The Darkest Secret. Gena Showalter
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voice penetrated her thoughts, then forced her suspicions to the back of her mind. Scaring a man in this condition wouldn’t be wise. Or maybe he already knew, but didn’t know how to tell her. Did he fear she would turn away from him if she learned of his possession?
Haidee, he repeated.
“Sorry. My mind wandered. Twice.” She slid closer to him, not stopping until her hip met his.
He grimaced as he pulled himself into a sitting position. This close, she could feel the heat of his skin. So much heat she’d never encountered its like. Another difference. He’d never been this warm before. Otherwise, she would have finally given in and slept with him, even without the sizzle; she wouldn’t have been able to help herself. Nothing was more delicious than the sweet burn of him.
Haidee, he snapped again.
Again she blinked into focus. She had to stop traveling these unwanted mental paths. “Sorry. What do you need, baby?”
To touch you. He managed to raise his hands on his own this time and cup her temples.
More of his heat enveloped her, his skin like a live wire against hers. She shivered and leaned into his grip, practically purring. Surprise flashed through his eyes—eyes now flickering with sparks of red. Oh, yes, she thought, hopes plummeting completely. He had been possessed. He knew. And he hadn’t expected her to desire him.
Poor darling. As if she would ever betray him. He couldn’t help what had happened, and she wouldn’t reject him for it. Besides, her war with the Lords had never been about their demons, but about their actions.
Micah hadn’t infected her. He hadn’t killed her family.
Blood, a river between her mother and her father. Both helpless … dead.
She shook off the memory before it could tug her into a pit of despair.
“If they did something to you, something … evil, I’ll help you through it,” she told him gently, flattening her hands over his. Touching him was definitely a need. “I won’t turn you in to Galen or Stefano. I won’t betray you. No matter what. And if you start to … do things, bad things—” like lashing out, killing indiscriminately “—well, I’ll take care of you myself.” Mercifully. And only after she’d done everything in her power to purge him of the demon.
She’d loathe herself, would probably replay the act again and again with every new lifetime she experienced, but she would do whatever was necessary to save innocent families from the blood-fate hers had received. Even destroy herself and the only source of her happiness.
“Do you understand what I’m telling you?” she asked gently.
Again surprise flashed in his eyes, adding tiny pinpricks of amber light to the dark irises. Thankfully, the red was gone. Something evil. Like.?
Another shiver danced through her. She was coming to love the times his voice drifted through her mind, as warm as his body. “A … demon possession.”
He tensed. Tell me everything. How you got here. What your purpose is.
At least he hadn’t flung her away for guessing the truth. Nor did he seem afraid of her. Good. “Okay.” She lowered his hands to her lap, clutching them tightly. He didn’t protest. “The demon of Defeat, the one hosted by the Lord named Strider—I don’t know if you remember him from the pictures we’ve seen?” Micah merely blinked at her.
She continued. “He was in Rome. He had the Cloak of Invisibility. We spotted him, chased him. He managed to capture me.” Bitterness seeped into her tone. She’d been such an easy mark. “I think he meant to kill me, but for whatever reason, changed his mind. A few times, I even caught him looking at me like … you know, like he wanted me, but that can’t be right. He detests me. Anyway, he brought me here. Put me in the room next door to you. I heard you calling and basically clawed my way through the wall to reach you.”
He offered no reply, but his expression was tense.
How long had he been here? she wondered as guilt torched her insides. She should have fought Strider harder. Should have escaped and found Micah before he’d been beaten. He suffered now because of her.
She’d never be able to make it up to him, but God, did she want to try. “Micah?” Gaze never leaving his beautiful, savaged face, she scooted even closer to him. She placed their twined hands on his waist as she leaned in … closer still … and softly, gently, pressed their lips together. “I’m so sorry you’re here. I’m so sorry for everything that was done to you.”
At first, he gave no reaction. Not to her words and not to her kiss. He still didn’t reply. Didn’t flinch from pain or encourage her to deepen the contact, either. Then he stiffened, his fingers squeezing at hers. Then he inhaled deeply, as if he couldn’t get enough of her scent. Then he canted his head and opened his mouth. Not just welcoming her, but encouraging her.
Moaning, she slipped her tongue past his lips, past his teeth, and jerked at the sudden bolt of arousal that speared her. His taste was minty from the wash, but spiced with a dark drug, luring, tempting … demanding a response. A response she couldn’t deny. Her breath grew shallow, her nipples pearled and every cell in her body smoldered with the sweetest kind of fire. More, she thought.
His tongue met hers, rolled and coiled, danced and sparred, the heat spreading, intensifying. And then he was moaning, pressing more fully, thrusting his tongue as if their mouths were having sex.
She’d kissed him a few times before and had been disappointed in each of the experiences. This time, there was no disappointment. There was shattering excitement, sultry danger and heady bliss. Her fingers moved of their own accord, up, up, tangling in his hair. Soft, silky hair, the strands baby fine.
More, he said this time, the single word a growl inside her head.
“Oh, yes.” More. She never wanted this to end. She had a mind filled with bad memories, yet as she swallowed his exotic flavor, she was swept away by him, the past forgotten, the present a thrill and the future something to anticipate. So good. “I don’t want to hurt you. Don’t let me hurt you.”
Stopping’s the only thing that will hurt me. The kiss must have caused an adrenaline reaction in him, something, because the next thing she knew, he had enough strength to heft her up, forcing her to straddle his lap.
His erection pressed against her needy core, hard and thick, and she gasped. Good? No longer an adequate word. The earth freaking moved. Unable to help herself, she rubbed against him, arching forward and back. Each time she hit him, each time they connected, she released a groan of need. Nerve endings did the sizzling thing, pleasure rushing through her in heated waves.
More.
“Please.” Her voice was little more than a needy whimper.
One of his hands dove past the waist of her pants and cupped her ass. Skin-to-skin, a white-hot brand of possession. His other hand rode up her spine and latched onto the back of her neck. In the next instant, he spun her, basically tossing her on top of the mattress and looming over her, his weight smashing into her.
The kiss never even paused. Over and over his tongue worked hers, feeding her the ecstasy she needed but also making her ache. Didn’t help when his hips began a slow grind against her clitoris, that hand on her ass forcing her to rise up and meet him, to slide up and down his shaft. The friction burned, burned so damned sweetly. She’d never experienced anything like this.
We shouldn’t be doing this.
For her, it was too late to care about their surroundings, the danger. “I need you.”
Yes.
She would have laughed at how easily he’d been convinced to continue, but at the moment she cared about only one thing. Climax. Her nails scoured his back, probably drawing blood. She tried to temper her reaction, to calm before she erupted, went wild and injured him further,