Born of Darkness Page 14

  Try as she might, she couldn’t dismiss the longing she had for something she’d been so certain all her life that she would never want.

  The kind of bond she now knew she could only ever share with Asher.

  God help her, she was astonished to acknowledge the very real possibility that she was falling in love with him.

  “Hey,” he said, his deep rasp a thick rumble as he moved up the length of her body. He gently tapped her temple. “Everything okay up here? Are you all right?”

  She blinked, still reeling from the aftershocks of bliss and her own startling realization. “Yeah,” she murmured, gazing up into molten eyes and the ruggedly beautiful face that never failed to steal her breath away. She reached up to caress his cheek. “I’m more than all right, Asher.”

  It terrified her, how right everything could feel when she was with him.

  Because sooner or later they would have to leave his bed and face reality.

  But not yet.

  Not now.

  She kissed him, suddenly desperate for him all over again. He groaned against the hard crush of her mouth on his, then let out a hiss when she slid her hand down and wrapped her fingers around his rigid length. “On your back, vampire. It’s my turn to torture you.”

  # # #

  He did as she demanded, despite that he was harder than ever and desperate with the need to be inside her. He had sworn to himself when he escaped Dragos’s collar that he would never surrender himself to anyone’s whim ever again. But that was before he met Naomi.

  This female owned him, and he couldn’t deny it.

  Especially not when she was staring at him with pleasure-glazed yet still hungry eyes.

  His veins throbbed, not only with the need to fuck her, but with another raging urge too.

  As he lay back on the bed and watched her straddle him, he bit back a snarl. Blood rushed to his cock and an ache began to pulse in his gums as his fangs extended even further. The razor-sharp points felt like daggers against his tongue.

  He reached for her hips, ready to slam her down onto his erect cock, but she batted his hands away. Her smile was sensual, yet determined. “Patience, now. I haven’t even started.”

  He let out a rough breath. “I have no patience when you’re naked and within my grasp.”

  She tilted her head, one of her slender black brows arching over her almond eyes. “Are you suggesting I tie you down, then?”

  Holy fuck. Even though there were no restraints in existence that could hold him, the idea of giving himself up to Naomi’s pleasure sent lava coursing into every cell in his body. Even though it was torment and a test of his control, he kept his hands on the bed and simply watched as she rained little kisses on his chest and abdomen. Her pink tongue darted out to lick the swirls and arches of his dermaglyphs.

  “I love to see their colors,” she murmured, exploring him slowly with her mouth. She ran her parted lips over the glyphs that circled his pectorals, then her small, blunt teeth came together over one of his nipples and he nearly jolted off the mattress.

  “Christ, woman. Be careful, unless you want me to bite you back.”

  It was a mistake to make the threat. Not only because it was an empty one—a breach he would never make. But also because his logical mind was taking a backseat to the hunger—and the thirst—that was racking him with hooked talons the longer Naomi toyed with him.

  Now that he’d said the words, the image sprang to vivid life in his head. Naomi spread beneath him, her slender throat bared and arched to him like an offering. His mouth lowering to her, his fangs piercing her vein.

  He could almost taste the sweetness of her blood in his mind. It would be delicate like her scent, and bold like the woman herself.

  He squeezed his eyes closed and set his jaw, fighting off the ache there that signaled his need to feed. Now more than ever, he was almost desperate for it. That animalistic strike.

  The hot, dark taste of blood—Naomi’s blood—flooding into his mouth. The sensation of pounding deep inside her as he drank, her tight channel squeezing him as she came.

  He growled and shut his eyes, trying in vain to bar the images—and the thirst—from his thoughts. The necessity to find a blood Host was getting urgent the longer he was in Naomi’s presence. At least if his physical hunger was slaked he might have the strength to hold one of his needs at bay when it came to her.

  Not fucking likely, but he’d be damned if he took anything more from her than he already had.

  Cain’s reminder last night of what Asher had been—and everything he could never be—had been well-timed. Asher had been getting too comfortable with Naomi. He’d been finding it too easy to imagine what his life might be like with someone to share it with. Someone like Naomi.

  No. Not like her.

  Only her.

  He’d told himself that keeping Cain’s appearance from her was only to soothe her fears about Slater closing in on her or Michael. But Asher’s motives had been selfish too. Naomi didn’t know about his past. She didn’t know how many lives he’d taken, including too many innocent ones.

  His lie burned, but every minute that had passed since his confrontation with the other Hunter only made it harder to find the words he needed to say to her.

  She continued to kiss and lick and nip her way down his torso. He lifted his head to watch as she drifted lower, and the look in her eye sent a battering ram of lust slamming into him. His already swollen cock pulsed and leapt, clear fluid weeping onto his stomach in anticipation of what she intended for him.

  “You’re gorgeous,” she murmured, her eyes caressing him as admiringly as her hands. “I could never get tired of looking at every inch of you, Asher.”

  He wanted to reply. To tell her that he was nothing compared to her. He wanted to shower her with all the words that couldn’t possibly do her justice, but all he managed was a strangled groan, lost in her warm grip as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft. Then she began to slide her hand up and down his length.

  Her long, unhurried strokes had his pelvis rocking as he strained toward her, into her grasp. “You’re killing me, angel. God, I’d do anything as long as you keep touching me like that.”

  “Anything?” She laughed softly. “Better not make promises you may not want to keep.”

  She was teasing, unaware of just how apt her warning was. He had a hundred promises he wanted to give her, but had no right to speak a single one.

  And then he had no words at all, once he felt the heat of her warm, moist breath on the head of his cock.

  “Naomi—” Her name was hardly more than a broken snarl as she closed her lips over him and drew him deep into her mouth. “Ah, God.”

  He bucked, reflexively driving his fingers into her dark hair. Her tongue was pure fire and she was burning him alive as she stroked and pulled and sucked. She couldn’t fit the full size of him in her mouth but that didn’t stop her from trying. He almost had to peel himself off the ceiling as she deep-throated him, those tight muscles gripping him like a warm, wet fist.

  All the while, she made sexy little sounds, moans and hums around his girth that told him more than any words could that she was as equally consumed with pleasure as he was.

  If he couldn’t taste her now, he needed to get inside her at the very least. He quaked with the effort of letting her continue, taking her tongue lashings like a martyr would, suffering this sublime torture in silence.

  But then she began sucking in earnest, pulling back until she’d almost expelled him before drawing hard and deep, working the base of his shaft with her fingers, urging him to thrust with her hand around his hips.

  The rhythm was like a heartbeat now, relentless, impossible to control. He tightened his grip on her hair.

  “Jesus,” he ground out, his vision blurring in a haze of red, his fangs extending even further as his climax bore down on him like freight train. “You have to stop before I . . . ah, fuck . . . Naomi—”

  He broke off as he re
alized his warning had the exact opposite effect. She only tightened her grip and moved faster, moaning now, desperate, needy sounds that short-circuited his brain.

  “Fuck!”

  He bellowed her name as every nerve ending fired at once, sending shockwaves through his body. He came harder than he ever had before, hot jets scalding him from inside as she suckled him mercilessly.

  A sensation he’d never felt before wrapped around him, squeezing tight in his chest as he stroked Naomi’s hair and surrendered to the heat of her mouth. The feeling he had for her went far beyond lust. It was something profound and elemental, something primal and undeniable. Something possessive and permanent.

  Mine, he thought, as he pulled her up to lie next to him.

  He stroked her beautiful face and the glossy lips that had just given him such intense pleasure.

  Mine, he told himself, even though he knew it he had no right to wish it.

  He lowered his head and kissed her deeply, until they both were desperate for air. Then he let his fingers trail down her soft cheek and along her graceful jaw line, until he paused on the diminutive scarlet symbol that rode just above the fluttering pulse that hammered in her throat.

  “Mine,” he said, his fangs bared and aching.

  But before he gave in to the one mistake he could never undo, he flipped Naomi over onto her knees, spread her legs wide, then buried himself to the hilt inside her, letting her know she was his in the only way she ever could be.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Well, what do you think?” Naomi stood in the living room and gestured to the pair of side tables Asher had made. “Didn’t I tell you they’d be great in here?”

  He shrugged noncommittally, but damn if she hadn’t been right about the change being a good one. “It’ll do, I guess.”

  “You guess?” She gaped at him, a broad smile breaking over her pretty face. “This looks a thousand times better and you know it.”

  To him, the room’s biggest improvement was the petite spitfire standing in the center of it. She had her sleek black hair swept back in a ponytail, which only accentuated the beauty of her skin and unusual eyes. Dark jeans and a white T-shirt should have been mundane, but on Naomi it was as enticing as lingerie.

  Or maybe that was just Asher’s insatiable libido talking—at least where she was concerned.

  He’d finally let her out of bed around noon, primarily because they both needed to shower and she needed to eat. He had opted to keep his distance, best as he could, if only to avoid the temptation of her delicious body . . . and the equally tempting notion of her carotid.

  After she had lunch, she had fallen asleep with Sam on the sofa while Asher had holed up in the workshop, alone with his guilt and indecision.

  The confrontation with Cain still weighed heavily on his mind. The other Hunter was right about one thing. If Slater were to get wise about Naomi and link the string of suspicious wins to her, he’d be gunning for her with both barrels loaded. And if the bastard should clue in to the fact that she had something to do with Michael’s big win the other night?

  Asher didn’t even want to consider it.

  He didn’t worry that he couldn’t handle Slater or a truckload of his human goons. Hell, he would even take care of Cain if it came to that, or take the male down with him. But, more and more, the very real possibility that Naomi might get hurt in the process—physically or otherwise—was becoming a risk he was loath to take.

  And he knew why, too.

  That deepening, unquenchable ache behind his sternum was to blame.

  He cared about her. Not the way he had in the beginning, as an obligation to shield a female who might one day bear another Breed male’s offspring, but as the woman he desired above any other.

  As the mate he would never be worthy of, even if his hands weren’t stained with countless spent lives.

  And caring meant he was liable to make mistakes.

  To truly keep her safe, he would need every weapon at his disposal, chief among them his ability to think, act, and react with the emotionless logic of his former life. Allowing Naomi past those walls had changed everything.

  She had changed him.

  “Come on,” she said, grabbing his hand. “Let’s go get that armoire for the bedroom. You’ll thank me later.”

  She gave him a little tug, only to draw up short when her phone’s text chime went off in her back pocket. “It’s Michael.”

  Asher tensed as she tapped the display and read for a second. “The casino funds couldn’t have cleared so soon, could they?”

  “No,” she said, but when she glanced at him, her face was lit with excitement. “It’s not about the money. It’s even better news. Penny’s back.”

  “Penny?” Asher shook his head, confused.

  “She’s one of the kids at the house, a ten-year-old girl who’s had a really shitty life so far. She’s been gone for nearly two weeks this time, the longest since she first came around. But now she’s back.”

  Asher grunted. “I can see you’re relieved.”

  “Are you kidding me? I’m elated. I’ve been so worried about her.” Naomi put her head down and started texting Michael back. “I have to see her. Even if it’s only for a few minutes—”

  “Out of the question.”

  “Do you mind if I borrow the—” She glanced up, frowning. “Excuse me?”

  He gave a curt shake of his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s too soon. Slater may have eyes on the house—hell, that’s practically a given.”

  Cain’s eyes, at the very least, although not until dark. Asher was fairly certain the former Hunter wouldn’t harm Naomi now that he knew she was a Breedmate, but it was still his job to look after Slater’s money. There were a lot of creative ways to move someone out of the way without hurting them. The thought of a killer like Cain getting anywhere near her was enough to turn Asher’s blood cold.

  And the idea of letting her leave during the daytime when Asher couldn’t even protect her from Slater’s human thugs was an option he refused to so much as consider.

  “You’re not going, Naomi. And definitely not alone.”

  Her chin hiked up. “And you can’t keep me here.”

  “Yes. I can.” He stepped toward her. “But I don’t want to do that.”

  “I want to see Michael and Penny and the rest of the kids.”

  “It’s too soon. If Slater—”

  She shook her head. “If Slater had any suspicions about that win the other night, he never would’ve let Michael out of the casino with the check in the first place. We’re having a good time out here together, Asher, but I’m not your property. You don’t have the right to keep me from my home.”

  Her home.

  Somehow, he’d actually started to forget that fact. Ironic, considering everything else he was cursed to remember in his life. Naomi belonged somewhere else. Her friend and the troubled kids they were trying to help meant more to her than anything.

  Certainly more than him.

  He saw her devotion to them in the determined line of her mouth, and in the mutinous sherry-colored eyes that held the power to turn him inside out with a single look. Rather like the one she leveled on him now.

  After the intimacy they’d shared the past couple of days and nights, to hear her dismiss it as nothing more than a good time stung more than he thought possible.

  Time to recalibrate his thinking. Not to mention his reckless cravings where this female was concerned.

  “You’re right,” he said evenly. “You don’t belong to me. If you want to go home, then I won’t keep you from it. But I’m going to take you there.”

  “Fine,” she said quietly, her expression softening somewhat. “Thank you.”

  He stepped away from her without acknowledging her gratitude. “Tell your Michael I’ll be coming with you. We’ll head out as soon as night falls.”

  # # #

  The door swung open before he had a chance to knock, and Michael Car
son stared up at him from his wheelchair.

  “Holy fuck, she wasn’t kidding. You’re huge.” The young man gave Asher a wide grin as he rolled back and made space for him to step inside the house behind Naomi. “I’m Michael.”

  He held out his hand to Asher and Naomi blanched. “Oh, Michael, wait. Asher doesn’t like—”

  “It’s all right,” Asher said, shaking the man’s hand in spite of its cost.

  He weathered the sudden jolt of ugly memories that hit him on contact, careful to keep his expression neutral in spite of the ugliness—and the agony—of Michael’s past suffering. The incident Naomi told him about, the one that ended with an eight-year-old boy’s jaw being smashed under his father’s fist, rolled over Asher in brutal detail.

  He nodded, feeling nothing but respect for the young man who’d suffered so much but survived to make a better life, not only for himself but the kids he welcomed into his home.

  “I’m honored to meet you, Michael.”

  “Likewise. Now I see why Nay was trying to keep you all to herself.” His warm, smiling eyes took Asher in again from head to toe, before he slanted a wide-eyed look at Naomi. “Well, come in, you two. We don’t want to sit here with the door open all night, do we?”

  “How are things?” Naomi asked, code that Michael picked up on instantly.

  “Quiet so far.” He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “I can hardly believe how smoothly it’s gone. By tomorrow this time, we should be golden.”

  A sigh gusted out of her. “Thank God.” The sound of children’s voices carried from other areas of the house and she craned her neck to peer down the hall. “Lot of kids come in for the night?”

  “It’s early yet so only four, but the rest will be rolling in later.”

  “And Penny,” Naomi prompted, eagerness and relief in her voice. “I’m so glad to hear she’s come back.”

  Michael nodded. “Me too. Apparently, her mom’s back in town from Reno. Brought another loser boyfriend with her. Penny wanted to give her a chance, but things got bad again.”