No Rest for the Wicked (30 page)

Kaderin ran in his path, exactly where mud flew up in intervals, letting him take the risk.

Cindey began gunning to pass Kaderin on the right.

An idea arose. Kaderin pumped her arms, darting forward. “Cindey!” she called. “The

right leg!”

She nodded. A breath later, they both dove for him, tackling him into the mucky ground.

He twisted around, white fangs bared, snapping at Cindey, who jammed her elbow into his

throat. He slashed out at Kaderin with his deadly claws, but she sprang back. They

whistled by just millimeters from her face. If Mariketa hadn’t weakened him, they’d both

be dead.

As the two wrestled to hold him, inflicting injuries to down the large male, he fought like

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) the animal he was. The three covered a large area, yet they hadn’t triggered a mine—there

had to be one close by. “Kick, you idiot!” Kaderin screamed to Cindey.

They dodged claws, booting his chest to send him rolling over and over far back. All three

heard the distinct metallic click. He had time only to grit his teeth.

Light flashed. Kaderin yanked the siren in front of herself for cover. Bowen flew in a hail

of red mud fifty feet away, but the explosion caught them as well, catapulting them back.

When it ceased raining clumps of earth, Kaderin shoved Cindey off her. Moaning, Cindey

staggered to her feet, holding her sensitive ears, blown from the percussion. She had blood

splattered all over her, running down her bared arms and neck through runnels of mud.

As Kaderin scrambled to her feet, she saw Bowen, who had a short bar of shrapnel jutting

out from his ribs. Claws digging into the ground, he rose to his hands and knees, then

unsteadily to his feet. He must know that if he removed the metal, the blood loss would

put him out of this.

Kaderin took inventory, assessing her own injuries. Apparently, she’d caught a good

bounce for once, just a few scratches.

Incredibly, Bowen loped ahead, dripping blood, turning back toward the explosion. She

yanked her head around, perceived a kind of fluorescence in one of the puddles. The

explosion must have unearthed the box. She surged forward, darting through the mud,

uncaring of the mines. She gained on Bowen.

The bar was skewered completely through him. His jostling run was no doubt agony, but

he was still going. Soon they were side by side. There, glowing before them, was a

wooden case, smaller than a cigar box. It was sealed and bobbing like flotsam.

Kaderin dove for it, just as Bowen did. Sliding through the mud, they collided, butting

heads so hard her vision briefly blurred. The box went sloshing back.

His ice-blue eyes showed a complete loss of reason. His voice was guttural and breaking.

“You’re about to wish I could kill you.”

They both dove forward once more, grappling for the prize. As it bobbed down, they

rooted blindly for it, uncaring if they were about to have their hands and faces blown off.

They each snagged it with one hand. She hissed, snapping her teeth, reaching over her

shoulder for her sword just as he raised a hand spiked with those deadly claws—

Sebastian appeared, seizing the box from both of them.

Kaderin blinked up at Sebastian through the rain. Time seemed to stand still.

She was transfixed, awed, by the savagery in his jet eyes, the harsh lines of his face, his

coal-black hair whipping over his chin.

Suddenly, she was desperate to be the female a male like that would always come for.

Ached to be her.

He stood with one foot in front of the other. She understood why immediately—he was

standing on a mine. Judging by the menacing look on his face, this was on purpose. He

held out his hand. “Come to me.” She lunged for him just as Bowen did. Sebastian

snatched her away and traced them to the edge of the field.

The mine exploded. Sebastian pushed her back behind him, much as he had that night at

Riora’s assembly.

When the air cleared, she edged beside him and saw Bowen shuddering, lying on his front

where he’d landed. Blood ran freely from his mouth. He mumbled what sounded like a

woman’s name. Of course, his mate’s name.

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) He seemed to sense they were still there, and raised his face. She hissed in a breath at the

sight. One eye was gone, and the left side of his forehead and temple had been burned

away. But his wasted body and dazed mind were still desperate for the prize, for the mate

he’d lost as she’d fled him so many years ago. Somehow he was digging those claws into

the ground to drag himself forward.

“Trace me, Sebastian,” she whispered. He did nothing. “He’ll hit another mine if we stay.”

“Exactly.” Sebastian’s eyes were dark as the night and chilling. “He deserves it for what

he did to you.”

Bowen was crawling toward them, and Cindey was walking in circles, blood pouring from

her ears, mumbling something... something about a baby, and Kaderin couldn’t watch any

longer. In the past, she’d have looked on with satisfaction as her competitors suffered.

But she was different now. Or, more accurately, she was as she used to be from the very

beginning.

“Please, Bastian,” she cried, turning to grab his shirt with both hands. He tensed with

surprise, studying her face. Whatever he saw in her expression had him wrapping her

tightly in his arms and tracing her away.

Bowen’s anguished roars echoed in her ears long after they’d disappeared.

31

B ack in her flat, she shivered in her wet clothes. The storm seemed to have followed them

to London and raged outside. Dusk had just settled over the city. It was six hours earlier

here than in Cambodia , which meant the night had started over for her. For them.

Without a word, he tucked the box into his jacket pocket, then took her hand, leading her

to her bathroom. He turned on the shower, then began to unbutton her shirt.

His eyes were as wild as that Lykae’s had been. “Do you want that box, Kaderin?”

She nodded, still out of breath.

He pushed her shirt past her shoulders, then pulled it down her arms, freeing it. “You have

to pay for it.” He unclasped the fastening at the front of her soaked-through bra, then it,

too, fell to the ground. At the sight of her breasts, he inhaled deeply but didn’t touch her,

only continued to undress her. She had to hold on to his shoulders as he unzipped her

pants and dragged them and her panties from her.

When she stood before him, completely unclothed, she asked in a bewildered tone, “What

do you want?” She was still dazed—not only by the violence of the night, but by that look

of his in the rain. She shivered to recall it.

“Wash off the mud, and come to the bedroom,” he ordered, his voice rough.

She stared at the door for long moments after he left. Then she noticed, in her bathroom,

all of his things. Razor, toothbrush, soap. The bastard had moved in? Her attention had

been focused on him when they first arrived, but now she could recall seeing books and

newspapers lying scattered throughout the flat. A pair of boots had been kicked off at the

door. “The bloody squatter,” she muttered as she stepped under the water.

As she scrubbed away at the mud covering her, she wondered what he would demand. She

was infuriated, but at the same time, she was burning with curiosity.

Would he try to drink her again? Or make love to her? Or both? She hated that imagining

either made her aroused.

But even though she truly yearned to make love to the man she’d seen in the storm and

confusion tonight, she wouldn’t be coerced into it.

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) After washing her hair, she dried off and shrugged into a pink silk robe. When she

returned to the bedroom, stepping around his things, he stood.

He’d removed his wet jacket and shirt. His chest was still damp, the muscles tense. His

eyes were black once more. “Come here,” he said, and she could barely make her feet

move.

Worrying her bottom lip, she crossed to him. When she stood in front of him, he wasted

no time, palming the curves of her ass under her robe, making her gasp.

Then he languidly kissed her neck with slow licks, before dipping to her breasts. When he

sucked her nipple through the silk, she moaned, and her knees went weak. But he held her

firmly.

“Bastian,” she breathed. “I want to tell you something.” Would he believe she never

intended to go to bed with Gamboa?

He drew away. “The time for talking is over. Now, do you want your trinket or not?”

“I won’t make love to you,” she told him.

His lips curled into a cruel smirk. “You assume that I want to make love to you?”

She blinked up at him, clearly surprised by his words. “What if I told you that I want you

to give me the prize? As a gift to your Bride? You offered once.”

“We’re past that. I’m not a gentleman anymore. I’m not even a human. And you’re no

lady.”

When he pressed down on her shoulders, there was no mistaking what he desired. She

stiffened, but he said, “Oh, no, you want your prize, then you’ll do as I wish.”

She went to her knees before him. “Couldn’t get a nymph to do this?”

“Why would I settle for a nymph when I have a Valkyrie at my bidding?”

“And this is what you want?” she asked, gazing up at him.

“Yes,” he rasped, one hand on her head, the other clutching her nape. He wanted her

before him like this, to be forced to look up at him and acknowledge that he was in

control. He could master her if he chose. He wanted her to taste him, to show him this

pleasure.

No, not like this.

Where did that thought come from? When he was so goddamned close to finally knowing

what this was like?

He ground his teeth, not even able to imagine what her mouth closing over his shaft would

feel like. But doubt nagged him. Lust warred with an indistinct warning deep inside him.

The way she turned to me tonight...

He choked out, “Stop.” He clutched her shoulders. “Get off your knees. I don’t want you

to do this.” He yanked her to her feet, then strode away. “This would make you a whore. I

can’t do that.”

“How is it different from the basilisk’s egg?” she asked, her tone rising with anger.

“Then I sought only to touch you.”

Her eyes flashed silver. “Why do you even care if this would brand me a whore?”

“Do you know what this is like? I know you care nothing for me, but I feel as if we’re

wed. For you to have gone to another man... and let him touch you... ” He ran his hand

over his face, his arousal waning quickly. “Forget it.” He tossed the box onto the bed and

turned away. “You can have it.”

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“Payment on the pillow? But, Sebastian, I didn’t earn it.” Before he could trace, she said,

“By the way, you arrogant ass... ”

She sauntered to his back, trailing a finger over his shoulders, which tensed from the light

touch. Lowering her voice to a breathy tone, she said, “You’ve just sacrificed the chance

to experience how an immortal female worships a male with her mouth.”

Her finger skimmed to his front as she walked around to face him. She stood on her toes,

and at his ear, she murmured, “I would have given you the hottest, wettest kiss you’ve

ever received. I would have spent ages taking you with my tongue.”

Sudden sweat beaded on his forehead.

“But now, I’ve only to thank you for saving me all those hours.”

He shuddered, then strode away from her with a grated sound of frustration. “Do you

think this was easy to give up when it would be from you?” He felt crazed with lust.

Curiosity goaded him. He threw his hands up, pacing in long strides. “Seeing you on your

knees when I’ve never had—”

“Had what?” When he said nothing, just stilled and ran his hand over the back of his neck,

she asked softly, “You’ve never had that?”

Sebastian looked away sharply, unwilling to admit it to her, and unable to deny it.

He isn’t denying it? Kaderin’s lips parted. He’s never experienced that?

The idea shocked her. Then it stirred her, making shivers dance up her spine.

I could be his first.

She could admit that her anger had come partly from thwarted desire. When the wet

material of his pants had hugged his thick shaft in front of her, she’d grown weak with

humiliation and heat because she’d wanted to taste him. Now that arousal roared to life

once more.

To be a male’s first at anything? She tilted her head at him. “Have you... imagined me

doing it to you?”

He scowled as if her question was absurd.

“I see.” He seemed volatile, seething inside. She felt as if she’d cornered a wounded bear

and needed to move gingerly. “Why would you give away the opportunity?”

He snapped, “Because it’s not over with us!”

She drew back her head. “Even after Colombia ?”

He crossed to her. “Tonight, at the minefield, you were different. It’s... just not over.”

At his words, a well of emotion swept her up. Desire, yes, but now she could admit there

was much more. Sebastian had wanted to be cruel to her—clearly had needed to be.