The Darkest Whisper. Gena Showalter
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So that she might emulate the warriors. Even as Gwen had recoiled at the thought, the Harpy had soaked up every word, ready to prove itself.
I have to escape. Can’t stay here any longer. Nothing good can come of it. Either they’ll kill me next or my Harpy will fight all the harder to be like them. She might have been better off in the hands of their dastardly enemy.
“You have to stop screaming, Gwen.”
The harsh, familiar voice penetrated the chaotic mire flooding her mind, but still the shrieks persisted.
“Shut her up, Sabin. My fucking ears are bleeding.”
“Not helping, asshole. Gwendolyn, you have to calm down or you’ll hurt us. Do you want to hurt us, darling? Do you want to kill us after we saved you, sheltered you? We might harbor demons, but we aren’t evil. I think we’ve proven that to you. Did we not treat you and the others better than your captors? Have I touched you in anger? Forced myself on you? No.”
What he said was true. But could she trust a demon? They loved to lie. So do Harpies, a voice of reason piped up. Part of her did want to trust them; the other part of her wanted to jump from the plane. The still shuddering, still plummeting plane.
Okay, time to think logically. She’d been with them for two days. She was alive and well, with not even a scratch. If she continued to panic, the Harpy would break free from her hold, controlling her, hungry to wreak havoc. She’d most likely take out the pilot—perhaps even herself—in the inevitable crash. How foolish would she be, having survived captivity and the Lords only to end up offing herself?
Logic achieved.
As calm nudged its way into her mind, her highpitched screams faded. Everyone stood frozen. In, out she breathed—or tried to, her throat felt swollen, blocked—now hearing the frantic alarm coming from the cockpit. Before she could work up another panic, the plane evened out and then everything quieted.
“That’s a good girl. Now back off, guys. I’ve got her.” Sabin didn’t sound confident, just determined.
Light winked into her awareness, and colors quickly followed suit, real life painting itself around her. Holy hell. Her vision had gone infrared, and she hadn’t even known it. The Harpy had been close, so damn close, to breaking free. It was a miracle that she hadn’t.
Gwen was still standing in the back of the plane, a grouping of red leather chairs around her. Only Sabin remained in front of her. The others had moved away, but they hadn’t turned their backs. Afraid to? Or were they protecting their leader?
Sabin’s chocolate gaze was leveled on her, fiercer than it had been even inside the catacombs, his daggers thrusting at men she now knew were Hunters. He had his hands raised, empty, palms out. “I need you to calm some more.”
Did he? she thought dryly. Maybe she would if she could draw enough air through her nose or mouth, but she still couldn’t manage it. Dizziness was creeping up on her, black once again sneaking into her line of vision.
“What can I do to help you, Gwen?” There was a shuffle of footsteps as he closed the rest of the distance between them. His heat seeped into her.
“Air,” she was finally able to force past the knot in her throat.
Sabin’s hands settled atop her shoulders, gently pushing. Her legs were too weak to offer any type of resistance, so she tumbled down—straight into one of those chairs. “I need air.”
With no hesitation, Sabin dropped to his knees. He inserted his big body between her legs and cupped her face, forcing her to focus on him. Intense brown eyes became the new center of her world, an anchor in a turbulent storm.
“Take mine.” His callused thumb caressed her cheek, abrading lightly. “Yes?”
Take his…what? she wondered, and then she didn’t care. Her chest! Constricting, pinching bone and muscle together. A sharp pain tore through her ribs and slammed into her heart, causing the organ to skitter to a momentary halt. Gwen jerked.
“You’re turning blue, darling. I’m going to place my mouth over yours, give you my breath. All right?”
What if this is a trick? What if—
Shut up! Even in her haze, she knew the eerie, ghostly whisper was not her own. Thankfully, it heeded her command and quieted. Now, if only her lungs would open up. “I—I—”
“Need me. Let me do this.” If he feared her response, he gave no indication. One of his hands trailed to the base of her neck and drew her forward, even as he leaned into her. Their lips pressed together, a heated tangle. His hot tongue pried her teeth apart, and then warm, minty air was sliding down her throat, soothing.
Her arms wound around him of their own accord, holding him captive, meshing them together chest to chest, hardness to softness. His necklace was cold, even through her shirt, and made her gasp. She greedily took his breath. “More.”
He didn’t hesitate. He blew inside her mouth, and another warm, calming breeze moved through her. Little by little the dizziness faded; her head cleared, darkness once more giving way to light. The frantic dance of her heart slowed to a gentle waltz.
A need to kiss him, truly kiss him and learn his taste, filled her. His origins, forgotten. His past, of no consequence. Their audience, vanished as if they’d never been present. Only the two of them existed. Only the here and now mattered. He’d calmed her, saved her, gentled her, and now, here in his arms, real life slipping away, the fantasy she’d had of him, of them, played through her mind. Bodies wrapped around each other, straining. Skin slick with sweat. Hands roaming. Mouths seeking.
She threaded her fingers through the silkiness of his hair and tentatively brushed her tongue against his. Lemon. He tasted of sweet lemons and a hint of cherry. A moan escaped her, reality so much more decadent than she could have dreamed. So heady…so…heavenly. Pure and good and everything a girl could want from a lover. So she tilted her head and did it again, sinking deeper, silently demanding more.
“Sabin,” she breathed, wanting to praise him. Maybe thank him. No one had ever made her feel so protected, cherished, safe, needy, so needy. Not with something as simple as a kiss. A kiss that left no room for fear. Perhaps she could let go, even be herself, and not worry about her dark side…about hurting him. “Give me more.”
Instead of obeying, he jerked his head away and tugged her arms from him until there was no longer any physical link between them. “Touch me again!” she wanted to shout. Her body needed him, needed contact.
“Sabin,” she repeated, studying him. He was panting, trembling, his face pale—but not from passion. Fire didn’t dance in his eyes, determination did.
He hadn’t kissed her back, she realized. Her own desire-haze faded, just as the dizziness had done a bit ago, leaving the harsh realities she’d foolishly forgotten. Voices clamored around her.
“—didn’t see that one coming.”
“Should have.”
“Not the kiss, idiot. The calming. Her eyes had turned, and her claws had emerged. She was poised to strike. I mean, hello. Am I the only one who remembers what happened to the Hunter who tangled with her?”
“Maybe Sabin’s a portal to heaven like Danika,” someone said dryly. “Maybe the Harpy saw a few angels while receiving mouth-to-mouth.”
Male chuckles abounded.
Gwen’s cheeks heated. Half of what they’d said escaped her understanding. The other half mortified her. She’d kissed a man, a demon, who clearly wanted nothing to do with her—and she’d done it in front of witnesses.
“Ignore them,” Sabin said, his voice so guttural it scraped against her eardrums. “Focus on me.”
Their gazes clashed together, brown against gold. She scooted as far back in her chair as she could, putting as much distance between them as possible.