Wild Card (12 page)

His hips jerked against her, ground against her. And she wanted those jeans off. Wanted hers

off. She wanted the thick, heavy length she could feel tearing into her. Thrusting and driving

her past the point of pleasure or pain.

The blood was rushing through her body, pounding through her head. She was close. So close.

She bit at his chest again, feeling him stiffen, hearing his curse.

Then he was pulling away from her, jerking back, his savage gaze slicing to the back door of

the apartment as he jerked her bra and T-shirt over her breasts.

And still, she heard the pounding.

"Belle? Belle Malone? It's Sheriff Grayson. Belle. Open the door or I'm going to open it

myself."

Noah raised her to a sitting position as she tried to pull her shattered senses back into some

semblance of order. She watched as, still shirtless, Noah stomped across the apartment, into the

kitchen, to the door that led to the side of the garage and the deck.

The scarring on his back wasn't atrocious, but it was painful to see. On his left shoulder was a

tattoo, a black sun pierced by a scarlet sword. It looked as tough and sexy as the rest of him.

And just as dangerous.

She could feel a chill washing over her now. Icy reality flooding her system as Rick Grayson

stepped into the kitchen, his brown gaze finding her immediately as he kept a careful distance

between himself and Noah.

"You okay, Belle?" His eyes were narrowed, his hand resting carefully on the butt of his gun as Noah closed the door carefully.

Sabella stared at Noah. His eyes were wilder than before, almost lighter, terrifying, lit with an

inner fire that had her heart racing in excitement and in panic.

"Belle? Why don't you come on outside with me, talk to me for a bit." Rick's eyes hadn't left

Noah.

Sabella shook her head before pushing her fingers through her hair and giving a hard, mocking

laugh. Rick had talked to her like that at the funeral.

Just let me and Sienna hold you here, Belle
. He and his wife had stood on each side of her as

she swayed next to Nathan's casket.
It's gonna be just fine here, Belle. See. It's all good, honey.

We're just gonna stand here a minute and then it will be over with
.

Rick was her best friend's husband. Sienna had stood with her, cried with her, hurt with her.

And Rick had talked to her just like that. Like a child that needed a careful hand.

"Rick, meet Noah Blake." She waved her hand to Noah as he stood against the kitchen counter,

his arms crossed against his bare chest, his back turned away from her. "Rory hired him."

Rick watched her carefully as she forced herself to her feet. She didn't want to move. She

wanted to curl herself into a ball and rock away the pain rising inside her.

"Belle, honey, your chin looks braised," Rick stated. "You come outside with me for a minute now, okay."

Belle rubbed at her chin and frowned before moving to the mirror hanging on the wall. She

brushed her fingers over the little bruise, then to her neck where the faint redness and another

mark was now showing.

"He has his own bruises then," she said, turning to Rick. "He bit me. And I bit him back."

Rick's eyes narrowed on her. She felt as though she were going to shatter as she picked up her

purse and moved to the door.

"We don't need to talk. Rick," she told him.

"I think we do, Belle." Rick moved between her and Noah. A buffer? She looked at Noah, saw

his eyes, the warning in them. No, no one would ever get between them and survive unless he

allowed it.

For now, he was just standing there, watching, waiting.

She turned back to Rick. "You interrupted a hell of a make-out session and I appreciate it." Her smile was brittle, shaky. "But it wasn't his fault. I think I might have bit him first. But you can

ask his opinion if you like. Personally, I'm going home."

"Belle, someone called in a report that you were being harassed by this man." Rick caught her

arm as she moved to pass him. "I have my deputies outside that door. You're protected here,

honey, you know that. Do you want me to make this man leave?"

She stared back at him in shock. "You what?'"

"You heard him, Sabella," Noah drawled. "He thinks I'm harassing you and wants to toss my

ass in jail for it. Do you want to give him the chance?"

"Shut up." Rick rounded on him, his expression tightening angrily. "Mister, I don't know you, all I know is you've already caused trouble with one citizen of this town. And I don't care who

you are. But you won't be harassing Belle."

"He's not harassing anyone or anything but my patience," Sabella snapped. "For God's sake, Rick, use your eyes instead of your suspicions. Look at his shoulders." She gripped the

doorknob and shot Noah a cold, hard look. "Arrest me for the bloody scratches there, but he

hasn't done anything you need to know about."

This was between the two of them. Her and Noah. She knew that. She wouldn't make the

mistake of drawing others into it. Not now.

As the door closed behind her Noah turned to the sheriff and wanted to smile mockingly. Rick

Grayson was a damned good man. Former marine. He believed in the law. Believed in the

county he worked to protect. But that didn't mean he wasn't on Noah's list to check out, or that

he trusted the other man now. Noah had learned all about broken trust a lifetime ago.

"You have any identification?" Rick was glaring at him.

Noah lowered his hand, ignoring the careful manner in which Rick gripped the butt of his gun.

He pulled his wallet free of his back pocket and opened it before extending it to the sheriff.

Rick took the identification, looked it over, and handed it back to him slowly.

"Belle's a friend, Mr. Blake." It was a warning. "We look after our friends here."

"Do you really?" Noah arched his brow mockingly. He hadn't seen much taking care where

Sabella was concerned. "Well, Sheriff Grayson, that's real nice to know. I'm sure it comforts

Sabella at every turn."

Rick stared back at him coolly. "Don't hurt her, or you'll deal with me," he finally stated before heading to the door. Once there, he paused and turned back to Noah, staring at him hard. "Be

careful, Mr. Blake, I'm a bad enemy to make. And playing games here would definitely make

an enemy of me."

Rick opened the door then and left. The door closed behind him softly, but the effects left in the

wake were clashing.

Noah stared down at his hands. Scarred hands. He'd held on to Sabella as though she weren't as

fragile, or delicate, as he knew she was. He had bruised her, and in their entire relationship, he

had always been careful to never mark her soft flesh.

He rubbed at the back of his shoulder, then glimpsed the smear of blood on his finger. He felt

the sensitivity of his lower lip, the mark she had left on his chest. She had made him wild. They

had made each other wild. As though a carefully sealed lid had been released on both their

lusts.

He would make certain it was released again.

Sabella slammed into the house. The heavy oak door echoed with the violence of the act and

pierced her nerve endings with a shattering surge of electric tension. She could feel the

electrical sensations racing over her flesh from the back of her head, sizzling through her brain

and creating an overwhelming surge of panic.

Oh God. What had she done?

She dropped her purse to the floor and raced upstairs. She tore the greasy clothes from her

body, dumped them in the trash can, and adjusted the shower water as hot as she could stand it

before stepping beneath the spray and scrubbing at her hair, her skin.

She wanted the feel of him off her body. The smell of him out of her pores. She could still

smell him. She could still feel him.

She leaned her head against the shower wall and breathed in roughly, a sob tightening at her

chest. Another man had touched her. His hands had cupped her breasts, his lips had sucked at

her nipples, and his cock had rubbed, hard and heavy, against her clit, and she had been on the

verge of begging for more.

"Nathan." She pressed her face into the shower wall and let the cry free.

Guilt seared her heart. It burned into her soul like a conflagration she couldn't quench. She

ached. She ached inside for the man she had never imagined being without, and she ached on

the outside for the touch she had been denied for so long.

She slid to the floor of the tub, pulling her knees to her chest, and lowered her head, the sobs

tearing through her as she rocked herself.

My witch. Go síoraí. Love me, Sabella. Love me forever.

His voice drifted through her memories and the cries came harder. She loved. She loved until

she couldn't understand how she drew a breath, second by second, without his presence in her

life. Without his touch, his kiss.

Six years. She sobbed at the thought, her head falling back to the shower wall as the water

pounded around her. Hot as her tears. But neither eased the blistering guilt burning inside her.

Her husband had been dead for six years, and still the vows they had shared held her,

tormented her.

The tears left her hurting more, because the tears didn't help. She could cry an ocean of them

and Nathan wouldn't suddenly be there, pulling her into his arms and easing the grief that

sometimes seemed to eat her alive.

And now, the guilt.

She picked up the washcloth and soap and she washed again. She scrubbed until she felt raw,

and still, another man's touch was on her flesh, and still, she was swollen, aching for release.

"You left me, Nathan," she finally sobbed into the steam gathering around her. "You promised, Nathan. You promised you would never leave me."

He had sworn he would always hold her, always surround her. He wasn't holding her. For over

six years he hadn't held her and still the pain could rip inside her, as though it had been

yesterday. As though he had betrayed her and just not returned to her. As though he still

breathed, and didn't touch her.

And the tears poured, like rain, like sorrow. Like the need for the touch, the kiss, and the

release from another man.

When no more tears could be shed, when the water grew cold and she knew she had to move,

Sabella dragged herself from the floor of the shower. She wrapped a towel around her and

stepped onto the thick fluffy rug that covered the floor.

She moved to the mirror and looked into it. She saw then why Rick had stared so hard at her

face. The reddened rasp on her skin from Noah's beard. There was the faintest hint of blue

where he had bit her. The thought of that bite sent a surge of sensation pouring into her womb,

into her sex. She licked her swollen lips and stared at her neck and her knees weakened. She

carried his marks down her neck to her breasts. Faintly red, little brands from his touch, his

kiss, his nips.

She hadn't wanted gentle, she had wanted hard. She had wanted to loosen the dark, furious

need she hadn't even known had been building inside her. She had wanted it free, and he had

freed it.

It was more than obvious she was canceling her date with Duncan tonight. There was no way

she could face him like this. No way she could let him see this. And it was even more obvious

that she wouldn't be seeing him again.

Shaking her head, she dried her hair, dropped the towels to the floor, and tugged on her robe

before going back downstairs and making the call to Duncan.

He wasn't pleased. It was short notice, and he was irritated with that. Duncan liked to stay on

schedule, and she had just messed up his little schedule. When she hung up the phone she

sighed wearily at the thought of the frustration in his voice. She would have to break things off

soon. Companionship was no reason to keep him hanging on. And companionship wasn't

enough anymore. She had tasted hunger again, and she wanted more.

She craved more.

Sabella wandered around the dimly lit house, finally finding herself in the living room, in front

of the large window, where the long table held her and Nathan's wedding photos.

How handsome he had been. She picked up the picture of them together. Her in the long white

gown he had bought for her. Her head was against his chest, his dress uniform stiffly starched

beneath her cheek. His hands gripped her bare shoulders and he stared down at her as though

he had found something in her that he had never found anywhere else.

She had been his Bella. His Southern Bella he used to call her because of that Southern drawl

she had never even tried to get rid of.

His eyes had been brilliant. So blue. So filled with life. She touched those eyes through the

glass, slid her thumb down his face, then lifted her gaze to the window.

The throttled purr of the Harley could be heard from the garage that sat within sight of the

house. She watched as the single light pierced the darkness and the motorcycle headed to the

main road.

Noah was just a shadow, as was the cycle as it gained in power and disappeared from view. She

watched the taillights until she couldn't see them any longer then looked down at Nathan's

smiling face once again.

A tear splashed on the glass covering his face.

"You left me," she whispered again. "What am I supposed to do, Nathan? Tell me." Her

breathing hitched as her stomach cramped with the pain of loss. 'Tell me, what am I supposed