Bound Guardian Angel (34 page)

Her slender, black eyebrows drew in tight.
“If neither of us hates the other, why do we fight so much?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I don’t hate
you. I’d like to say I do, but I don’t.”

They had definitely entered an alternate
dimension. This was the most pleasant conversation they’d ever had
with one another. And it came directly on the heels of another of
their infamous fights.

She curled her legs under her as she shifted
her hold on Aiden. “Tell me. If you could go back to that day at
Io’s house—the day when you altered those guards’ memories—would
you change anything? Would you do anything differently?”

She wasn’t attacking him. She wasn’t goading
him. She genuinely sounded curious, as if his answer was the key to
some personal mystery she was trying to figure out about
herself.

He thought about it a few seconds. Shit had
been fucked up in Io’s basement that day, but his actions had kept
Io alive.

He offered her a crooked, if not slightly
guilty smile. “No.”

“Why not?” Her tone wasn’t accusatory, only
curious.

“Because I know I did the right thing. I
know I saved Io’s life that day. I bought him and Miriam time to
fully mate one another, and that’s ultimately what brought King
Bain around.”

Aiden shifted against Cordray, snuggling
closer and pulling Cordray’s attention away for a moment. She
wrapped her arms more tightly around the little girl and kissed the
top of her head. Then she smiled sympathetically at Trace.

“You know, I was just doing my job when I
fixed the guards’ minds and discovered what you’d done. It wasn’t
personal. I wasn’t intentionally trying to get you in trouble.”

“I know.” He glanced down at the top of
Null’s head. “And I was just doing my job. Keeping a friend safe.”
And he considered everyone on his team a friend even if they didn’t
feel the same way about him.

“I know that now.” She rubbed her lips
together and played her tongue against the metal ring through her
bottom lip. “And I would have done the same thing in your
shoes.”

Trace narrowed his eyes on her. Then his
lips turned up at the ends. “So the truth comes out. Why am I not
surprised?”

“Now, don’t go gettin’ cocky on me.” She
rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated exhale. “I’m just saying
that, on a personal level, I agree with what you did. It was
ballsy, bold, and unusually selfless. Not many would put themselves
at such risk to help someone else who was obviously doing something
that would get him into serious trouble.”

“And yet, you’re telling me you would have.”
He tilted his head, enjoying this rare moment of humility from his
nemesis. “What does that say about you, C?” He grinned. “Sounds
like I’m not the only rebel in the king’s employ.”

Her mouth quirked on one side. “No, you’re
not. I’m the first to admit that I’ve gone against Bain a time or
two.”

“Or a hundred.”

She threw him a kiss-my-ass glare that held
zero bite. “I’ve never directly disobeyed him, but I’ll admit, I do
sometimes operate outside the law.”

“Sometimes?” He grinned. “Why do I get the
feeling that sometimes for you is more like the majority of the
time.”

“Because it takes one to know one, doesn’t
it? Isn’t that how the saying goes?”

“Are you saying that you and I are
alike?”

She lazily combed her fingers through
Aiden’s blond ringlets then twirled one around her thumb. “Maybe we
are.” She paused. “Who knows? Maybe that’s why we fight so
much.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to think about the
implications of that statement. On one hand, it was reassuring to
think he’d found someone who understood him, at least on some
level, because they were so much alike. On the other, if he and
Cordray were similar creatures, did that mean he was like those
kids who teased him growing up, because, at least until now, that’s
how he’d seen her.

It was enough to give him pause.

On the flipside, if they were so much alike,
maybe she had endured the same kind of childhood he had. Or at
least one that was similar.

“Earlier, when you said you understood what
it was like to be alone. What did you mean by that?”

She looked away and bowed her head. “It’s
nothing.”

From the way she said it, whatever she held
back was definitely something, not nothing.

“The hell it is.”

She tensed and cast a fearful, angry glance
his way. “I’m not going to talk about it with you, so drop it.”

He could almost see her walls shooting back
up.

So much for finding their happy place.

He sighed. “And we were having such a
pleasant conversation. I knew it couldn’t last.”

She sat forward and scooped Aiden into her
arms. “Look, it’s getting late, and I’ve got things to do, so—”

“What things?”

“
Things
. And they’re none of your
business.” Yep, the walls were back in place.

It almost felt comfortable getting back to where
they fought with one another all the time. Almost. Because he’d
kind of enjoyed the softer side of Cordray and their attempt at
getting along for a change.

“Fine. Whatever.” He was beat, anyway.
Working all day had worn him out, and he hadn’t gotten as much
sleep this afternoon as he’d wanted, thanks to their tryst.

He hefted Null in his arms, stood, and
followed Cordray through the dining room, the kitchen, out the back
door, across the lawn, and into the dorm. The older kids were still
up in the rec room, watching a movie over a bowl of popcorn. Brenna
was reading a book. Mya was in the kitchen preparing mugs of hot
cocoa.

Upstairs, Cordray led him down the hall to a
room at the end. Inside were two twin beds. She bent beside the far
bed, pulled back the Barbie Doll cover and pink sheets, then set
Aiden down.

Aiden squirmed and protested softly then
quieted when Cordray placed her Pooh Bear in her arms.

Then Cordray turned toward him. In the dim
light from the hall, her bright-blue eyes looked even more vivid,
shining up at him as she reached for Null. The moment her hand
touched his, electricity pulsed up his arm, sending warmth and a
cascade of tingles down his spine to settle in his scrotum.

Well, not exactly settle. More like swim
around like newborn tadpoles, circling, bumping against the sides
of his balls, and making like a party in his sac.

She paused as if she’d felt the shockwave,
too. Then she drew in a breath and shakily lifted Null out of his
arms.

“Can you pull back the sheets?” she said,
her voice airy and trembling.

He bent, dragging in her scent as he pulled
the green and blue dinosaur-covered comforter back then did the
same with the blue sheets.

Cordray leaned over and gingerly set Null on
the bed.

God, she smelled good. Like midnight oranges
covered in dew. Honey-scented, I-want-to-lick-it-off-her-skin
dew.

She pulled the covers up and tucked Null
in.

Then she turned her head toward Trace. They
were still bent over Null’s bed. Only inches separated them.

Her gaze fell to his mouth as her lips
parted.

A force inside him urged him to close the
distance. To taste her. To claim her.

He’d never felt such a magnetic attraction,
not even to Micah or Sam.

“We should probably leave and let them
sleep,” she said without moving.

“Yeah.” He didn’t move, either. At least not
at first. He stared at her in the darkness, enraptured by the
magical hold she had on him. Then he forced himself to stand and
moved toward the door, even though it felt like he was dragging his
feet through quick-drying cement.

In the hall, he turned and watched her close
the door. She was facing away from him as if she was purposely
avoiding his eyes. All he wanted was for her to turn around and
look at him again. To see her vibrant, blue eyes lock onto his.

The door snicked quietly closed. Cordray
hesitated, her shoulders rising and falling heavily as she
breathed. She seemed to be waiting for something.

Finally, she turned around.

Their gazes met.

And all the air whooshed out of Trace’s
lungs.

In an instant, he had her in his arms and
swung her around, pinning her to the opposite wall as he claimed
her mouth with the primal hunger of a lion devouring its prey. Heat
whipped through his body, fire coursed through his veins. All he
could see, hear, smell, feel, and taste was Cordray. Vivacious,
untamed, tangy-sweetness-on-his-tongue, storm-in-his-blood
Cordray.

And Jesus, she was kissing him back. Kissing
him like her life depended on it. Clawing at his back through his
shirt, biting his bottom lip, gasping and whimpering as though she
had never felt anything so intense, so gratifying.

He certainly hadn’t.

The way her breasts mashed against his chest
felt more perfect than anything he’d ever known. The way her silken
hair twisted around his fingers as he clutched her closer was a
kind of shackling he’d never experienced as a submissive, but it
bound him more tightly to her than any chain or thick leather cuff
had ever bound him to a bench or cross.

She tethered him to her with her sighs, her
rough tugs against his shirt, the on-the-edge-of-painful nips she
gave his lips.

More. He needed more of this dazzling female
he’d tried to hate but could no longer deny. More of her body. More
of her skin.

In a flash of daring, he jerked the hem of
her shirt away from her body and drove his hand underneath. She
whimpered as his palm swept up her tight abdomen, driving toward
her full breast.

God, he needed to feel her, hold her, rip
her shirt and bra away and close his mouth over her nipple. He’d
never caressed a female like this before. Had never felt a female’s
body without being strapped to a table or chair, or tied to a St.
Andrew’s Cross. Never of his own free will had he experienced such
pleasure, but with Cordray, he reached new territory. He’d found a
female who excited him without whipping him. A female who commanded
his body simply by her presence. A female he wanted in every way
imaginable and more.

His fingers pushed against the underwire of
her bra.

But just as he began to cup her breast and
feel its fleshy weight against his palm, Cordray jerked away and
shoved his hand out from under her shirt.

“No!” She staggered sideways, pushing him
away.

Her retreat was so abrupt that Trace fell
forward, knocking his head against the wall where her face had been
just a moment ago.

Struggling to right himself as intense heat
continued coursing through his limbs, making them weak, he turned
his head toward her and frowned. “What the—?”

“I don’t want this.” Cordray stared at him
as if she couldn’t believe what had just happened. As if she no
longer knew who he was or even who she was. “I never wanted this.
With you. Ever.” She swallowed hard and urgently backed away, fear
shining in her eyes.

Trace took a steadying breath, trying to
cool the fire blasting through his veins, making his cock a rod of
steel. He hadn’t thought he wanted
this
, either, but now
that
this
had happened, he wanted it back. He wanted
more.

“Whether you wanted it or not, it happened.
And you can’t tell me you don’t want it as much as I do.” He
started toward her, the need to close the distance between them
stronger than blood thirst. He couldn’t deny the magnetic pull she
had on him, anymore. She belonged to him. She was his. And he would
claim her. “You can’t deny—”

“No.” Cordray continued backing away, more
quickly now. “Just stop. Don’t you dare touch me again. Don’t you
dare . . .” Her pained expression gave away her
confusion. Denial warred with desire, twisting her features into
conflicted angles. Moisture welled in her eyes, her jaw clenched,
her throat worked as if she were trying not to throw up, cry, or
both, and she was practically panting as she reached the stairs.
“Just stay away from me, Trace. It’s better that way.” With that,
she darted down the stairs.

A moment later, the front door opened and
slammed shut, and Trace was left standing in the hall, unsure what
had just happened and what it meant, with a boner as hard as marble
straining inside his jeans.

As he heard the whine of the Ducati tear
down the driveway, a dull ache bloomed to life inside his chest,
followed quickly by the thought that if anything happened to her
out there—if anyone so much as harmed one hair on her beautiful
head—he would rain death down like the apocalypse.

Painful, excruciating, bloody death.

Caused by him.

His hand.

His power.

Because, yeah, Cordray was his.

Chapter 17

As Cordray sped away from Asylum, her pulse raced as
fast as the Ducati’s engine. Her body still tingled from the
explosive sensory overload Trace had awakened inside her, but with
every moment she fled his presence, the sensations faded. Within
seconds, the luscious feelings were nothing but a memory. Once
more, she became a barren wasteland, her sense of touch dormant and
absent.

How had she let him kiss her? And not just
kiss her, but invade her? She’d told herself giving in to what she
was feeling was a bad idea. She’d sworn to protect her heart and
the fragile emotions that dwelled within it.

But in those all-too-short moments, she’d
never wanted a male more. Never needed to feel touch as desperately
as she needed to feel Trace’s. He did things to her. He made her
want. And wanting wasn’t something she’d experienced in a long
time.

Everything about him was perfection.

His body.

His face.

His powerful hand.

He was the most attractive male she had ever
seen.