Light of Kaska (12 page)

She rose to her feet, still chuckling. “Mmm, I love it when you give me orders.”

He sighed. “Please.”

“I also love it when you beg,” she purred, batting her eyelashes at him until he rolled his eyes. With an easy grin, she rested her hands on his chest. “I wish I could fix this for you, Chase. If you stayed here with me, you’d be safe enough, but we’d end up killing each other inside a week. And if you won’t let me keep the girl…” She shrugged and kissed him on the mouth, a quick pressure that had more to do with affection than seduction. “I can’t help you there, either. I don’t know why you’re getting all fussed anyway. You could leave now. You probably should.”

Leave now.
He probably should. Keza was safe enough at Browning’s. Bella knew where she was and she was friend enough to make sure the little woman got where she needed to go. The longer he stayed, the greater the risk that the Collectors would discover his whereabouts. He should go while the way was clear.

“She’s not your responsibility,” Bella said softly, watching him with eyes as ancient as a goddess.

He wavered, but the pull was too strong, The need to watch out for her too great. The woman was afraid of everything and as helpless as a babe. He’d taken on the job of protecting her a while back. He couldn’t just give it up now. “Yeah, she is,” he responded with a resigned sigh.

Bella smiled as if she’d known he was going to say that. “Well, then, I’d best get her off your hands quickly. I’ll make sure she can leave in the morning.”

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“Anytime, sweetie,” she said with another kiss and ushered him out the door.

Stryker retraced his steps through Bristol. His feet dragged as he neared the hotel, but having acknowledged his need to protect Sukeza, he couldn’t ignore the fact that he should check on her. Just once, make sure she was okay and knew enough not to wander. Then he’d hole up in his ship until Bella sent the word. He’d bundle her on board with the twins, make sure they understood that if anything happened to her, he’d rip them to shreds, and then get her out of his life for good.

He reached the hotel, unaware of the dark scowl on his face or its effect on the other pedestrians. Making his way through the building to their room, he brooded on his conversation with Bella until he noticed that their door was open. Alarm kicked his heart and he increased his pace, wondering what the stupid woman thought she was doing, leaving it open for the whole outpost to wander in.

Then he heard a muffled whimper and his alarm turned into full-blown panic. He sprinted the final steps, bursting into the room. What he saw changed his panic to savage rage, violent and uncontrollable. A man had Keza pinned to the wall, his mouth on hers as he pressed against her. She was struggling, but he had her arms trapped and her body confined with his own.

With a roar, Stryker ripped him away, throwing him with careless strength to one side. The man smashed face-first into the doorway, bouncing out into the hall. Stryker took a second to make sure that Keza was still relatively intact, before he lunged after her attacker. The man rolled, one hand pressed to his bleeding nose, eyes wild with panic. Before Stryker could stop him, he’d scrambled to his feet and bolted like a deer down the hall. Stryker started to sprint after him, his blood thrumming with the need to chase him down, to go for the jugular. But the open door made him hesitate.

Keza wasn’t safe.

The hesitation was long enough to let his prey get too much of a head start. Stryker snarled his disappointment, knowing he wouldn’t catch him now. Turning with a furious shrug and a whole body shudder, he stalked back into the room. Keza was still against the wall, leaning forward with her hands braced on her knees. Her dark hair had come loose and flowed past her face like a silky curtain.

“It was the guy from Bella’s,” she said in a thin, faint voice. “I didn’t let him in. I was going down the hall for something to drink. He must have followed us here. He must have seen you leave.”

He shut the door and made sure it was locked, moving with careful deliberation. He watched his hands shake and worked very hard on reining in his fury. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“No,” she answered and bolted for the lavatory.

He started after her. “Keza—” But she’d closed the door, and through the barrier he heard retching. He flinched, resting his forehead on the door. The shake in his hands increased to bone deep tremors like ominous earthquakes throughout his body.

He should never have left her.

He called to her twice, once when he heard her crying and once when she’d gone too quiet, but she didn’t respond either time. Stryker tried the door—she’d locked it. He paced, needing the motion to ease the pressure of helpless fury in his chest and the guilty clench in his muscles.

When she finally emerged, he faced her warily and studied her. She was as pale as cream, her eyes red from crying and face drawn. She didn’t seem to have any bruises or marks on her. Her clothes weren’t out of place or torn.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked softly.

She shook her head. “He overpowered me. I’ll probably have some bruises on my arms, but nothing lasting. He just kissed me, that’s all.”
“I shouldn’t have left you alone,” he growled.

“It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have left the room.” She paused, shifting in place while her eyes roamed around the room. “But I didn’t like how it felt, what he did. He forced me, and I’ve never…” Her voice trailed off, lips pressing together, amber eyes swimming with tears.

“Keza—” He started forward but stopped in unaccustomed uncertainty. Would she be even more afraid of him now?

She looked down for a moment. Then she took a deep breath and raised her chin, meeting his gaze steadily. Her tears were gone. Her pretty, freckled face was resolute. “I didn’t like it,” she said again with some force. “I can still feel him on me, feel his touch, and I don’t like it.”

“Do you want me to go kill him?”

He was serious, but her expression lightened, mouth compressing as if she was hiding a smile. “I think that’s a little harsh, considering. But there is something you can do for me.” She moved until she was standing in front of him, chin tilted and solemn amber eyes meeting his. She cupped her elbows, arms tight against her body as if she was cold. He wanted to hold her so badly that he ached all over with it.

“What’s that?” He was thinking she needed a hot drink, a solid meal. Possibly a doctor. Or maybe she wanted to speed up the transport process, get the hell out of here right now. He wouldn’t blame her.

“Erase it,” she said simply.

He stared down at her, not comprehending. If he could turn back time, he’d kill the guy the first time he’d put his hands on her. But he hadn’t mastered time travel yet.

She dropped her eyes from his, looking miserable. “I know it’s asking a lot and I understand if you don’t want to. It’s just that I can’t get it out of my head. What he did keeps looping around in there like a horror show and I need that to stop.”

“So…what are you asking?”

“I need you to replace it,” she said then peeked up through her lashes at him. “With something better.”

The ground dropped out from under his feet, and Stryker nearly staggered. No, she hadn’t meant what he thought…had she? “Replace it,” he repeated in a voice that sounded very far away.

“His touch, I m-mean,” she stammered, eyes dropping back down to stare at his chest. “With—with yours.”

She had meant it. Through the roaring in his ears, he heard himself ask, “Are you sure, Keza?”

“Yes,” she said in a small voice then babbled, “But not if you don’t want to. I’d understand if—”

He silenced her with his mouth. He should be warning her, telling her that one kiss wasn’t going to be enough this time. He should be giving her the option to back out. Except it was already too late. One touch and he was lost. Her face was fragile and delicate in his palms, her hair like silk around his fingers. Her mouth was soft, sweet, and welcoming, drawing him down like a siren song into the depths. Her kiss was benediction, forgiveness. He chased it with everything he had.
Never again. Never leave you again.

He put an arm around her back, pulling her against him as he cupped the back of her head. She was all soft curves and warm temptation, and he suddenly hated her clothes, hated anything that kept him from being as close to her as he could get. He slipped a hand under the hem of her sweater and shirt, splaying his fingers over the silky skin of her back with a growl of pleasure.

She made a soft noise in the back of her throat, standing on tiptoe to press closer to him, her arms sliding around his shoulders. When her cool fingers brushed the skin of his nape, he thought he’d catch on fire.
Keza.
She wanted this, wanted him, and she wasn’t afraid.

He was going to explode.

With a full body shudder, he lifted his head and began yanking off her clothes. She helped him, her hands trembling but urgent, amber eyes sultry and red lips swollen from his mouth.

“This, too,” she gasped, pulling at his shirt.

Realizing that he hated his clothes just as much, he ripped off the shirt then paused to watch her stare. He’d never seen anything as sexy or seductive as his Keza, dark hair loose over her bare shoulders, naked body inches from his own, studying his bare flesh with heavy-lidded absorption.

“So beautiful,” she whispered and touched him.

He ignited. Yanking her up against him, he devoured her mouth, rough hands claiming the soft curves of her body. The cool silk of her skin against his own drove him wild, and he lifted her, moving to one of the beds without raising his mouth from hers. The taste of her filled him with an insatiable hunger, the sunshine nectar of her body an addictive delight he couldn’t stop consuming.

When he had her pinned beneath him, he began an urgent exploration, nibbling and licking his way over her creamy skin.
Kessu,
she tasted like nectar all over, the sunshine of her skin soaking into him, slipping inside him and making him dizzy. Her breasts filled his hands with softness, her puckered pink nipples calling his tongue and lips and teeth. He loved,
loved
the sounds she made when he teased and suckled those peaks. Her little moans and cries drove him on like a goad. He needed to be closer, needed to crawl inside her, make her a part of him.

He moved further down her body while pulling off the last of his clothing, exploring her flat stomach with his mouth and growling his delight at her quivering response. When his hands were free, he ran them down her sides, sliding them under to cup the soft globes of her bottom with a groan of pleasure. He grazed his teeth over tender skin and felt his whole body tighten as he slid his hands down the backs of her thighs, lifting her legs, parting them.

He moved lower and drew back, watching with suspended breath and pounding heart as his big, dark hands slid over the creamy skin of her inner thighs towards the center of her. The vision was more stunning than any fantasy. She was ready for him, hot and wet and writhing, the dense scent of her filling his nostrils and shredding his control.

His hips jerked in response, his body so eager he could barely stand the air on his skin. But he had to taste, just one taste…and this too was nectar, so thick and sweet that he ached with it. He was so absorbed in her flavor that he hardly registered the sting of her pulling on his hair, her body bucking under his restraining hands, her cries urgent and needy. Until his own need grew too great, his whole body shuddering with it.

Rearing up, he pressed her down into the bed, holding her still while he aligned their bodies. There he paused, his whole universe shrinking to the burning amber of her gaze, the soft feel of her wrapped around him, and the hot welcome kissing the tip of his shaft.
Keza. Mine.
Then he thrust home, sliding deep and climaxing with violent pleasure at the tight, slick grasp of her body. One thrust. Another first.

Sukeza saw stars. Lights flashed and flared before her eyes in time with the cascades of pleasure still rolling through her body.
Sweet Goddess.
She’d had lovers before, but sex had never been like this. If it had, she’d have had a lot more of it. His weight pressed her into the bedding, shortening her breath, and his hard, damp body radiated so much heat that it was like holding a sun. But she didn’t want him to move. Ever.

He was still granite hard, still buried deep inside her, and she reveled in the sensation, the stretched fullness and sweet, quiescent pleasure. She marveled at how perfect his body felt locked with hers, how content she felt, satisfied in a way that had nothing to do with physical satiation. For this moment, he was hers, every beautiful part of him. Her panther. It was mind-boggling, almost impossible to believe, but she closed her eyes and turned her face into his neck, breathing him in and refusing to question. Not yet.

His cinnamon skin smelled as good as it looked, a mysterious, darkly exotic spice. It filled her with wild yearnings that shocked her, permeating her flesh, imprinting on her bones, on her soul. She breathed him in and felt dislocated, as if she’d become someone else. Someone who could hold this man as if she had the right, as if she was equal to him. Someone who wouldn’t let him go.

Swallowing words she could barely comprehend, she gave in to the urge to taste his delicious skin, a pleasure he’d denied her before. She’d barely gotten to touch him, let alone put her mouth on him, and now, under the delirious influence of his scent, she indulged. He tasted even better than he smelled—hot male animal, triumphant dominance, a wildness that made her body melt even further under his powerful form.

She felt the rumble of his growl before she heard it in her ear, the hard muscles of his chest vibrating the sound into her. He shifted, his head lifting, and she felt air dance over her heated skin when his body hovered a fraction from hers. Without thought, she breathed, “Please don’t leave yet,” and could have kicked herself for how desperate and frantic she sounded.

Then he looked at her and all thought fled. His dark eyes were as hot and savage as any feral creature of the night, his stark features etched with heated promise. The impact of his gaze drove into her, invading her and claiming her as thoroughly as his body. “Oh, no, Keza mine. We’re nowhere near done yet,” he said in a voice like rough velvet, thick and tangible as a caress. Tangling his fingers in her hair and bracing his forearms above her shoulders, he cupped her head in his hands with such gentle strength that she felt a whimper escape her throat. Lowering his head, he held his mouth above hers, their breath mingling and lips brushing in tantalizing, tingling contact.