The Darkest Warrior by Gena Showalter
Her first thought: Yes! Finally!
Her second: He wants me so bad.
As her mind whirled and her body wept with relief, William's irises glowed red with menace. "I hope you like three-ways, Pucky, because I'll be throwing myself into the mix."
"You can try," Puck said, his jaw clenched.
"Uh, guys? I need you to..." What? Kiss each other and make up?
Mmm. Now, wouldn't that be nice?
To her surprise, Puck stood and stalked away without uttering another word. True to form, he never looked back.
Peanut, the traitor, leaped up to trail after him.
She wanted to do the same, but consoled herself with the silver-medal choice and glared at William.
"What?" he demanded. "What'd I do wrong?"
"Stop flirting with me in front of Puck. And stop antagonizing him. I'm not going to sleep with you, William. I'm not going to cheat on my husband." Her dreams of dating other guys had gone up in flames the moment she'd first entertained the idea, whether she'd known it or not.
"He's your temporary husband. There's a difference. And I'm not asking you to cheat on him."
"What are you asking me to do, then?"
"What else?" He spread his arms wide. "Give a suitor a proper kiss. What? What's that look? Kissing isn't cheating. It's one friend helping another friend refill her lungs. Kissing is survival."
"If you believe that, I feel sorry for your true ladylove." Just to be mean, because yes, Gillian had developed a wee bit of a cruel streak, she added, "Whoever she happens to be."
As he studied her face, perhaps searching for weaknesses in her resolve, he appeared flabbergasted, as if he'd never known rejection--of any kind--and had no idea what had just happened. He opened his mouth, closed it. Opened, closed.
Finally he settled on, "Your strong moral code turns me on."
"Please. A gentle wind turns you on."
"I want you," William said, and this time his tone had a little bite.
"Okay, say I wanted you back. How would we spend our life together?"
"I would war with Lucifer, you would tend my wounds. As before."
Ugh. "You think that would be enough for me?"
Crystalline eyes aglow, he said huskily, "Every moment in between, we would spend in bed."
Still. Not. Enough. "And if I wanted to fight at your side?"
"We'd...negotiate."
Meaning he would try to talk her into staying home. Old Gillian would have thrilled. New Gillian wanted to gag.
"Explain why you want me, specifically," she said. "Why you would come here for me. Why you would help Puck, just to free me from the bond. I have a vague memory of overhearing some of the Lords talking about how you were waiting for my eighteenth birthday to claim me. More vividly I remember you telling me that you would never fall in love or get married."
He tugged on the end of her thickest braid, a playful action that belied the growing strain in his expression. "From the beginning, I knew there was something different about you. I fought it. I told myself I wouldn't do anything with you, no matter how old you were, or weren't. But deep down I knew the moment you were ready, I would pounce. Then Puck took you away, and I felt as if I'd lost..."
"What? Your favorite toy?"
"Everything."
The single word hit her like a punch in the sternum. Her ribs seemed to crack, acid leaking out. For a moment, she said nothing. She couldn't. She hoped his intensity would lessen and he'd crack a joke. He didn't.
If he'd truly desired her, if he'd considered Gillian his fated mate, why hadn't he eschewed other women and waited for her?
He should have waited for her.
"William--"
"No. Don't say anything. Not until the bond is severed."
Was he right? Would her desire for Puck really fade? If so, would she want William in her bed--her body? Right now, she couldn't imagine wanting anyone but her husband.
A muscle jumped under his eye once, twice. "If you feel like you must be with him, go, be with him. Sow your wild oats. Get him out of your system." Staring up at the heavens, he said in a quieter tone, "I deserve this, I really do."
"I'm not doing this to punish you," she said, then frowned. She didn't owe him an explanation, or excuse. "I will sow my oats, and not because you permit it."
Had the circumstances reversed, Puck wouldn't tell her to get another man out of her system. No, he would keep his promise to kill anyone she even thought about dating. Because he wanted her passion all to himself. Clearly!
Touch me again, and I'll press you into the sand and slam inside you.
Decadent shivers, irresistible heat.
Get a grip!
"Just...take a cold shower tonight," she said. "Then kiss and make up with Puck, okay?" Oh, good gracious, that image again! Hubba hubba. "And make sure I'm there to serve as witness." She pressed her hands together to form a steeple. "Please, please, a thousand times please."
He tsk-tsked, his intensity lessening the slightest bit. "Cold showers are a myth. No man has ever taken one. We're more inclined to take hot showers, and exercise a bicep with a repeated up and down motion. If we can't find a suitable replacement for whoever left us swollen and needy."
"Then do that," she said, and waved her hand in a shooing motion.
"Which one? The shower or the replacement?"
"Either. Both."
"Harsh, woman. Harsh." He flattened his hand against his chest, right above his heart. "One day you'll want me to yourself, forever and always."
There went her amusement. "I'm sorry, William, but--"
"No, don't say anything you'll regret."
As the back of her neck prickled with awareness, perhaps anticipation, she scanned the crowd--and thrilled. Puck hadn't left the party, after all. Or if he had, he'd returned. He stood on the fringes, shrouded by shadows. Did he watch her?
Heart fluttering, she stood before she realized she'd moved. "Stay here and have fun, Liam. I might or might not be back."
"I might or might not be counting the seconds." William blew her a kiss before flipping off Puck.
Noticed him, too, had he?
Gillian hurried over. Just before she reached Puck, he turned on his heel and strode away. This time, she followed.
Rosaleen stepped into her path, stopping her. "Your friend. The one with baby blues. You didn't tell me he was the most beautiful man in creation. Is he single?"
"Very." Gillian looked around her. No sign of Puck. Dang it!
The general fanned her flushed cheeks. "Mind if I make a move?"
"Not even a little." If anything, Rosaleen would be doing her a favor, keeping William occupied.
Johanna came over and slung an arm around Rosaleen's shoulders. "Did you ask about the blue-eyed devil?"
"Single," the other woman replied with a wide grin.
The two high-fived.
"What about the horned one?" Johanna wiggled her brows. "You're done with him, right?"
Gillian stiffened, happy one moment, ready to commit murder the next. "He's still married. To me."
Both women paled as they held up their hands, palms out, all innocence, and backed away.
"Whoa, whoa," Rosaleen said. "No reason to Hulk-out."
"I'm not going to touch him, honest," Johanna said.
Deep breath in, out. "Sorry," Gillian muttered. "Look, I've got to go." She darted around her friends, searching, searching...if she couldn't find Puck through natural means, she'd have to use magic.
With the coming journey, she would much rather hoard magic. Wait! There. Strange prints, the tread unequally distributed, as if a hoof-shaped weight had worn down the sole's center. Natural means for the win!
She trailed him to...her house. Excitement making her limbs weak, she shut and locked the door.
Puck occupied the living room, his back to her as he walked around, examining the many weapons that hung on the walls. Did he understand she'd taken them as trophies, or did he doubt he
"Where is Peanut?" she asked.
"In the barn, resting."
A sudden thought struck her. How had Puck found her house? She hadn't shown him, and none of her soldiers would share her location without permission.
Tracked me, the way I tracked him, his desires too strong to be denied?
Shivers cascading down her spine, she said, "Why are you here?"
"We're married. I believe I've already informed you of our shared assets. What's yours is mine, and I wanted to see the inside of my new home." His tone was as emotionless as ever, but when he turned to face her--his gaze burned.
What's more? "You're still hard." The words rushed from her, as unstoppable as a freight train.
He raised his chin, as if proud. "Partway, at least."
"You mean it gets bigger?" she asked, suddenly breathless.
He might have smirked. "A lot bigger."
Definitely smirked. "Is it...for me?" Please, please be for me. "Or for all the beauties at the feast?"
"I don't want those other women..." He roved his gaze over her breasts--her aching breasts--and between her legs, where she now throbbed. Then he added, "To die when you throw another jealous fit."
Who? What? How? Me? "As if you have room to talk! You were ready to murder William, the man you need to win your crown."
His nostrils flared. "This is true."
Wait. He'd just copped to his jealousy?
"I told myself I'd stay away," he continued, "that I'd avoid the cut of the sword, yet here I am, only a few short hours later, willing to deal with the complications and fallout. What do you think that says about me, lass? No, stay silent. Do not answer. I'll tell you what it says."
As her entire world seemed to pivot on its axis, he cupped his groin and grated, "Yes, this is for you. I want only you."
23
Puck's words echoed in Gillian's mind. Avoid the cut of a sword--that's how he saw her? A sword? Stay silent--how dare he issue such a command! Only you--her knees wobbled.
Then he stiffened, and she wanted to screech, because she knew what would happen next. He'd go cold.
"If you turn into Ice Man right now, I'll poison your next meal," she said.
Looking like the very definition of detached, he winged up a brow. "Keep acting like a shrew, and I'll willingly eat it."
Shrew? How dare he?!
Gillian stalked closer, certain she was a bomb--with a rapid countdown clock. But, as their gazes remained intertwined, neither challenger willing to glance away, her inhalations became his exhalations, and she realized they were breathing each other's air. Anger morphed into arousal.
Tremors ruined her attempt to appear unaffected. Tremors, and her ever-hardening nipples. Probably the passion-fever flushing her skin, as well.
Have gone so long without his touch. Need it.
As if he'd read her mind--and was more than happy to oblige--he jolted into action. Moving too quickly to track, he clasped her by the hips, backed her against the wall, and flattened his palms next to her temples. As his big body caged her in, the scent of masculine carnality enveloped her, and she felt her lids go heavy.
His muscular frame seemed to swell before her eyes. Suddenly he was bigger, stronger. Veins bulged as if he could barely hold himself in place--as if aggression filled him to the brim. The look he gave her...ravenous.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, and oh, she sounded eager. Already too turned on to care.
"I'm putting you where I want you."
Well, thank goodness for that. She liked where he wanted her. "So you do, in fact, desire me? You haven't reverted to the Ice Man?"
"I think the beast between my legs answers both questions, lass."
Her mouth curled up at the corners. "Did the king of apathy just crack a joke?"
"He merely spoke the truth." As he toyed with the ends of her hair, he tickled her scalp. "I used to summon ice to prevent punishment from the demon. Now I do it to protect us all. You should be grateful for it. If I did even half of the things I'm imagining..."
Summon the ice, he'd said. He truly froze his emotions? How? Magic?
"What kind of punishment?" The weakness he'd once mentioned? "And protect us all from what?" she asked, then the rest of his words registered and she shivered. What did he imagine doing to her?
His eyes narrowed, and he stiffened.
All right. He could keep his secrets. For now. "Sometimes you thaw, though. I've seen it."
A nod. "The ice doesn't melt on its own. I require an outside source to make me feel something hot. Like rage."
"Or desire." Desperate for contact with him, needing to gauge his degree of arousal, she placed her hand just over his heart. Hot skin, like molten gold poured over granite. Racing heartbeat.
His desperation matches mine. The knowledge sent feminine power rushing through her.
He took her by the wrist and lifted her hand--pinned her arm above her head. "Touching the bird tattoo is--"
"Off-limits." Yes, she remembered. "Why?"
"Because I said so."
Fair enough. Again, for now. Later... "What if, one day, you stop feeling entirely and remain the Ice Man?"
"I've often wondered the same, but right now I cannot imagine being in a deep freeze ever again." He brushed the tip of his nose against hers. "You are no longer afraid of intimacy."
"No."
"The strength you needed to overcome your past traumas. The strength you need. I'm in awe of you, lass."
Those words... Groaning, she undulated to rub her core against his massive erection. "So you've got me where you want me, warrior, and you're in total awe of me. Whatever are you going to do with me?" How she found the wits to speak, she wasn't sure. Want more. Need it.
He hissed, his grip flexing on her wrist. "I'm going to have you. I'm also going to let you go one day soon."
Were the words a promise or a warning? Did he hope to frighten or entice her? Like, Hey baby, you don't have to worry about me becoming a clingy stalker because I'm going to bail ASAP.
"Wrong. I'm going to have you," she said, "and let you go one day soon." I won't be used and abused. I'll hump and dump.
Something dark and primal flashed over his expression. "You are mine. Say it."
He could dish it, but not eat it? "I'm--" she hesitated, giving anticipation a chance to build inside him "--my own."
Was that thick, drugged tone really hers?
Well, why not? She'd wanted this man for centuries. And now, here he was, hers for the taking. They were so close they actually shared space. So close she could feel passion-currents rushing along his skin.
Any time she inhaled, her nipples brushed against his chest, sparking heat and friction. Any time she exhaled, her hips arched of their own accord, seeking more contact, more friction.
Puck took her face in his hand, his thumb on one side of her chin, his fingers on the other. An aggressive hold, and yet, still she wasn't afraid. "If you will not tell me you are mine, you'll show me."
He didn't wait for her response, but released the arm he'd pinned overhead to squeeze her ass with splayed fingers--covering as much ground as possible--at the same time swooping down to claim her mouth. This wasn't an easy exploration but a fierce demand. A stamp of ownership unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Between sensuous forays of his tongue, he massaged the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat.
Waited so long for this. The sweetness of his flavor maddened her. He was a drug. Her drug. All masculine heat and hardness, devastating her senses. Little mewling sounds escaped her as she wrapped her arms around him and rocked her core against him, again and again, unable to stop the motion. Every new collision with his erection made her hotter, wetter.
More. I need more. Five hundred years of frustration had turned her wanton. Or maybe Puck had done the honors? "Touch me. Touch me now," she demanded.
"Tell me where."
"Inside. Go for gold now, savor later."
"Inside," she insisted.
"What if I wish to play with your breasts first, hmm?" He reached under her leather halter to knead a breast and toy with a nipple.
"Please, Puck. Please."
"The warrioress pleads with me now. She is needful." With his free hand, he delved under the hem of her leather skirt. "Very well. You'll get what you're begging for."
As his fingers skimmed her inner thigh, she clawed at his back, probably drawing blood. So good!
"Between your legs...like this?" One of those exploring fingers edged closer to her core, only to dart away just before contact.
He teased her? Now? Different impulses hit her, one after the other. Free his erection, and grind. Walk away, leaving him aching for all the centuries he'd spent away from her. For this! Throw him down and ravish him.
"Do it," she commanded. "Feed me your fingers."
He obeyed, those naughty fingers shoving her panties aside, parting her and driving into her aching core.
With a voice like smoke dusted gravel, he said, "You are soaked for me."
Gillian's knees gave out entirely; if not for the hand pressed between her legs, the heel of Puck's palm rubbing against her little bundle of nerves while his fingers probed, she would have fallen and...and... "Don't stop! Please, don't stop."
He thrust a second finger deep inside her, and she went off like a rocket. Just like that. Just boom, finished. Finally! "Yes, yes, yes!" The most sublime pleasure exploded inside her, leaving no part of her unaffected. And he wasn't done! As she came apart, he continued thrusting those fingers, scissoring them to stretch her before feeding her a third, prolonging her climax--enriching it.
A scream fled past her lips, but he swallowed the sound and deepened the kiss. Good thing. He possessed the oxygen she needed.
William was right. Kisses were survival.
Inner walls clenched and unclenched. Her mind fogged, derailing her thoughts. Languid heat stole through her, a thief in the night, stealing all reason, leaving her limp and gloriously satisfied.
But the satisfaction didn't last long. Gillian only wanted more. More Puck. More passion. More contentment. Nothing compared. One orgasm wasn't enough. She desperately needed another. She needed sex. Now. Right now. No more waiting.
Except, when she reached for the waist of his pants, he lifted his head to meet her gaze, his irises bright and wild, set ablaze, and she stilled. With his tangled black hair, he looked as crazed as she felt. Crazed, and hauntingly beautiful. Flawless of form and face. Absolute male perfection--a man transfixed by a woman. Needful of her, and her alone. No others would do.