The Darkest Secret: Chapter 16

I want you. As Haidee’s soft, shattering words echoed in Amun’s mind, he stopped waiting for her to take the lead, stopped waiting for her to physically prove her desire for him, thereby atoning for her rejection of him in favor of Micah in the shower.

I can give you what you want, he told her, voice raw.

Her lips parted on a relieved gasp.

He didn’t want her relieved; he wanted her mindless. With a moan, he crushed his mouth to hers, one hand at her nape, one on her ass, and jerked her into the uncompromising line of his body. Immediately she opened for him, welcoming the hard thrust of his tongue into those wet, satiny depths. He tasted mint and apple, both frosted like ice cream. Both fueling his need.

During their talk, he’d meant to ask her about the unnatural chill of her skin, but as she’d spoken of death and pain, he had focused only on that. On finding a way to save her. There had to be a way. And there had to be a reason she kept coming back.

How many times had she died? he’d wondered. In how many ways? Not knowing tortured him, but he had a feeling that knowing would utterly destroy him. No matter what she’d done in the past, she hadn’t deserved to suffer as she clearly had. Especially more than once. The fear in her eyes as she’d spoken of being reborn into the same body…he never wanted to see it again.

And could he really blame her for her hatred of him and his friends? A demon-possessed immortal had slain her family, her husband. Amun would have reacted the same way, lashing out at everyone responsible, even the slightest bit. At the time of Baden’s death, Haidee had known only that the Lords were violent, crazed, capable of any dark deed. Of course she’d sought to destroy them.

He’d done the same to her. To her colleagues.

Now, as Amun looked back without any taint of guilt, fury or despair, he knew three things to be true. Haidee had lost her family. He had lost a friend. He wasn’t going to hate her for that loss anymore. Since she’d fought her way into his bedroom, so sweetly caring for his wounds, the sentiment hadn’t sat right with him, anyway. He’d had to force the issue.

Now, he wanted all of her. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, settle for less, his need to touch no longer about tiring of her or freeing himself of this obsession, but about gratifying her.

“Amun,” she rasped, and the sound of his name on those pleasure-giving lips nearly undid him. “You…you stopped. Why did you stop?”

Amun. She’d called him Amun. He lifted his head and peered down at her. Her mouth was red, swollen and glistening with moisture. Her tongue flicked out to capture the lingering flavor of him. His shaft throbbed in response, desperate to feel the clench of her inner walls.

Her hands rested on his shoulders, her nails already cutting. He was panting, sweating despite the cool breeze wafting from her.

“What’s wrong?”

You always called me “baby” when you thought I was… Micah. Just then, he had trouble even thinking the loathsome name. The scope of his understanding extended to Haidee and only Haidee. Besides being a Hunter, the bastard had held her, tasted her, and while Amun knew he was being irrational, he despised every man who’d ever had this pleasure. His pleasure. Yet you call me by my name, he finished darkly.

Her expression softened, illuminating the delicacy of her features. “The only person I’ve ever called baby is you.”

Well, okay, then. That was acceptable. He reclaimed her mouth in a rush. Their tongues rolled together, taking, giving, their teeth scraping. Hands began roaming, every new touch increasing their fervency. He cupped her breasts, her nipples beading under his palm, and he moaned.

“I wish they were bigger,” she said between licks.

Her breasts? Why?

“Men like bigger.”

Someone had made her self-conscious, he realized, and he wanted to kill that someone. This man likes these. He squeezed. They were small, as she’d implied, but firm and wonderfully tipped. And they truly were the sweetest little morsels, as he had implied. They’re perfect.

In fact…he whipped her shirt over her head and ripped the front clasp of her bra. The backpack would provide her with another one. As the material sagged apart, he caught a glimpse of nipples the prettiest shade of pink he’d ever seen.

You’re so beautiful. He sounded drugged, didn’t care.

“Th-thank you.”

He bent his head and sucked one of the little pearls harder than he’d intended. A gasp escaped her, but she didn’t push him away. No, she tangled her fingers in his hair and held him against her.

He switched his attention from one to the other, laving them equally until goose bumps broke out over her skin. Until her belly quivered in anticipation every time he moved. Until breathy groans were falling from her lips, interwoven with his name, with pleas for mercy—for more.

Amun hadn’t had a lover in a very long time, but he hadn’t forgotten the basics, and he’d never been so driven by instinct. Touch, taste, possess, own. He could have been a virgin, and he would have found a way to please this woman, because making her come wasn’t simply a desire. Making her come was a necessity.

Her pleasure was his pleasure, and that’s just the way it was.

Touch…taste…yes, taste. He straightened, meshing their lips. He had to taste her again.

He wanted to go slowly, to savor every inch of her. To learn what she liked, what she didn’t. But just as before, with a single kiss and a few caresses, the passion between them went nuclear. Those roaming hands clutched, nails scraped. He rubbed his erection between her legs, and she arched into every slide.

After everything she’d told him, he felt as if he could lose her at any moment. As if someone would take her from him, and she would wake up in that cave in Greece, unable to remember him or this kiss.

They were both shirtless, and when her breasts brushed his chest, he hissed out a breath. The kiss never slowed, their tongues continually rolling, seeking, demanding. Possess…own… He cupped her ass and slammed her against him, the rubbing becoming a frantic seeking. A fever.

No, not a fever. His blood was on fire, true, racing through his veins with a swiftness that would have killed a lesser man, but the woman he held was becoming colder with every second that passed. Her skin was like ice, her mouth the storm, and as he sucked on her tongue, that icy storm filled him.

The demons had been hiding in the back of his mind, afraid to make themselves known. Now they shrieked, her touch affecting them as if they’d just been hooked to an electric generator. Each one—and gods, there were hundreds—scrambled through his head, doing their best to avoid the renewing of Haidee’s pull…the unavoidable cold.

Finally the kiss slowed…slowed…and then Haidee leaned back. “Are you okay?” Soft knuckles stroked his cheek.

Just need…a moment… Amun closed his eyes and settled on his haunches, inhaling unhurriedly, exhaling with care. Every muscle in his body was locked in a desperate tug-of-war with his bones, lancing thousands of aches through every part of him. All at the same time. From the demons, yes, but also from unfulfilled desire. He hadn’t been ready to stop.

“My internal thermometer gets the better of me sometimes. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to—I could feel it… I’m sorry,” she said again, a trace of misery in her tone. “I’ll control it, I promise.”

No apologies, he told her. You did nothing wrong. Besides, I like it.

He wasn’t sure why the demons were calmed by her one moment, then roused by her the next. He wasn’t sure how she pulled on them or why they reacted that way, but he would puzzle over the answer later. With the distance between him and Haidee—minute though it was—the heat returned to him and the demons ceased fighting so stringently. For the moment, that was enough.

Secrets, though, had remained unaffected throughout the entire ordeal. Amun didn’t think his soul-companion had liked the change in temperature, but the beast hadn’t been—and still wasn’t, because yes, Amun planned to have another go at his woman—screeching in fear. His woman.

The phrase delighted him in a way he never would have expected. But she was. His. In every way that mattered—and soon in every way imaginable. His friends wouldn’t understand. Might even hate him, might consider him a traitor. He couldn’t make himself care. Just then, her well-being came before his own.

The change in his mind-set was radical, even to him, and he wasn’t quite used to it yet. That didn’t lessen the impact, though. He’d held her in his lap, listened to her story of loss, had heard the heartbreak in her voice, and something inside him had broken. He’d begun to comprehend the truth. They were alike in so many ways. Determined, constantly bombarded by the worst the world had to offer—people, places, circumstances—yet finding joy where they could.

He wanted this woman. Would have her. And yeah, maybe he was driven purely by desire right now, convincing himself of feelings he wouldn’t normally entertain to ease the shame of being with the enemy, but he didn’t think so.

“Maybe it’s best that we stopped,” she whispered on a trembling breath. “I—I still can’t sleep with you.”

Amun’s eyelids sprang open, and he knew flickers of firelight showcased the dark menace in his eyes. Because of him? he demanded.

“Yes. I won’t cheat.”

He popped his jaw. When did you last sleep with him? With every new word, there had been an increase of rage in his voice.

“I didn’t. Not once.”

The rage vanished in a blink. Had she said yesterday, he would have wanted her still—he doubted anything could change that—but knowing Micah hadn’t touched her in that way stoked his new sense of possession. When you dated him, you thought he was me, he reminded her.

“Yes.”

Amun gripped her hips, urged her forward and rubbed against her. Then you are cheating on me by staying true to him.

She moaned, her eyelids drifting to half-mast. When he forced her to steady, she nibbled on her bottom lip, white teeth sinking deep. “Maybe I am, but there’s still a note of dishonesty there. So, no sex. Not until I tell him we’re over. But…”

But Amun could kiss her, she was saying. The rage returned full-force. Kissing is a form of cheating, Haidee. He knew how he would react if he caught her kissing another man. Blood would flow.

Her shoulders sagged, her expression suddenly tortured. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I know you’re right. You just make me so…hot. We’ll stop, then. For good. Until—just until.”

Break up with him in your mind. Now.

“In my heart and in my mind, he and I are done already. But I have to tell him, Amun. He deserves to know. I know you won’t believe me, but he’s a good man.”

Amun had just realized he would do anything to protect this woman, even give up life as he knew it, simply to be with her. Yet she couldn’t let go of an old boyfriend for him. Not completely. While part of him admired such loyalty, the other part wanted that loyalty directed only at himself.

No sex, she’d said, and now, because of what he’d said, no kissing, either. Well, then, by the gods, he would do everything else. Scowling, he caught her by the back of her knees and jerked, tossing her to her back. She landed on the flower petals, their softness cushioning the blow. Before she could suck in a breath, he was atop her, shoving her legs apart and fitting himself against her.

Don’t cheat me, Haidee. Don’t cheat me. Please.

She groaned, as if in pain, and then she settled.

“I—I—maybe I’m a terrible person, but I need you to kiss me. Please.”

Not terrible. Perfect. In that moment, he found he could deny her nothing. So, kiss her? Yes, even though he’d thought to balance the scale. Their mouths met in a frenzied tangle, licking, sucking, biting. As promised, she kept her temperature under control. Still cold, but never freezing. How she did so, he didn’t know. And he didn’t like that she couldn’t let go completely, that she had to remain guarded.

When this was over, he vowed, when he’d gotten rid of the demons inside him, he would have her. All of her. The cold and every inch of her luscious body. Even her heart. He would shield his own, of course—wanting her, needing her, that was fine, but he would be owned by no one—but by gods, he absolutely would have hers.

He unsnapped her jeans and kicked them down her legs…off. She didn’t protest, didn’t try to stop him. She trusted him not to cross the line she had drawn. Again he found himself torn, liking that she trusted him, hating that she didn’t crave more from him despite everything against them, as he did. Hating that she had him addicted to her, but didn’t seem to be addicted to him.

Well, he would just have to change that.

Amun kissed and nibbled his way to her breasts and once again laved her nipples. When she was writhing, hips lifting, greedy for a touch, any touch, he worked his way to her navel. There, he tormented her with fleeting, gentle bites while his fingers toyed with the band of her panties, at her waist, around her thighs, but never stroking where she needed him most.

“Amun…baby…please.”

Begging now. Good, that was good. What he’d wanted. Yet, his body ached with such unfulfilled desire, he wasn’t sure he would live through this encounter. Sweat beaded on his brow, his skin pulled taut and consuming need blistered him inside and out.

I’m going to taste you again. Take you to the end this time. Finally he kissed her between her legs, flicking his tongue against the damp fabric of her panties.

Her hips shot up, and she cried out uninhibitedly. “Yes!”

You’re going to give me everything.

“Ye—no.” She undulated, seeking more of his mouth. “I can’t.”

I know. But soon.

“Soon. Yes, soon.”

With that promise ringing in his ears, he ripped the material away and feasted on her. At the first true glide of his tongue, she screamed with absolute abandon. He tasted her femininity and those frosted apricots he’d scented the night they met. He’d thought himself on fire before, but this…this burned him alive.

His cock filled to the point of bursting, and he ground himself into the hard floor, pumping as if he were already inside his woman. She tugged at his hair, not to pull him away but to urge him on.

He licked inside her, feeling those tight walls close around his tongue. He sucked and swallowed, laved and flicked at her clitoris. Soon she wasn’t just writhing, she was making love to his mouth, moving against him, legs finding their way to his shoulders, heels digging into his back.

Hands over your head, he commanded, and he was immensely glad he could speak into her mind, that he didn’t have to stop what he was doing.

“Wh-why?”

Do it.

Hesitantly she released him and drew her arms high.

Clasp the rock behind you.

This time she obeyed without question.

Don’t let go. He grabbed her thighs, lifted, and twisted her so that she faced the ground. Twisted himself, too, ramming himself beneath her, but still between her legs. Her body fell back on him, her core directly over his face. Her grip on the rock kept her from smashing face-first into the petals, but didn’t save her from the increase of pressure his mouth caused as his tongue sank deeper than before.

“Oh, God. Amun!” Tremors rocked her, vibrating into him.

So wet. So perfect.

“Amun. Please, more, need, want.”

With one hand, he clasped her hip. With the other, he stroked his cock. And as he worked her, he worked himself, pretending they were making love. She pumped against him, up and down, her essence all over his face, and he matched her with the movement of his hand.

So damned good. Had he ever experienced something this good? Impossible.

“Hurry! Have to…almost…need…”

Him. She only needed him. He released her hip and reached under her, never ceasing his carnal attentions. On either of them. Feverish, he impaled her with two fingers.

Tight. She was so tight. And as he slammed those fingers deep, so deep, she convulsed around him, pulling him even deeper.

“There!” she shouted, the climax razing her voice as every muscle she possessed clamped down, trying to hold him inside.

Feeling her spasm around him sent him over the edge. He erupted, hot seed jetting onto his stomach. And when the last of the shudders left her, when the last drop of come was squeezed from him, she rose on her knees, panting, severing that intimate contact. They moaned in unison at the loss.

She scooted down his chest and collapsed atop him. Though his first thought was to clean them both, he couldn’t bring himself to move her. His arms wound around her, and he held on, knowing he would never be able to let her go.

His head was (somewhat) clear, so he couldn’t blame desire for the possessiveness. She was his. Now…always.