The Darkest Night Page 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

 

  Maddox gripped Ashlyn under her arms and lifted her off the floor. He tore the center of her bra apart with his teeth. The buttery material ripped easily and fell open, revealing the sexiest pair of breasts he'd ever seen.

  They were a little fuller than a handful, with rosy-tipped nipples begging to be sampled. He couldn't hold back a moment longer. Everything inside him cracked, needing contact. Beyond desperate.

  He sucked one hard bud into his mouth, surrounding it with hot, wet intensity. Ashlyn moaned. She threw back her head and arched toward him, a plea for more. He let his tongue dabble, flicking back and forth, then sampled the other one, giving it the same treatment.

  His blood burned for more, but he set her back on her feet and pushed her toward the sink. Soon. Without a word, he handed her the toothbrush he'd acquired for her earlier and claimed his own. He wanted to be perfect for her.

  She appeared dazed, wobbly, as she stared at it in confusion. Slowly her cheeks pinkened in embarrassment. Why? They brushed their teeth and used the mouthwash in silence. Afterward, Ashlyn stood in front of the mirror, gripping the sink as if she didn't know what to do next and was afraid to ask.

  "Off," he said, pinching the top of her panties. "Please. "

  She appeared nervous as she slid them over her hips and stepped out of them.

  Gods. He nearly crumpled to the floor in a blubbering, thankful heap. A small triangle of honey-colored hair, deliciously rounded thighs. Nostrils flaring at the beauty of her, he once again picked her up. This time, however, he placed her inside the tub and pulled the curtain around them. She gasped when the water hit her, and then she groaned in ecstasy as the heat pounded gently at her skin. He wished he had caused that groan.

  Soon, he promised himself again. Soon.

  He stepped in behind her. She was already soaked, hair plastered to the elegant slope of her back. Her bottom was perfectly curved, full enough to overflow in his hands. He liked that, liked that she wasn't skin and bones.

  "So lovely," he said, but doubt suddenly filled him. Should he turn her around, or hold her like this? Should he lay her down or let her stand? His first shower with a woman, and he wasn't exactly sure of the best way to go about it.

  Mine. Do. . . everything.

  As instinct and thousands of years of fantasies took over, he closed all hint of distance between them and rubbed his erection in the crevice of her ass. She gave a shuddering gasp. He reached around her and grabbed the pine-scented bar of soap he used every morning to wash away the lingering effects of his midnight trials.

  She tried to turn around, to face him, but he locked her in place by resting his chin on top of her head. At first she stiffened. Gradually, though, she relaxed against him. He was already on edge and didn't want to push himself too far. Yet. He barely had a hold on the spirit as it was; it seemed to want to jump out of his body and touch her itself.

  "You were made for sex, weren't you?" he purred into her ear. He laved the delicate shell with his tongue.

  "I guess we'll find out," she replied on a trembling breath.

  She'd been made for him, really. More perfect Bait could not have been chosen. If she'd been sent to distract him, she was succeeding. If she'd been sent to learn about him and his friends, well, she'd succeeded in that, too. He'd told her more than he'd ever told another.

  If she'd been sent to punish him, well, she'd done that, too. He'd never been more ashamed of himself. He should be anywhere but here right now, should be doing anything else. Instead, he was here. Was going to make love with Ashlyn. And he didn't care about the consequences.

  Arms still banded around her shoulders, he lathered his hands. He set the soap on its perch and began the slow - really slow - process of cleaning her from head to toe. His soapy fingers snaked around her nipples, along the soft curve of her hips, on the sweet roundness of her belly.

  She gave another of those groans, the sound eager and this time just for him. Her head fell onto his shoulder in open invitation, an action that said, Do with me what you will.

  "Do you like having someone clean you?" he asked.

  "Yes. "

  "Are you still dirty?"

  "Yes. "

  "Where?"

  "Everywhere," was the raspy answer.

  He almost smiled. Almost. His desire was too dark for humor. Except blended with the darkness was wonder and awe.

  His touch was rougher than he'd intended as he soaped her arms. She didn't seem to mind. He could see that she'd closed her eyes and was nibbling on her bottom lip, breathy little sighs emerging every few seconds.

  "Have you ever showered with a man before?" Soap in hand, he dropped to his knees.

  She stilled. Whispered, "No. "

  He was glad. They would discover the pleasures of it together. Even before the demon had become part of him, he had not shown much tenderness to females. He had taken them quickly even then. They had been a pleasant convenience, nothing more. Something he'd wanted but had not needed.

  After the curse, affection became more unthinkable. He'd always feared the spirit would show itself if he lingered over a female. Only then had he realized how precious time was, how he should have enjoyed his life when he'd had the chance.

  He'd never been more afraid of the spirit than he was right now, but he didn't let it stop him from lingering this time, from savoring. Enjoying. He was too hard, too rough for most to handle, but he vowed not to be that way with Ashlyn.

  I will control myself, whatever it takes. I will control the spirit. He kissed the curve of Ashlyn's lower back, then licked his way up several of her vertebra.

  "Hmm," she gasped. "I - I like that. "

  He liked it, too.

  He liked everything about her.

  After soaping her calves and thighs and biting the inside of his cheek to keep from biting her, he washed the suds from his hands. Unable to resist a moment more, he inserted two fingers into the very heat of her.

  "Oh. Oh!" She jumped away from his erotic touch, but quickly leaned back against him, spreading her legs wider, silently asking for more.

  The lather had been slick, and now, so was she. He stroked her, gently pinched her swollen core. A shiver rocked her. "Like it still?" he asked. Tension beat through him.

  Take her. Take her now.

  "Love it. I love it," she chanted.

  He pumped deep, as deep as he could go. She gasped out his name.

  "Tight," he said through clenched teeth. He almost thought he felt. . . No, surely not. "Hot. "

  "Good. Feels good. "

  Any moment now, he would be consumed by flames - flames hotter than the ones he battled in hell. He was shaking, more than before. He was hard, achingly hard. He was poised and ready for attack.

  If he reacted this strongly to filling her with his fingers, what would he do when he filled her with his cock?

  Don't stop. Can't stop. Grinding his teeth, he worked another finger inside of her, stretching her. . . and that's when he could no longer deny the barrier that marked her as virgin. His lips pulled down in a tight glower. His head tilted to the side and he found himself staring between her legs in confusion.

  Virgin? Surely not. She was a grown woman. But the barrier could not be refuted.

  He withdrew from her and stood. He didn't touch her again, just looked her up and down. Like him, she was trembling.

  A thousand thoughts tumbled through his fevered mind. How could so beautiful a woman still be a virgin? And why would Hunters send an inexperienced woman to tempt him?

  She wouldn't know how.

  Why would the gods send a virgin to punish him? Would that not simply punish the virgin?

  Obviously confused by his sudden withdrawal, Ashlyn craned her neck until her eyes met his. Pleasure and pain warred for dominance on her lovely features. "Did I do something wrong?"

  He shook his head, not yet ready to speak. Possessiveness was shooting through hi
s every cell. No man had ever penetrated her. No man had ever tasted her sweetness.

  "Why did you stop, then?" She turned to face him fully and he saw that her nipples were hard, rosy and wet. They reached for him, begging. . . begging. . .

  He'd been about to take her virginity and he'd never even kissed her, he realized. Any woman, even Bait, even divine punishment, deserved better than that. And right now, he didn't believe she was either.

  But she'd been out in that forest last night and four Hunters had been following her. The two situations were connected, he was certain of it, but now he thought - what? Could Ashlyn have been their target?

  If so, why? She didn't hold a demon inside her; he would have sensed it. Wouldn't he? He didn't know anymore. Didn't know anything except that he wanted this woman with every fiber of his being. Had since the first moment he'd seen her. Something about her affected him deeply. Affected the spirit, even.

  "Maddox?"

  He badly wanted to take her virginity, but he wasn't going to. Not today. Not when she'd been sick only hours before. Not when he wasn't sure how he'd react to being inside her - and being her first. She would be a first for him, too. He'd never taken a virgin before. He would have to find the best way to go about it, the best way to keep Violence contained. The spirit would relish causing Ashlyn even momentary pain. Wouldn't it? He might have to chain himself.

  As for now. . .

  He backed her against the cool tile. Her eyes rounded, those big beautiful brown eyes. Even though his lips had yet to heal fully, he kissed her. Her mouth opened in surprise, then widened in eagerness, welcoming his tongue. He thrust it inside, angling his head to go deeper, to take more, to feed her as much as she needed. Her flavor tantalized him, minty, feminine.

  There was another spark between them.

  She gasped, and he swallowed the sound. His chest flattened against her breasts, her nipples so hard they stabbed at his skin. He could feel the erratic hammer of her heartbeat.

  He bent his knees and pushed up, rubbing his erection against her. She gasped again. She shivered. Her hands tangled in his hair, gripping, pulling him closer. Their teeth banged together; the kiss continued. . . never stopped. . . lasted forever. . . a kiss of sorcery and dreams and fire.

  Yes, fire. There was so much fire. White-hot. Blistering. An inferno inside of him. He bit her lower lip, couldn't have stopped himself even if he'd wanted to, which he no longer did. A bead of blood leaked onto his tongue. He savored the metallic taste.

  Good, so good.

  She moaned and bit him back, returning the darkness of his passion with a fervor that surprised him. Gentle, calm. He gripped her cheeks and forced - gently, calmly - her head to the side. Licking and nipping his way down her jaw, her collarbone, was almost his undoing. Her skin was like a drug and one little taste beckoned him to take more, do more. Experience all.

  She arched against him, panting. She pulled back, panting still. She arched against him again. His erection probed between her legs, desperate to enter.

  No, not yet. Innocent, remember? She is innocent.

  Her teeth sank into his collarbone, and he almost came. Almost spilled then and there. She was wild, frantic for release. Her fingers moved to his back and squeezed, kneaded. Her nails scored his skin.

  He didn't think she was aware of her actions. Her head was thrashing from side to side and her eyes were closed. "I'll make you come," he told her, fighting for his own control.

  "Yes. Come. " She released him to grip her own breasts, to pinch the nipples between her fingers.

  He'd never seen a more erotic sight.

  "Just touch me," she commanded roughly. "Don't stop touching me. "

  "Will. Need. . . a moment. " He closed his fingers over his erection, knowing he'd spread her and take her if he didn't. He pumped once, twice. Hissed in a breath.

  "Maddox. Hurry!"

  "With my hands or mouth?" he asked, the words barely audible. The water was beating against her, slipping and sliding down her abdomen, daring him to follow and drink.

  "Wh-what?" She pried open her eyes, looking at him, looking at herself. When she realized what she was doing with her hands, she dropped her arms to her sides and blushed.

  "Should I touch you with my hands or my mouth?" He continued pumping his own hand down his swollen length, wishing it were her hand. Or her mouth. Her body.

  "Hands?"

  He didn't know a lot about humans, but he recognized her true desire. She wanted his mouth to finish her. He wanted it, too. The need probably embarrassed her; well, he would conquer that soon enough.

  He dropped to his knees a second time.

  "What are you doing?" she whispered, scandalized. In the undercurrents of her voice, however, were tendrils of excitement.

  Rather than answer, he licked her right where she needed him. It was something he'd wanted to do to a woman for years but hadn't dared risk, too afraid of Violence's reaction. In that moment, he was too enthralled to be afraid, and suddenly he was glad that he had waited. Ashlyn tasted of pure, innocent female. She tasted of honey. Passion and slick heat. Drugging, addicting. His.

  "Mouth," she gasped out. "Mouth. Changed my mind. "

  He licked her again and her belly quivered. She flattened her palms on the tile beside her, holding herself up. Her hips arched forward, seeking more of his tongue. He gave it to her. Spreading her with one hand and pumping his shaft with the other, he sucked on her hot center. She moaned, she undulated, she writhed.

  "More?" he asked.

  "More. Yes. Please. "

  She was close, so close. He could feel her rushing toward release, could taste the abundance of sweetness. Bite. The urge scared him. He stopped moving. She screamed in frustration, and he clamped his jaw in aroused pain.

  Droplets of water fell from his eyelashes onto his chin. He wanted to brush them away, to see her more clearly, but didn't want to move either of his hands. Air burned his throat, his lungs. "Tell me you want me. " While I calm down.

  "I want you," Ashlyn all but shouted. She stared down at him, as if she couldn't believe they were having this conversation here and now.

  "Tell me you need me. "

  "I need you. "

  "Tell me you'll never betray me. "

  "I'll never betray you. "

  At least she hadn't hesitated. Something inside him softened, melted. "Where do you want to be?" he asked, the words almost a plea. Need me as much as I need you.

  Maybe it was the water. Maybe it was the steam. Her eyes seemed to mist over, a curtain of vulnerability falling over her face. "With you," she replied. "Only with you. "

  Both man and spirit were staggered by the magic of her words. Humbled. Maddox again buried his face between her legs, tongue burrowing deeper than before. She sighed in ecstasy, one of her legs curling around his back. Her heel dug into his shoulder, but he didn't care. Even liked it.

  Her desire flowed down his throat as he nibbled on her. Couldn't stop himself now. Was helpless against his actions. He didn't want to hurt her, and neither did the spirit. For once in accord, both wanted only to pleasure her.

  She reached the edge. Fell. The orgasm rocked her entire body. Her inner walls clamped down on his tongue, holding him captive in those gates to heaven. And when she shouted his name, he came. Hot seed spurted from him and onto the tub. His body jerked, muscles gripping bone in an iron clasp. Nothing had ever felt so right. Nothing had ever felt so perfect.

  Seconds - minutes? hours? - passed. In that timeless eternity he became Pleasure. He wasn't a being ruled by Violence. He was simply a man who craved this woman. A man who lived in a world where light always stamped out darkness and good always conquered evil.

  If only. . .

  When he opened his eyes, he was once again Maddox. Once again a man ruled by darkness, living in a world where midnight always triumphed and evil laughed in the face of good.

  He was still on his knees. Ashlyn was still in
front of him. He could hear her panting rasps and realized he was panting himself. He stood, disconcerted to note his legs hadn't stopped shaking.

  Neither had Ashlyn's. Her eyelids were closed, lashes in wet spikes. There was a blissful, satisfied aura surrounding her, but he couldn't dislodge the sudden thought that he'd been too rough, that he could have been gentler. Tried harder.

  "Please look at me," he said.

  Like butterfly wings, her lashes fluttered open. Those amber orbs gazed up at him, and she nibbled on her bottom lip, expression uncertain. "Yes?"

  "Did I hurt you?" Worse, "Do you regret?"

  "No and no. " She smiled that radiant smile of hers, sunshine in the tenebrous recesses of night.

  "How are you still a virgin?" he asked, dazed.

  Slowly, her smile faded. Embarrassment clouded her eyes, darkening the brown to a churning black tempest. "I don't want to talk about it. "

  "Please. "

  She peered down at her feet, hiding the emotion, the storm. "I never should have told you to ask rather than demand. It's irresistible!"

  He would have to remember that.

  "Maybe I should have told you earlier, before we. . . But. . . "

  His stomach pitched. Should he want to hear her confession, whatever it was? Yes. Did he? No. Not now. He turned the water off and crowded her against the tile. He couldn't predict the spirit's reaction to being told this lushly beautiful creature had conspired against him. "Ashlyn - "

  "No," she said with a shake of her head. "Hear me out. Just promise not to hate me, okay, and try to understand that I can't help it. " Pause. Shuddering breath. "Here goes. You're not the only one possessed by something you can't control. I hear voices. When I stand in a spot where a conversation has taken place, I can hear every word that was uttered, no matter how much time has passed. " Her eyes landed anywhere but on him as she spoke.

  Maddox listened, shocked to the core. She hadn't admitted to Hunters or gods or a vendetta against him, but to voices. He knew, deep down, her words were not a lie. They were too complicated and too easily disproved; true Bait would have opted for something less refutable. More than that, what she described made sense, fitting several pieces of last night's puzzle together.

  Which meant she had tried to protect him earlier. Not for any ulterior motives, but because she had wanted to. Amazement flowed through him. Amazement and relief and joy.

  Now he understood why she hadn't been too brokenhearted when he'd admitting to killing those men. Most likely, she hadn't even known them. As he'd suspected, they could very well have hoped to capture her and use her ability to their advantage.

  His fingers itched for a knife; he wanted to kill them all over again. Calm down. They still could have worked for her Institute, and she simply hadn't realized it. No, that couldn't be right. They would have made themselves known to her, for they'd been close enough to hear and see her.

  "Why did you fear I would hate you?" he asked.

  "I hear secrets," she whispered. "It's hard to make friends, you know? The people who know what I can do want nothing to do with me and the people who don't know can't figure out how to deal with me. "

  The loneliness in her tone affected him deeply. He understood. But even he didn't like the thought of her knowing - hearing - the violent things he'd done over the years. "What secrets of mine have you heard?" He tried to keep his voice light, but didn't quite manage it.

  "None. I swear. " She gazed up at him with wide eyes. "When I'm around you, the world is silent. "

  She'd said that before. He recalled the expression on her face when he'd first approached her. Total bliss. She'd been savoring the silence, just as she'd claimed. The knowledge humbled and baffled him, yet underneath both emotions was an unshakable pride. He had helped her. He, who was unable to fight free of his own torment, had somehow released another from hers.

  "You said you hear secrets. What have you heard about us?"

  "I've already told you. Most townspeople consider you angels. Some consider you demons. But all of them are in awe of you. "

  "No plans to attack?"

  "Not that I heard. "

  "Good. " He splayed his hands around her waist, lifted and set her out of the tub. He climbed out beside her and palmed a towel from the cabinet. After wrapping it around her shoulders so that the material draped and warmed her, he grabbed one for himself.

  "Good? That's all you have to say to me?" she asked.

  "Yes. "

  Surprise caused her mouth to fall open. "Well, now that I've told you, I'd like to call my boss and let him know I'm okay. "

  Maddox shook his head. "I'm afraid that is not an option. No one can know you're here. For your safety, and for ours. "

  "But - "

  "It is not up for discussion. The answer is now and always no. "

  Her mouth worked open again, as if she meant to argue. But she merely said, "Fine. "

  From her tone, he knew it wasn't. She probably planned to hunt up a phone the moment he turned his back. Women. For the first time, he understood what Paris meant when he uttered the word like a curse. He sighed. "I swear to you, Ashlyn, this is the best course of action for all involved. "

  Turning away from him, she patted her arms dry. Her actions were a little too slow, a little too measured, as if her mind were far away.

  "What is wrong?"

  "Lots of things. I need to call my boss, and I'm going to the moment I find a phone. You can't stop me. "

  "That is - "

  Now she cut him off. "And even you, an immortal, have to think I'm weird after what I just told you, so I don't know why you're denying it. "

  He scrubbed the moisture out of his hair and wrapped the cloth around his neck. "You are not weird. I think you are beautiful, smart, courageous and most important, delicious. "

  She anchored the towel around her torso, blocking his view. "Really?"

  Insecurity that strong had to have been beaten into her. He scowled, determined to kill whoever had wielded the verbal fists. "Really. " Hands on her shoulders, he spun her around. Their gazes collided. "If you knew half the things that happen here, you - " He pressed his lips together. Damn, but he should not have said that.

  "You mean there's more than stabbings and resurrections?" she asked dryly.

  Much more.

  "So what are we going to do now?" She splayed her arms wide.

  Though he wished to spend the rest of the day with her, he knew that he could not. He still had duties, was still a warrior whose home needed to be defended, now more than ever. After ushering her into the bedroom, he dressed, gathered a shirt, boxers and a pair of sweatpants from the floor and tossed them at her. "Put these on. "

  She missed every single item and had to bend to pick them up. With every movement, the white towel rode up her thighs. His cock hardened. Again. It should have been tired, but no. Not with Ashlyn. She excited him despite, well, everything.

  "There are a few things I must do," he said, more to remind himself than in response to her question.

  "And you're taking me with you?" she asked, tightening her grip on the bundle.

  "Yes and no. "

  "What does that mean?"

  No sense in lying, he supposed. She would find out soon enough. "I'm locking you up with Danika while I do some. . . chores. That way, you will have company and there will be someone to tend you and call for me if you become sick again. "

  First a look of panic shuttered over her face. Then anger. Her brows arched and the tip of her tongue traced the outside of her lips. "One, there's no need to lock me up. I said I'd stay. And two, you're telling me Danika is locked up? She's a prisoner?" The last word emerged as a screech.

  "Yes. " Perversely, he hoped the affirmation would anger her further; he wanted to see that tongue again.

  "But, Maddox, you told me I was the first woman you had - "

  "I did not lock her up. Nor did I lie to you. Now, not another word. Please. " If she
asked him to release Danika, he would want to do it. He would want to go against the others and grant her request. "Get dressed, or I'll drag you from the room naked. "

  Silently, she studied him. Silently, she begged him to. . . what? He couldn't tell. He said nothing. He couldn't. Time was not his friend.

  "What is it going to be? Clothed or naked?"

  She scowled at him, her first real show of temper, and offered him a view of her back. Motions stiff and jerky, she allowed the towel to fall to the floor. Elegantly sloped back. . . rounded ass. . . His mouth watered.

  "I should fight you on this, but I'm not going to. Know why?" She didn't give him time to answer. "Not because you ordered it but because I'd like the chance to check on Danika. "

  She quickly dressed, and he should have been happy those luscious curves were covered. No one else would be able to see her; no one else would have the chance to enjoy the view. But that also meant he wouldn't see, and he wouldn't enjoy.

  "They're too big," she said, facing him.

  She was right. The clothes bagged on her, but Maddox thought she looked delectable. He knew what waited underneath that material. He knew what waited for his touch - and his alone. "They're all I have. For now, they'll have to do. "

  A thought arose. Torin had things delivered to a P. O. box all the time for Paris to pick up. Perhaps Maddox would have him order dresses like those he had seen on the television while watching one of those silly movies with Paris. Low cut. Maybe high heels, too, and some jewelry. And maybe the sexy - what did Paris call it? - lingerie Ashlyn had wished for.

  "We'll talk later," she said, stomping to his side. Not a question, he noticed, but a demand.

  "Yes?" He tried not to smile. "We will talk. "

  "You're going to answer all my questions. No evasions. " She stared up at him, eyes narrowed.

  Perhaps. "You had best behave while I'm gone. Remember how I told you it was dangerous to make me mad?"

  "What, you'll spank me if I'm a bad girl?"

  The provocative comment surprised him. Gods, where had this little firecracker come from? He'd seen her scared, shocked, sick, aroused, but not feisty like this. Amazingly, the spirit did not erupt at her defiance. Did not compel him to lash out. He thought perhaps it. . . No. Impossible.

  The spirit of Violence did not smile.

  "You don't want to know what I'll do," he said when he found his voice, "so do not tempt me. "

  She rose on her tiptoes, her warm breath fanning his ear. The hard peaks of her nipples abraded his chest. He waited, unable to breathe as he anticipated what she would do next. He might not know where the firecracker had come from, but he knew she excited him.

  "Maybe I like tempting you," she whispered. She bit his earlobe. "Think about that while I'm locked away. "

  He would. Oh, yes. He would.