Survivor Page 25

  I felt a pang at that, a sense of loss, despite the fact that he was right here with me. And how could I lose someone I didn’t even know? I knew about some of his sexual proclivities, but that was it. And yet I took everything he had to give me—breathing in his sighs, tasting his lips, sucking his sweat into my skin and his scent into my nose. When we finally came together, my body absorbed his ragged rasping cries, his snarl of almost pain, his sobs of relief, and his jetting seed.

  Mine, a voice rumbled in my mind.

  Don’t do this, I told my Tirian. Not again. You can’t keep throwing people together and expecting it to work.

  Mine, she replied, all her age-old wisdom cast to one side to reveal a primal beast snarling at me. I know what is pack. He is pack!

  Then let me find my way to that. If we’re meant to be together, we’ll sort it out in time.

  Stupid monkey brains. Always pick, pick, picking.

  And what about Kade? Noah hasn’t even met him yet. He’d be bloody horrified to find he has a new dad ensconced in the house. He needs time to adjust to things, to develop a relationship with anyone that becomes a part of this household.

  I didn’t get a reply to that, just a sulky sniff before she prowled away.

  “C’mon, lie down,” Sen said. “Everyone nice and tight. Coming down can be a bit rough after something like that. You did well, so very well. Just rest now. The next wave will hit soon enough. Just rest.”

  32

  Everything made sense after the incident. Rick looked at his close-cropped head and the great big scar on his skull, outlining what his bitch of a wife had done. He’d been found by one of his mates—who’d seen his car hooting off down the road at some ridiculous hour of the night—and taken to hospital, where he’d laid in a coma, apparently. Until they came.

  It had just been darkness for Rick while he was out of it. He’d heard the doctors and the nurses dimly, but he’d been smothered by this heavy layer of gloom, unable to respond, to form a thought, anything. And then somehow, that changed.

  The red lights were what came first, just points of glowing scarlet in the seamless black. He stared at them with his mind’s eyes for what felt like days, because what else could he do? He couldn’t breathe unassisted, couldn’t piss, shit, do a bloody thing but stare. And after a while, the red lights stared back.

  Rick couldn’t remember the moment it happened, when they resolved themselves from the darkness, emerging as two of the biggest black dogs he’d ever seen. That made him chuckle hysterically inside his mind, remembering how his mate Macca always talked about getting a big black dog up someone when he was pissed off. The dogs didn’t respond, didn’t do anything but stare at him.

  The weird thing was they didn’t go when he woke up. That was a slow, painful, shitty process. He’d still been pissing and shitting into a bag for a bit as they got him back on the mend, much to his disgust. What use was life if a man couldn’t have a smoke or a beer whenever he fucking wanted? None of his mates turned up either. Macca did and Gus, who’d reported his car stolen for him, but it seemed taking one look at him, with the scars and the drool pooling in the side of his mouth, was enough to keep them away. That was fine, they weren’t his focus, anyway.

  Since waking up, it was her and only her that clogged his mind. He pictured her falling down, crushed by his punishing blows, the crack of her bones as he kept on punching, her blood running and matting the carpet, only stopping when her face was so fucking rearranged, she was barely recognisable.

  That’s when he’d know it was done—when she looked like that.

  His cock only got hard when he thought about that now, while the pretty nurses giving him sponge baths did nothing for him. When they weren’t looking, he gave the old fella a stroke, thinking of his wife’s destruction, those big black dogs looking on.

  But he was out now, after some long, painful rehab. He strode out to Macca’s car, a few of his mates summoned by a series of angry phone calls. They’d passed him a beer as soon as he got in, trying to be all jovial and shit, but he’d shut that down pretty quick.

  “I need a fucking car and a tank full of petrol. I’m going after that bitch.”

  33

  Sen left the bedroom first, which made sense, I guessed. My head jerked up as I heard the door open, and I saw that dark clad back leave before shutting it with a quiet little snick. Something started to ache inside me at his absence, at his second absence.

  That one… my Tirian growled. It was shocking to hear uncertainty in her voice. Too closed off. Walls too high.

  But why? That was a question it felt like my instinct ruled beast didn’t ask enough. I wriggled out from under my guys, but Noah reached for me sleepily, trying to tug me back down.

  “I didn’t keep forcing you to come,” he mumbled.

  “Something for later,” I promised with a kiss, then let him fall back to sleep.

  I padded along the carpeted floor, grabbing my robe and putting it on when I saw the back door was open. The bright daylight stung my eyes, but my sense of smell told me where Sen was.

  His eyes flicked to me when I walked out onto the patio to where he lounged on one of the outdoor chairs. He held a burning cigarette up and said, “Sorry. Appalling habit but…”

  I just nodded, resting my hips against the table a distance away from him. Out of range of his smoke, but also him. I let my eyes catalogue him—the relaxed slouch, the faraway look as he stared out into the garden, the fingers clasping the cigarette. But then there was the tension in those muscular thighs, the way he avoided eye contact, the steadily growing silence.

  I felt a sharp stab at that of…what? Rejection? How could I feel like that, with a bed full of blokes ready to go rounds one, two, and three inside? Why wasn’t I with them now, listening to the hush of their breath, feeling the heavy, comforting weight of their bodies against mine? Why was I here with the one who looked like he wanted to get away?

  “Sen…” I fought to say the words.

  Just spit it out.

  Women didn’t do that, weren’t supposed to question the relationship dynamic. A million self-help books told me that what I was about to do was destined to drive him off. So be it, I thought. I’m done pussyfooting around.

  “Is everything OK? You seem…”

  He snorted at that, then took one last drag of the smoke before crushing it under his foot, picking it up, and placing it in the bin. He loomed above me, the bright light creating a halo behind him as he came back.

  “I’m sorry I’m not falling at your feet.” I jerked, stung. The words were harsh, even if the tone was mild. “Not like that.” He shook his head with a rueful smile. “I’m not doing this well. Because that’s what you deserve, Flick. For us to fall down upon our knees and worship you. When I saw you there with Noah…” Those grey eyes flicked away again. “There’s a generosity in you, an openness, even after you’ve been through all that shit.” His gaze returned, and then I saw the terrible intensity there. “It’s fucking terrifying. How can you…? You… Fuck.”

  I watched his hands clench along with his jaw and his head shake, as if that would help him to force the words out. I pushed myself away from the table, because I was done being scared. Maybe going to him now would scare him off, drive him away. Well, if that was the case, he was never the one to be with me.

  I walked over, his eyes tracking me like I was some kind of approaching predator, but he didn’t run. He held himself tightly, only flinching a little when I reached out and placed a hand on his chest, resting my body against his. The other went around his waist, and I laid my head down on his sternum and just listened, to his breath and his heart.

  Something in Sen made him want to run, I could feel it in the faint tremor in his body. But something equally wanted to stay, to unleash all of what he was so obviously keeping held back on me. I closed my eyes, focussing on the sound of the garden and him.

  “Fuck…” he growled low in his chest. “You make this so hard.” />
  His arm went around me, and he held me to him, tangling his fingers in my hair and then stroking it smooth.

  “Come on,” I said, pulling away and walking back into the house with no idea whether or not he was following, going past my bedroom into the spare one. Noah’s paraphernalia littered one side of the bed along with his clothes, something Sen smiled at when he did enter the room. I got on the bed and tucked my limbs up against me, needing the comfort of a body pressing into mine and making do with my own. He went to join me, but I shook my head.

  “Either lose some of the clothes, or I go and put a whole lot more on.”

  I wanted that, a shell of fabric around me. He made me feel uncertain, where before, he had guided me with a sure hand. I felt its loss now, felt stung that it had obviously taken some effort on his part to be the one that shepherded us through this process.

  An effort he couldn’t or wouldn’t be able to maintain.

  But he got to his feet, tugging his t-shirt off and revealing that beautiful chest. His hands went to jeans, an eyebrow cocked in question. I nodded, and he stripped out of them too.

  When he lay down on the bed, skirting the remains of Noah’s play, I saw that one thing remained true—he was still attracted to me. It was kinda pathetic, but seeing the hard lump of him in his underwear at least gave me some kind of solid ground to negotiate it. So not a sex thing.

  “I scare you,” I said, testing out a theory. He nodded sharply, his eyes dropping to where his fingers worried the texture of the bedspread. “Why?”

  That killed the conversation dead before it had started. I watched his face grow more closed off and remote as the seconds ticked by. Alright, new tack or walk away.

  It was tempting. I felt curiously powerful in knowing that if I got back into the bed, the guys would feel the movement, the brush of my skin, my scent, and be ready to fall upon me in a moment's notice. So when I turned to Sen, I was able to be something I found difficult—brave.

  He wanted to fuck me and avoid answering questions, that was apparent. I could do that, help myself to the obvious bounty of his body and enjoy that novel feeling of discovering someone new.

  But I didn’t need that. Heat forced proximity, made us come together in both meanings of the phrase, and if he was going to hold it all back behind a wall…

  “How?” I asked my last question.

  “What?”

  “How do I scare you?”

  That seemed to crack his brittle shell, his expression constantly changing as he struggled to get his head around what I’d asked and its implications.

  “How?” He laughed, the sound dark and desolate. “By…” He swallowed hard and sat up, hunching over to pick at his fingernails. “I don’t usually approach women before the petitioning process. Not much point. When you all grow up around each other, most women have made up their mind about who they’re considering before the petition even starts. I’ve thrown my hat in the ring. Being told no is just as hard as sitting in your room with the scent of a receptive female in heat in your nose and stroking your cock, so you may as well put yourself out there. But I didn’t do that with you.”

  Those eyes slid sideways, holding mine.

  “All the guys started calling in to see their mothers when word went around about you. Usually, single women are on our side of the town, easy to access and talk to. But not you. I dropped into the mess, as all my mates were down there, had some breakfast, and then I saw you.

  “Maybe this is gonna piss you off, but I watched you for some time. We all did, as you probably know. Looking, wanting, thinking about what it would be like to have you under us…” I felt my cunt spasm at something that had made me uncomfortable at the time. “But when I did, I saw that you were beautiful, felt a damn lightning strike of attraction, going from zero to down-to-fuck right there and then, but that wasn’t what held my attention.”

  My breathing was shallow as I waited for his answer, my lungs burning for more oxygen, but I was unwilling to disturb the quiet with it.

  “There was a vulnerability to you. No weakness, no fear, just… I felt like I could see the scars all over you that made you what and who you are today—strong, tough, able to take literally anything that life has dished out at you and keep going, but also a…a nakedness. You were like one of those insects that shed their skin, softer, more open, and it made something I’d thought I’d managed to keep down rise. I felt an insane need to…protect, manage, direct. That if you just gave me control, I’d keep you, all of you safe.

  “That’s… In Sanctuary, that’s damn near sacrilege. Women are to be worshipped, obeyed, respected, but when I felt it, it felt like all those things too. So across the floor I came, without even thinking about it, plonking myself in front of you and making a play I hadn’t made since I’d just come of age. When you bent your head, I wanted my hand upon it, and when you fidgeted, I wanted to still you. I went to get you a plate of food, as I didn’t know what else to do, and when I gave it to you, I wanted to watch. Watch you eat what I had provided, take strength from it, get pleasure from it and…” He snatched his hand away from the bedcover, finally realising what he was doing and perhaps what it was revealing.

  “I wanted to make sure you ate enough, that you were full, sated. That you weren’t letting all the demands on you wear you down. Here that’s madness. Mates care for each other, make sure they’re OK, but to get that involved, and with someone I’d only just met…?”

  He looked away, staring at the wall.

  “And it didn’t stop. When I saw how you worked as a pack, I could see it, the logic of it all and what was missing.” His eyes dropped down to his hands. “Where I could fit.”

  “And now?”

  “It’s only become clearer. You have good mates that’ll love you as long as you let them, who’ll raise your son right. Even Noah.” He laughed at that, but the sound died away quickly. “I want to interfere there too. Not let him get too crazy, too quick, just let you adjust and get to know him in bite sized pieces, rather than a big banquet he’s just as likely to try to force your face down in. Your beast wants him, doesn’t she?” I nodded. “Goddess, that just makes this harder.”

  He buried his head in his hands, scrubbing at his hair until it stood up at crazy angles.

  “Fuck, Flick, if this got out, they’d fucking exile me.”

  I couldn’t believe I was about to say this, but I slid my hand across the bed to touch his fingers and his gaze snapped to me. That same flood of heat trickled through the tentative caress.

  “So indulge yourself, here and now. I can’t promise I’ll go along with everything you want, but I’d be interested in exploring it. People…they use words and rituals to explore this kind of thing, don’t they?”

  “Safe words?” His grin was bright, even if his eyes were still troubled. “Yeah, I guess they do.”

  “You’ve never tried that?”

  “Sort of. Just play, theatrics at the height of a heat. It’s not the same.”

  “No? So what did you do when you were ‘playing’?”

  His face transformed at that, some of that dark sensuality flooding in as his eyes scudded over my skin.

  “Usually, I tied her up to the bedhead,” he said with a jerk of his head to the heavy wooden one behind him. “I like having her vulnerable and open to me. Then I’d tease her, work her up, edge her over and over, until she told me it was enough.”

  “And did you stop?”

  “The instant the woman said,” he replied, nodding.

  “But you didn’t really want to.”

  His jaw flexed before he answered.

  “Flick, I was raised to respect women. I don’t want to hurt them or make them do things they don’t want to do.”

  “But you’d like to make them do things they would.”

  He just watched me, his grey eyes bleeding to red, something I’d never seen before.

  “Yes. With every fucking breath, yes.”

  I did not know
Sen at all. He’d always had this dark sexiness, but right now, he really was that demon lover of literature. Those eyes of his promised a dizzying array of scenarios as I fought to visualise what his words might mean in practise. My eyes darted to the bedhead, and his followed mine, lingering way too long on the furniture. Whatever part of him gave him insight into others was ticking away right now, cogs turning, calculations made. He crawled towards me but stopped well short, sitting back on his heels and waiting.

  What’s the deal with the red eyes? I asked my Tirian.

  The Great Black Wolf touches him.

  And what’s he when he’s at home? Some kind of devil? I shivered as I saw the grey in his eyes shift.

  Sometimes. He has been in recent years. He is the divine masculine. Oppressive, controlling, and violent when unchecked.

  I saw Rick and that fucking sneer on his face for a second.

  And when checked?

  When balanced by the feminine, he is the strong, the protector, the provider. He wants to play games with you, channel that energy that calls to him without actually constraining you. He makes you flush with heat. Let him feed your skin hunger as he wishes it. We can free ourselves from any kind of trap he creates.

  I nodded, to her and to him.

  I realised then he didn’t expect me to say yes, as his eyes went wide, completely grey now. As my answer sunk in, he got to his feet and walked around the bed to where I sat, reaching over and tipping up my lips for his to taste. His kiss was all Sen—forceful and thorough, yet considered. The only clue I got of what I was doing to him was in the hiss of his breath.

  “I’ve just gotta go grab some stuff as well as some water for you.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You’ll stay hydrated,” was his reply. Short, sharp, decisive. “They call it a heat for good reason. Your body…” His fingers brushed my collarbone, sending a shiver through me. “It’s got a one-track mind right now, but that doesn’t stop it from needing fluids…” His lips parted, his smile dark. “Other than ours.”