On Wicked Ground (Solsti Prophecy Book 4) (17 page)

She’s a th—

No. His mind crushed the thought before it could fully form. She wouldn’t take anything of his. He knew it. And if she had, he’d find it. Find
her
, since she was staying under his roof.

Needing a tangible connection to her, he strode to his dresser and opened the top drawer. He didn’t have a lot of possessions, and that was how he liked it. Weapons that served a purpose—now those were something he would collect and save. He pushed aside a pile of T-shirts and felt around until his fingers touched a small velvet bag. He took it out and loosened the silk cord that held its precious contents safely inside.

A lock of Alina’s hair lay nestled in the bottom.

He wasn’t sure why he’d kept it. When he’d gone looking for her after the explosions at Mulvari’s house, his senses had led him to the back of the property, to the gate she’d climbed with that bangle-rope she’d told him about.

Too bad she’d fallen down the other side, apparently sliding and scraping against the rough wood in her descent. When he’d gotten there she was gone…save for several golden strands caught on the unfinished panels. Haunted by their too-brief encounter, he’d plucked them free and saved them.

If any of his colleagues knew he had this, they’d think he was a nut or a sap, and give him complete hell.

Shaking his head, he tucked the bag back under his clothes and shut the drawer. He unholstered his blades and set them down on the dresser’s surface. Later, he’d give them a final wipe down and put them in his safe—

His eyes snapped to his closet and he stalked over to open the door. Holy shit. She’d been in here too. Her scent lingered on his clothes, as if she had touched each one.

What was she looking for?

He backed into the room and yanked off his grubby T-shirt, dropping it on the floor. He eyed his bed, rumpled as usual because he never made it. Had she lain down there?

The thought made his cock painfully hard against his zipper. He leaned over his rumpled bedding. Teasing tendrils of her scent danced up to meet him, taunting, screaming, “She was right here!”

A dark curse escaped his lips and fuck, he needed to find her. But he was covered in fight grime and sporting an erection so hard, being near her might not be a good idea. She was sexy and tough, and if that wasn’t enough of a turn on, he’d tasted those sweet lips. Had her on his lap, soft and willing. And now, at one of his species’ fertile times, he walked close to the edge of his control.

He quickly shucked his boots, socks, tactical pants and boxer briefs, stalked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Ice cold. That’s what he needed to crush his rampant thoughts of taking her hard and fast. She was a Solsti, for fuck’s sake. She had a role to play, as all four did. She was practically a goddess.

Stepping into the shower, he welcomed the icy blast on his skin. Too bad his dick didn’t seem to notice. Memories of Alina poured into that bustier at Hell’s Gate assaulted his mind. Tight leather pants. Getting her alone in the anteroom, with the scent of sex all around them…

He gritted his teeth and rocked his hips, need riding him hard. Grabbing the shampoo, he lathered it into his hair roughly. He needed to get her off his mind. He also needed to talk to her, find out why she’d broken in. But he couldn’t do anything with his cock swollen like a fucking rocket.

No, it would be better for her, and for anyone else he may have the misfortune to run into, if he took care of things right here.

Soap coursed down his body as he scrubbed, leaving his cock for last. He reached down to take himself in hand, fingers slick with suds sliding over the proud insistence of his arousal. Alina’s body would be this slick, this warm…Closing his eyes, he pictured her breasts plumped up in black lace, heaving with short breaths as he teased her ear at the club.

Another minute more and he would’ve traced that lacy edge, eager to feel her creamy white skin contained by only stitches and hooks. Then he’d grab her ass. Spank her for parading around in such a fuck-me outfit. Those leather pants were a wet dream waiting to happen…

He pumped harder, remembering her slight weight as she straddled him on the balcony. Full lips framed a mouth that tasted like honey and she’d welcomed him in. Greedy Solsti. And then she’d been in his fucking bed…he imagined her there now, naked, writhing, legs parted for him to taste every inch of her. She’d be sweet and hot. Would she scream his name when he made her come?

His orgasm barreled through him without warning, making his hips flex as hot jets of fluid landed on the tiled floor. It went on and on, as he imagined fucking her here under the shower spray. She was so tiny he would be able to hold her, moving her up and down his cock until they were both sated.

He let out a breath and turned toward the cold water, bracing his hands on the wall as his heart rate came back down to normal. Holy gods. He needed another taste of her. But maybe now, he’d be able to speak coherently and not hunt her down like prey. Though hunting her down was all the primal demon in him wanted.

Alina woke alone in the quiet room, her stomach empty and ravenous. She stood up and stretched, wondering what time it was. Checking the clock on a nearby table, she saw she’d slept for six hours.
Wow.

Crossing the room, she exited and had to blink away the bright afternoon light in the marble hall.
Kitchen. Where’s the kitchen?
She knew she’d passed it on the way to Whysper’s quiet room. She looked left and right, pretty sure she remembered coming from the left.

Creeping silently out of habit, she made her way to a wide arched doorway.
Yes!
Inside were three large worktables, three six burner stoves, and four ovens. It looked like it was built for feeding an army. She walked in, padding across the stone floor in search of a pantry. White marble counters gleamed, reflecting the fire bulbs overhead. Only two were on, and Alina kept it that way, seeing just fine in the dim light.

She walked to an entrance near the opposite wall and sucked in a breath.

This pantry was bigger than her room in the last house she’d shared with Sebastian.

Jars and baskets of fruits and vegetables sat on neat wooden shelves. Nuts, breads, pastries, and spices arranged on movable wire racks made her mouth water. Her stomach growled loudly.

Grabbing a loaf of bread, she turned to go back into the kitchen to make a sandwich—and ran straight into a wall of muscle.

Caine.

She sucked in a breath. “You’re back!” She clutched her bread and fought the urge to throw her arms around him.

“And you…” He took a half step closer. “Were in my room.”

Shit.
How did he know? She’d locked up after herself. She hadn’t moved anything…wait, the gray T-shirt. Had he noticed it was missing? She did her best to feign confusion and pasted a you-must-be-confused look on her face. At least, she hoped that’s how she looked. “Your room?”

He nodded, dark eyes unreadable.

Was he angry? A delicious mix of soap and woods and man wafted from his skin, lulling her and ramping her up at the same time. He stood so close she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. She backed up. “I don’t kn—”

“I don’t mind.” One brawny arm braced above her head, and she realized he’d backed her up against the shelves. Wall or shelves—it didn’t matter, he had her caged between him and a hard place. Again.

“You don’t?” Her voice came out as a whisper-squeak.

“No.” He leaned down, lips almost touching her ear. “I may have liked it.”

Tingles shot across her skin and she resisted the need to turn and meet those sinful lips. “W-what do you mean, may have?”

“Depends on why you were there.” He took the bread out of her hand and set it on the shelf by her hip. “So how about fessing up?”

She swallowed hard. She’d have to let him win this one. And she’d have to be sneakier next time. “I missed you.”

“Yeah?” His deep voice rumbled straight through her.

“Yes.”

“Then I definitely liked it.”

She took a deep breath to steady her racing heart. “How’d you know?” A thief always strove to hide her tracks.

“Your scent.” He straightened.

Her shoulders sagged. “Damn it. You guys have way better noses than me. I wasn’t even there very long.”

“It was long enough. Your scent was on my door. Inside and outside.” One hand skimmed her hip, tracing a slow pattern up her waist.

She froze as her entire body forgot everything except his touch.

“And in my closet.” His other hand cupped her nape. “On my weapons safe.”

She met his eyes, unable to put up a façade. Every line of defense fell with each caress of his strong hands.

“And in. My. Bed.” With each word, his hands tightened a fraction more.

She gulped a breath, dizzy from his nearness and damn near incoherent from the raw masculinity pouring off him.

He leaned down again, on her other side this time, lips skating over the shell of her ear. “You know what time of year it is.”

No, she didn’t know her own name right now. “Um, December?”

“You in my bed, at our fertile time…some would take that as a blatant invitation.”

Oh god, that’s not what she had intended. But his words sparked an ache deep in her body. Her breath came in short bursts. “I…”

“Is it?” The hand at her waist slid up her ribs, stopping beneath her breast.

Her stomach clenched at his touch. She couldn’t think. “Is it what?”

“An invitation.” The word was growled, as if he held on to his control by a thread.

No. Yes. I don’t know.
She knew she had only seconds before he took her hesitation as a rejection, and he would put distance between them. But she couldn’t form a sentence to save her life. So she did the one thing her body screamed for, and turned to press her lips to his.

It was like dropping a match onto bone-dry kindling, igniting a need so urgent it stole her breath. Like the past two days had been two years, both of them lost in a desert. Alone and apart. He yanked her flush against him so swiftly she gasped, and he took advantage of her parted lips. Thrusting his talented tongue inside her mouth, he kissed her with devastating possession, and all she could do was hang on.

He threaded a hand into her hair, gripping it so he could angle her the way he wanted. She slid her hands up his biceps, greedy fingers caressing the hard muscles that strained against his sleeves. His hair was thick and soft, and she knotted her hands in it as she melted against him.

His tongue tangled with hers, exploring her mouth with erotic flicks that she knew he would mimic on other parts of her body. That thought made her thighs clench against the liquid heat pooling between her legs.

Caine pulled back, eyes glowing with an uncanny silver-black light, nostrils flaring. Without warning his hands cupped her ass and walked her over to a cabinet on the other wall, with no shelves above it. He set her down on it, stepped between her legs, and before she could blink, he was kissing a fiery path down her neck. His lips were so warm, so slick, she dropped her head to one side to grant him better access.

He nibbled and scraped his teeth across her shoulder. Then he bit gently, teeth holding her skin, “Caine!” she panted. Shimmers of pleasure raced down her arms from the spot where his sharp teeth clamped. His lips were soft and firm, and those teeth gave just the right amount of pressure. Her body jerked and the ache in her lower abdomen exploded into a fierce urgency.

He skated the back of one hand down her tank top, across her breast, making her nipple harden to a painful point. She whimpered and wriggled, trying to get closer. She reached for him, needing to feel his skin, needing to forget everything else. At least for this moment, she could push away all thoughts of prophecies and spells and destinies. Right now, it was just her and Caine. She hooked her fingers into his waistband and used the leverage to pull herself closer.

C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN

C
AINE
’
S
HEAD
THREATENED
TO
EXPLODE
at the pull of Alina’s tiny hand. She gripped the edge of his jeans, just inches away from his straining cock. Her arousal scented the air, creating a lure that he couldn’t resist despite taking
preemptive measures
a short time ago.

She may not be Lash and it may not be her fertile time, but it was clear as a bell that desire had brought her most basic instincts to the fore. Hell, yes. He covered one breast with his hand and she dropped her head back on a moan.

Her neck too tempting to resist, he closed his teeth over the skin at the base of her throat. She arched toward him and purred.

His Solsti
fucking purred.

A responding growl rumbled in his throat and he kissed his way up her soft skin, finding her lips parted and eyes half closed. He squeezed and cupped her breast and she let out a feminine, pleading grunt.

So responsive
. Completely focused on giving her pleasure, he was able to push his own need into a far corner of his mind. He dipped to capture her mouth as he found the hem of her tank and skimmed his hands underneath.

Soft silky skin met his fingertips as her stomach muscles tightened. She gasped, then took over the kiss and he let her, intent on exploring her body. She knotted her hands into his hair, and sucked his tongue. Gods, she was so damn good. He imagined her lips sucking him off.

He pushed her top up to reveal a blue satin bra and nipples peaked under the fabric. With a grin, he traced the top edge, pleased to see her shudder and moan. “I wanted to do this at Hell’s Gate,” he whispered in her ear. Unable to resist the delicate lobe, he sucked it between his lips.

She moaned something incoherent, which he took as a good sign. He pulled down the satin cups, finding her nipples hard and pink. Her breasts weren’t big, but they fit perfectly in his hands as he flicked his thumb over one needy tip. Her body jerked forward and she wrapped her legs around his hips in a desperate cue.