Hunter's Rise (25 page)

His palms were sweating as he lifted his head and stared at Sylvia, standing eighteen inches away, wearing nothing more than her damp hair and that devilish, cocky little smile.

“I don’t get seduced,” she said quietly. “I might decide to seduce somebody, or I might just decide to have wild and crazy sex with them. But I don’t get seduced.”

She closed the distance between them and reached out, trailed her fingers along the front of his shirt. “You still want to go for a run, Toronto?”

He couldn’t speak. For the life of him, he couldn’t say a damn word.

So instead, he gathered that dark, silky hair in one hand and slanted his mouth over hers. As she met his kiss, he wrapped his free arm around her waist and hauled her against him. Naked, her skin still warm from the bath, she fit him perfectly, those amazing curves aligning next to his body like she’d been made for him.

He growled against her lips as she rocked against him.

“I thought you said no grabby hands,” he muttered against her mouth.

“I wasn’t being completely honest… I planned to do plenty of grabbing. I just wanted to do it my way.” She pulled
back a fraction, staring into his eyes, clear challenge written on her face. “Is that a problem?”

She was in his arms, naked. “Hell, no.”

“Good.” A pleased smile curled her lips as she stroked her hands along his waist, then dipped them under his shirt, pushing it up as she went until she could strip it away completely.

As it fell to the floor by the other one, she eased back, staring into his eyes for a long moment before lowering her gaze. Toronto held still as she lifted her hands and curved them over his shoulders, stroking down, her fingers learning the planes and ridges of his body. When she reached the small ring piercing his left nipple, she paused. Lifting a brow, she touched it, tugging it lightly. “Silver, Toronto?”

He shrugged. “I got bored one night.”

“So you pierced yourself with silver. You trying to poison yourself?” She continued to toy with it, her skeptical gaze lingering on his face.

“I’m too strong for that little bit to poison me.” He grinned at her, trying not to react while she played with the ring. It shouldn’t feel that damn good, he knew it. But while he was too strong for the ring to poison him, that bit of silver piercing his flesh did make him damn sensitive there and it was almost painfully erotic to have her tugging on it like that.

“So you did this because you were bored?” A wicked grin curved her lips. “You get bored a lot? What else did you pierce?”

Her gaze dropped low and a visceral, blistering punch of heat raced through him even as he instinctively winced. “Not there, sweetheart.” Although if it felt like that when she toyed with it…?

Besides, if he had silver piercing his cock, he couldn’t put it in her body. And he planned on having his cock inside her very, very soon. Reaching up, he covered the piercing with his hand, nudging her fingers aside. “I should take it out.”

“Nah.” She pressed a kiss to his chest and murmured, “I like it. Silver won’t bother me much unless I’m stabbed with it or I get it stuck inside me.”

Toronto lowered his hand, flicking a glance to the ring. No. It wouldn’t stab her, but…

“Stop worrying.” She bit him lightly, then touched her fingers to one of the scars on his chest. “Silver?”

“Yeah.”

He had a lot of scars, she realized. A lot. Frowning, she studied what looked like bite marks marring his arms, his chest— they’d healed, but the indentations from teeth still lingered. “Wolf attack,” she whispered.

“I’m a were.” He shrugged.

But there were so many bites— shit, he looked like they’d tried to turn him into a fucking chew toy. Forcing it aside, she continued on her study of his scarred, beautiful body. One scar in particular didn’t seem to match… it wasn’t silver-made, she didn’t think— just didn’t look right. Rubbing her thumb along the ridged, uneven line, she slid him a look, quirking a brow at him.

“Can’t tell ya there.” He grinned and added, “I’d have to kill ya.”

“Cute.” Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his and scraped her nails along his belly.

He jumped, caught her wrist. “Hey.”

“You’re ticklish.”

Before she could do it again, he caught both wrists and whirled her around, shifting so that he had her arms pinned behind her back. “No tickling,” he muttered, dipping his head to press his mouth against the curve of her neck. The scent of her, warm and sweet, flooded his head and he growled, desperate for more. Moving her wrists to one hand, he boosted her up onto the counter, keeping her hips at the edge.

He flicked a look at the clock. Too little time left before dawn. Forty minutes, tops.

Not enough time…

“Let my hands go,” she said, twisting against his grip.

There wasn’t any fear in her lurking under her voice. But he remembered the fear he’d sensed on her before— all at the mention of the isolation chambers. Keeping his voice light, he loosened his grasp and said, “No more tickling.”

“I’ll stop. For now…” Her hands came up and he stilled as she went for the band that held his hair back.

As it fell down around his shoulders, she said, “You really should be shot for having hair like this, you know. Guys just shouldn’t have hair this beautiful.”

He gathered up her hair, as dark as his was pale. “Mine’s just hair. Nothing special about it. Your hair, though…” He wrapped the dark, shining mass around one wrist and used it to arch her head back. “Your hair is beautiful. I’ve thought about holding it like this, seeing you on your knees…” He grinned at her.

“Pervert.” She reached down and stroked him through his jeans. “If anybody goes on their knees today, I think it should be you.”

“Hmmm. That’s fair.” And he heard her surprise as he did just that, tugging her closer to the edge of the counter and nudging her thighs wider.

Tight black curls covered her sex, and there were already beads of moisture there. He tasted her there first. She slammed one hand against the counter, her body sagging backwards. As he used his tongue to part her, she whispered his name, a low, broken rasp of sound. Then he licked her— hot, rich and wild.

With teeth and tongue, he worked her close to the edge. He wanted to feel her climax, hard and fast, and then again, slow and easy. But he was too aware of the coming sunrise, too aware of her. Once he felt her body tensing, once he felt her moving closer and closer to that edge, he stood and gathered her in his arms.

“Bed,” he whispered as her lashes lifted so she could glare at him. “We finish this in bed. Because I plan on having you at least twice before the sun rises.”

“We’ll have each other,” she said.

And once they reached the room she would use, she made good on that promise. He went to lay her on the bed, but she rolled to her knees and made quick work of his pants, stripping them away and then pulling him down, nudging him onto his back.

There was a challenge in her eyes, one that all but dared him to say otherwise.

Hell, she was out of her mind if she thought he’d have any problems with her riding him.

He’d ride her… later.

As long as he got a taste of her. And another. And another—

She came down on him, settling one knee on either side of his hips. He reached down, curving his hands around her, gripping that round, perfect ass as she curled her fingers around his cock, held him steady.

And as she took him inside her, she watched it… as he watched her.

“Look at me,” he muttered, tugging on her hair, guiding her gaze to his.

“I am looking at you,” she teased, but the lightness in her tone was forced— he felt it, tasted it. She paused, teasing the sensitive skin of his cock with her fingertips. “This is you, right? And it’s a nice piece of you, too…”

“Sylvia,” he growled.

Her gaze swept up to meet his. And he felt some icy, lonely part of his heart soften at the look in her eyes. A look she hid almost immediately. Vulnerable… something soft, something gentle, something that made him think she was about as alone as he was.

“That’s it,” he whispered, sliding his hands up her back and hooking them over her shoulders. He tugged her down so that her upper body was pressed to his. “I want to see you… feel you. Touch you.”

S

And she couldn’t turn away. Couldn’t pull back.

As she rocked against him, her heart ached, skittering into a slow, irregular rhythm. Cupping his cheek in her hand, she stared into pale blue eyes.

He swelled inside her and she cried out. Her fangs pulsed. Ached.

Then, as though he sensed that other hunger was raging out of control, he cupped the back of her head and guided her mouth to his neck. “Bite,” he growled against her neck.

And the damned wolf, like he knew what it would do to her,
he
bit her, sinking his teeth into her shoulder, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to draw blood… hard enough to drive her mad.

“Tor…” She shuddered.

His hand pressed the back of her head again and she struck, sinking her teeth deep, deep into him, instinctively seeking out not the vein, but the areas around it, intent on drawing it out as long as she could.

The orgasm slammed into her and she couldn’t scream.

His arms tightened around her and beneath her, his body stiffened and arched, one long, lean bow— then he started to move faster, driving himself deep inside, his cock pulsing, swelling.

And his blood—

Oh, his blood…

Beneath her chest, she felt a vibration. Growling. He was growling. Disoriented, she made herself lift her head, licking the blood from her lips. And she found herself staring into eyes that glowed and swirled. Power came off him in waves— all that power, he’d kept it banked.

And now, it wrapped around them both like a heavy, warm cloak.

“Syl…” he rasped.

Then his eyes closed, and a long, racking shudder took his body.

As he climaxed, she sank down against him, her brain whirling, her body humming.

Damn.

If that was what sex with a Master was like, she needed to be careful… She tried to tell herself it was all about what he was.

But even as she did, she knew she lied. It was him. It was all about him. And she had a bad feeling she was already developing an addiction to him.

“K

Toronto heard the voice.

He recognized it and once he took a deep breath, he even recognized the scent.

What really threw him was the fact that he hadn’t heard her coming
before
she’d got to his front door. She was quiet. She wasn’t
that
quiet.

Swearing, he climbed out of the bed and grabbed his jeans. Behind him, Sylvia sat up, her hair spilling over one pale shoulder, framing her face. She was flushed, thanks to his blood pounding through her system, and she was beautiful and perfect and damned if he didn’t want to fall right back into bed with her.

“Somebody’s here,” she said, her face strangely blank.

“Yes. A friend.” He jerked his jeans on and headed out into the hall.

“Not my friend.”

He wasn’t surprised when Sylvia joined him thirty seconds later, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, her breasts naked under it. No bra. But he saw the knife in her hand. Sighing, he said, “She’s not a threat, sweetheart.”

“She got here without
either
of us realizing it. She snuck up on us. That’s a threat,” she muttered, shoving her tangled hair back from her face.