, my hand lifting to touch his cheek, a tiny part of me not quite daring to believe that he’s actually here. His hands circle my waist, and I slide my hands under his shirt and up against his hard abs, finally getting to savor the feel of him. My breath comes quicker, my own heat rising to match his as I push his shirt up. I press my hands against the muscles of his chest, feeling his heartbeat, strong and rhythmic and beating for both of us, before I pull his shirt up and off the rest of the way.

He leans down and touches his forehead to mine, his eyes closed and his warmth radiating out from him and into me.

“Hope,” he murmurs. “You heard what they said tonight. You and I are the same. I don’t think we need to worry anymore about….” He hesitates, but there’s no uncertainty in his tone.

I breathe out, finishing his unspoken thought. “…dying. I know,” I say with just as much certainty.

His smile comes out of nowhere, and when he looks at me, I catch myself searching for signs of darkness like I used to, when he used to constantly battle the hunger of his
deimos
. I can tell it’s still there, but Micah’s
different
than he used to be, and I’m different than I used to be too.

“I love you,” I say. “Every part of you.”

The expression in his eyes is already soft, but it grows even more so after I say this. I feel like I do when I use my powers to run as fast as I can through the crowded city streets or to sprint over the surface of water – sure of myself, but a little reckless too. Because we’re going to have sex, because we’re breaking the rules. Because I’ve already taken so many chances with everything – my life included – and this is the person I love most. I thought I’d be more nervous when this time finally came, but I’m not because this is Micah. The boy that I love and who shares part of my soul.

I might as well be flying with him when he encloses me in strong arms again and lifts me up. He walks with me toward my bed, lying me down on top of my covers and lowering himself so his body is next to mine. His kiss is sweet and wanting, and it ignites my growing heat into something that burns so much deeper. The fiercest craving. Not just for Micah in a physical sense, but for both of us to finally be released from all of those terrible forces from our past that kept us apart.

He kisses both of my eyelids, and then the tip of his tongue grazes my earlobe before he nips at it. My breath stills as he shifts further down and presses his lips against the hollow of my neck. He dances kisses over the swell of my breasts, and I arch my back and reach under with one hand, unsnapping my bra. He stops what he’s doing and watches me as I take it off the entire way, as I slide my hands down my body and slowly push off my skirt so I’m in nothing but my underwear.

I reach up and run my hand through his hair
, positive that I must be blushing all over. Especially when his gaze locks with mine and I see the look in his eyes. So loving, so full of desire, his whole soul bared, just for me.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs.

“No. That would be you.”

He shakes his head, his hand stroking the curve of my hip. His fingertips stop right at the lace edge of my underwear, leaving the rest of my skin burning for his touch. He breathes, “No, Hope. I’m only a fraction of the beauty that you are.”

My fingers knot in his hair as he lowers his head, my breath stolen from me as he kisses my breast. He knows exactly what to do with his mouth, and with his hand too as he strokes my legs and coaxes them apart. He’s already driving me crazy, and I have the craziest thought to match.

If only we were actually immortal, this would never end.

He inches his body down mine and kisses me right above my navel, his mouth tracing a path of heat lower as his hand edges up my leg with maddening slowness. I grip his hair with one hand and run my nails over his back with the other, loving the sound of his groan.

I struggle to get air as he so, so carefully slides down my underwear.  His touch is gentle and knowing as he caresses my inner thigh, and I feel my restlessness build as he shifts his body between my legs.  We’ve never gone this far before, but I’m not self-conscious anymore. I let the thought settle over me like comfort and need and wanting all at once, and it feels so good, so right and perfect. He lowers his head over me, and that perfect feeling becomes a million times more intense as his tongue flicks against me. He does it again, sending a ripple of pleasure through me so hot that I cry out, and he doesn’t stop until I’m about to go over the edge. But then he pulls back, letting me hover on the brink of ecstasy.

I might die all over again. And again as I watch him get off the bed, my whole body aching for him to come back.