The Darkest Whisper (22 page)

“No.”

“I'll—I'll go back to our room. I'll—”

“You're going to stay here and fight me.”

“What?” Expression shocked, she stumbled backward. “What are you talking about? I thought you wanted me calm.”

“I do. For now.” He gripped his shirt and tugged it over his head, then dropped the material at his feet. Automatically her gaze lowered to his ribs, where the points of his tattoo stretched. “We're going to fight. You're not allowed to hurt anyone but me.”

“I'd rather study your tattoo,” she said huskily. “I didn't get a chance to trace it in the shower, and I've been dreaming of tracing it.”

Dear Lord. Talk about the ultimate come-on. Rather than pounce on her as he wanted, he forced himself to kick out a leg, slamming her ankles together and sending her hurtling to the ground. “First lesson. Distraction will get you killed.”

Air shot from her parted lips, and she gazed up at him with disbelief. Even…betrayal?

Gods. Had he really done that?
Harden your heart, asshole. Treat her like Cameo. Like her sisters. Like any other female.

She'll hate you. She'll
—

Not another word.

But
—

Silence!

“You tripped me,” she said.

“Yes.” And he'd do much, much more before they were finished. Had to be this way. He couldn't show her any mercy. Otherwise, she'd never learn. Would never be safe.

Thankfully her sisters maintained their distance and didn't try to stop him.

“Up.” He held out a hand, and she grasped it. But he didn't help her to her feet. He jerked her into his body,
rattling her brain and pinning her arms at her sides. “Second lesson. An opponent will never aid you. He might act like he wants to, but never, ever believe him.”

“Fine. Now let go.” She struggled, and he released her, letting her fall back to the ground. Immediately she popped to her feet, eyes shooting fire at him. “You're going to kill me!”

“So dramatic. Toughen up. You aren't human. Everything I dish, you can take. You know that deep down.”

“I guess we'll see,” she grumbled.

For the next hour, he worked her over. Hand to hand combat, daggers. To her credit, she didn't complain, didn't beg to stop. She did wince several times, yelp once and twice he thought she verged on tears. His chest had constricted painfully at that, and he'd found himself pulling back, not using all of his strength.

Just as Kaia had done.

Pussy
. That's what he was. A disgrace to himself and his men. He was ready to quit, something he'd never done before. Something he'd be teased about for the rest of his endless life.

All of the Lords, all of the Harpies, William, Ashlyn, Anya and Danika were now watching avidly. Some were throwing popcorn at them. Some were placing bets on who would win. William was hitting on Gwen's sisters—not literally. Gwen was shaking, her every strike tentative. She wouldn't last five minutes in a real battle.

“You aren't even close to hurting me,” he barked. “Come on. Make me work for it. I'm all over you and you're taking it. Letting me. Almost welcoming me.”

“Shut up!” Sweat dripped from her face, and her shirt was plastered to her chest. “I'm not welcoming you. I hate you.”

Everyone he'd ever trained had said that at one point
or another, but this was the first time he'd ever felt the words in his soul, burning, aching. “Then why haven't you given up? Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to learn to fight?” he demanded, easily tripping her again. He wanted her to voice her reasons for pushing herself so hard. Maybe it would motivate her. “You could be hurt. By me. By Hunters.”

She went down, but quickly jumped back up, spitting dirt. Cuts and bruises marred her from head to toe. Her jeans had been ripped to shreds from her many tumbles.

“Hunters deserve to die.” She remained in place, panting. “Besides, I've already been hurt. I survived. I healed.”

Because of his blood. It was the hottest thing he'd ever done, giving his essence to a woman. He wanted to give her more, every drop. The craving had grown with every hour that passed.

Sabin scoured a hand down his face, wiping away grime. “This isn't working.” She couldn't take much more, and he wasn't sure how much more he could dish. “We need to try something new.”

“The only thing we haven't tried is unleashing my Harpy. Then you'd be sorry. She's desperate to get her hands on you.” There was relish in her tone.

His eyes widened. Of course. “You're right. If you plan to fight Hunters,” which he wasn't sure he would allow anymore—wait, where had that thought come from?—“you'll have to learn to summon your Harpy quickly. Which means you need to summon her now and train with her.”

Every speck of color in Gwen's lovely face drained. She shook her head. “I was taunting you, trying to scare you. I wasn't serious.”

“You might want to rethink this, demon,” Bianka
called from the sidelines, tossing her black hair over her shoulder. “She hasn't learned to control her Harpy yet. Piss her off, and she might eat even you.”

He turned, giving Gwen his profile. Part of him hoped she would attack him, prove she'd been listening and go for blood the moment her opponent's attention veered. But she didn't. Too softhearted, he supposed. “And you have? Learned to control it?”

Her lips curled into a smile. “Yes. Only took me twenty years, but then, I like that part of myself and Gwen never has.”

Great. He realized in that moment that he couldn't leave Gwen when he traveled to Chicago, not even with two of her sisters guarding her. If she accidentally lost control of her Harpy, she could hurt the warriors who'd remained behind. He was the only one who seemed capable of calming her. Could he take her with him, though, and leave her somewhere while he traipsed off to war? Alone? Unprotected?

Shit. He was going to have to stay here with her.

Surprisingly, the decision brought relief rather than irritation.

“How did you finally learn?” he asked Bianka.

“Practice. Regrets.” The last was said with a hint of sadness. She'd probably killed people she cared about, even as Gwen feared doing.

He focused fully on Gwen. “Well, we're gonna have to put you on an accelerated program. So let the Harpy out. She and I are going to play.”

“No.” Violently she shook her head again, even backed away from him, palms outstretched to keep him at bay. “No way in hell.”

Very well. He popped his jaw.
This is for her own good. Do it. You have to.
A deep breath, then,
Doubt. Have at her.

Happy to finally get to work without restriction, the demon swooped on her in a single heartbeat.
He had your sister pinned to a bed yesterday. She's so pretty, so strong. I wonder if he wishes you'd never woken up. If he wishes he'd never fed you his blood to make you strong. I wonder if he's imagining Kaia in bed with him even now, all that hair spread over his thighs as she sucks him dry. Maybe that's why he's pushing you so hard—so you'll walk away from him, leaving the field wide open for your sister. Or maybe he hopes you'll be so sore, you won't protest if he decides to make another go at her. Tonight. All night.

One second Gwen was in front of him, the next she was gripping him, flying him through the air, forest buzzing past, a blur. After an eternity, his back slammed into a tree trunk, and breathing became an impossible dream.

Her teeth were bared, her claws ripping away his pants. He grabbed Gwen by the shoulders, not knowing whether to push her away or draw her closer. She was Harpy, totally and completely, her eyes a perfect night sky, hair feathered back from her wild expression.

“Gwen. We need to go back to the field.”

“Don't move,” she said, her voice high-pitched, and then her teeth were deep in his neck and he couldn't have moved to save his life. “You're mine. Mine!”

G
WEN'S MIND WAS
a whirl of activity. Most of it turbulent, dark. Last night, she'd tried to ignore Sabin's appeal because he hadn't seemed to want her. He'd slept next to her—his lemon and mint scent in her nose, his heat wafting to her, his raspy breaths ringing in her ears, her body attuned to his every movement, skin itching for a touch, a single touch, heart racing—but he hadn't made a move. Ignoring him was no longer an option.

She was becoming obsessed with him. She wanted to learn more about him. She wanted to spend every minute of every day with him. She wanted to possess him.
Will possess him
, a voice screeched in her mind. The Harpy. The one now pulling her strings, urging her to do all the naughty things she'd been fantasizing about. So what that Sabin wasn't what she'd always wanted for herself. So what that he would betray her in an instant if it meant winning his war. There was nothing wrong with enjoying the here and now. With him. If he thought to take her sisters…

She'd known the demon of Doubt had whispered those terrible things to her. She'd recognized its poisonous murmur, but had been unable to stop the flood of violence that raged through her. Sabin and Kaia—hell, no. No one touched him, including her loved ones. Might be irrational of her, but she didn't care.

Several times he'd claimed to desire only Gwen. Well, he was damn well going to prove it.

She had him pinned to a tree, and there was nothing he could do to escape. He was hers. Hers, hers,
hers
to do with as she pleased. And right now, she wanted him naked. He'd already removed his shirt on the field, so all that remained were his pants. She worked at buttons, then the zipper. In seconds, the denim was nothing more than ribbons in the warm breeze.

He wasn't wearing underwear.

“I think my briefs were stolen,” he said sheepishly, following her gaze.

His erection sprang free, long, thick, proud, and she gasped in pleasure. His testicles were heavy and drawn up tight. Sunlight poured over him, turning the bronze of his skin to a delicious gold. Today he'd pushed her around, and she'd taken it without (much) complaint. Deep down, she'd known she needed his brand of training. Never again did she want to be shot up like a turkey at Christmas. Plus, part of her really did want to defeat the men who'd abused her.
Plus,
she'd wanted to impress Sabin. He valued strength.

“Mine,” she said, wrapping her fingers around his cock. She didn't recognize her voice. It was higher, raspier. A bead of moisture coated her hand.

He arched his hips forward, forcing her hand to slide to the base of his shaft. “Yes,” he gritted out.

Her grip tightened. Her vision was a bit distorted, fuzzed to infrared, so she could see the heat pulsing from him. “Tell your demon to keep his mouth shut or I'll gut him.”

“He's been quiet since you rammed me.”

Good. She must have scared the forest animals and insects, as well, because there wasn't a chirp or footfall
to be heard. She and Sabin were completely alone, about a mile from where they'd been training. “Rip off my clothes. Now.”

Unused to taking commands, he reacted slowly to hers. She released him to do it herself, and he growled. “Put your hand back.”

The moment she did, he was tugging at her clothes, doing whatever was necessary to remove them without disrupting the connection between them. Finally, she was naked, their heated skin was touching and he was moaning.

“Beautiful.” He ran his hands down her back, paused. “Wings?”

“Problem?” Warm air caressed her, hardening her nipples, stoking the wet ache between her legs. A constant ache. One that hadn't left since that time in the shower.

“Let me see.” He spun her around. For a moment, there was nothing, no reaction, no comment; he didn't even breathe. Then he placed a soft kiss on one of the tiny, fluttering protrusions. “They're amazing.”

No man had ever seen her wings. She'd even kept them hidden from Tyson, never letting them peek from the slits in her back. They set her apart, proved how different she was. But under Sabin's gaze, she felt…proud. Shivering, she pivoted on her heel, returning to her former position. “Let's get started.”

“Sure you want to do this, Gwendolyn?” His voice was husky and thick, almost drugged.

“Can't stop me.” Nothing would stop her, actually, not even a protest from him. She was going to have him, know his taste, feel him inside her, today, now, this moment. Part of her knew she was not herself just then, but the other part of her didn't care. Once Sabin had thought
to mark her to keep his friends away from her. Now
she
was going to mark
him
.

“Sure you want it and not just your Harpy?”

He wouldn't make her feel guilty about this. “Stop talking. I'm going to have you. I don't care what you say.”

“Very well.” Her world spun, and then jagged bark was cutting into her back. Sabin kicked her ankles, shooting her legs apart. He quickly inserted a thigh, placing her clitoris right above his knee. “There'll be consequences. I hope you know that.”

“Why are you talking?” Because his erection was so thick, she hadn't been able to close her fingers around it and easily lost her grip. That pissed her off, and she snarled. “Give back.”

“No.”

“Now!”

“Soon,” he vowed, biting her earlobe. To distract her, the diabolical man? Didn't matter, it worked.

As she cried out at the exquisite sensation, he descended, claiming her mouth with his own. His tongue plunged deep, taking, giving, demanding, seeking, begging, rolling, branding every inch of her. The taste of mint hit her first, then lemons, then the flavors became a part of her, his breath hers.

Her fingers tangled in his hair and drew him closer. Their teeth scraped, and he angled, sinking deeper. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, the friction so decadent her legs were trembling. And then her legs weren't holding her up anymore—his were. She had propped herself completely on his knee, was gliding up and down, back and forth, zings of sensation rocketing through her.

“That's a tight grip,” he rasped out.

Took every ounce of humanity inside her, but she
loosened it. Disappointment filled her, and the Harpy squawked, demanding she
make
him like it.

Sabin frowned down at her. “What are you doing? It's a tight grip, but I want tighter. You're not going to break me, Gwen.” As he palmed and squeezed her ass, urging her on, he ducked his head and sucked hard on one of her nipples.

She cried out, her belly quivering, her hands back in his hair and tugging forcefully. His words…damn, they were as beautiful as a caress, freeing in a way she'd never imagined. “I love how strong you are.”

“Same here. I want everything you have to give.” He kicked at her ankles and she tumbled to the ground. Sabin followed her down, never slowing his quest to her core. When he reached it, he spread her legs as far as they would go and just looked at her.

“Touch,” she commanded.

“So pretty. So pink and wet.” His eyelids had dropped to half-mast, and he licked his lips as though he could already imagine her taste. Those dark eyes were luminous. “You've had a man?”

No reason to lie. “You know I have.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “That fucker Tyson treated you properly?”

“Yes.” How could he have done anything but, as tame as they'd been with each other? But right here, right now, she didn't want tame. As Sabin had said, she couldn't break him. Anything she gave, he could take…he wanted. Though he hadn't even entered her, her pleasure soared to a new level.

“I think I'm going to kill him,” he muttered, rolling her nipples between his fingers. “Do you still think of him?”

“No.” And she didn't want to talk about him, either. “Have you had a woman?”

“Not many, considering how old I am. But perhaps more than a human will ever have.”

At least he was honest about it. “I think I'm going to kill them.” Sadly, that was not an empty boast. Gwen had always abhorred violence, had always fled from a fight, but right now she happily could have sunk a dagger into the heart of every woman who had tasted this man. He belonged to her.

“No need,” Sabin said, ghosts in his eyes. Then he dove for her, licked the core of her and groaned, his expression flooding with pleasure.

Her back arched, her gaze shooting straight to the heavens. Sweet fire, that felt good. She reached behind her and latched on to the base of a tree, instinctively knowing she needed to hold on for the ride of her life.

“More?” he asked huskily.

“More!”

Over and over he tongued her, and then his fingers joined the play, spreading her, sinking deep. She didn't have to ask him if he liked it; he was lapping her up as if she was candy and she was arching in to every sensual glide.

“That's right,” he praised. “That's the way. I've got my cock in my hand, can't help myself, imagining it's your hand, while I've got heaven in my mouth.”

Her cries echoed through the forest, each more hoarse than the other. Almost there…so close…“Sabin. Please.” His teeth grazed her clitoris, and that was all it took. She climaxed, skin tightening, muscles jumping in joy, bones locking together.

He lapped until he'd sucked down every drop.

As she panted, Sabin flipped her over and propped her on her hands and knees. He teased her with the tip of his shaft, running it along her folds but not yet entering.

“I want to see you.”

“I don't want to hurt your wings.”

Sweet man. “Let
me
taste
you,
” she said, and he groaned. She wanted to lick his tattoo, as well. It drew her, was an aphrodisiac all on its own, yet she'd never gotten a chance to study it the way she craved.

“You taste me, and I won't be able to make love to you. I really want to make love to you. But the choice is yours.” He pressed his chest into her back, his face only an inch away from hers.

His shaft in her mouth or between her legs. Hard choice, literally. In the end, though, she opted for what she'd spent last night fantasizing about. She had to know what it was like to be his woman. Completely. Otherwise, she'd regret the lack for the rest of her life. However long or short that was. Being shot and realizing she did indeed want to help bring those Hunters down had taught her one thing: time wasn't a guarantee, even for immortals.

“Next time, then.” She reached around, clamping down on a handful of his hair and jerking his mouth to hers. His tongue plunged deep again, and this time he was flavored with her.

He positioned himself at her entrance, but just before sliding home, he stiffened. Cursed. “I don't have a condom.”

“Harpies are only fertile once a year, and this isn't it.” Another reason Chris had been willing to hold her for so long. “Inside. Now.”

In the next instant, Sabin's shaft was buried all the way to the hilt. The kiss halted as she gave another cry of pleasure. He stretched her, filled her up, touched every part of her, and it was even better than she'd dreamed.

He bit her earlobe. Still reaching around, she dug her
nails into his shoulder, felt warm blood trickle as he hissed in a breath. Hmm, the sweet smell of it drifted to her and her mouth watered. “I want—I need—”

“Anything you want is yours.” On and on he pounded inside her, forward and back, fast, hard, his testicles slapping at her.

“Want…all. Everything.” With the feel of him, she became mindless, lost, no longer Gwen or the Harpy but an extension of Sabin. “Want your blood,” she added. Only his. The thought of anyone else's left her hollow, unsatisfied.

Sabin withdrew from her completely.

A whimper escaped her. “Sabin—”

He was lying on the ground, fitting her over him, deep inside her, pumping, sliding, gliding a second later. One of her knees dug into a twig and got cut, but even that seemed to lull her into a state of utter sensation. Pleasure, pain, didn't matter. Each fed off the other and dragged her further and further into a black sea of bliss.

“Drink,” he commanded, gripping her head and forcing her mouth to his neck.

Her teeth had already sharpened. Without hesitation, she bit him. He roared, loud and long, and she sucked the warm liquid deep into her throat, her tongue dancing over his skin. Like a drug, it spread through her, the warmth becoming a sizzle, blistering, scorching her veins. Soon she was trembling, writhing against him.

“More,” she said. She wanted everything he had, every drop. Had to have it. Would—kill him, she realized, forcing herself to jerk upright. His cock slid even deeper, and she shivered. “I almost drank too much.”

“No such thing.”

“You could have—”