Edge of Darkness (A Night Prowler Novel) Page 17

  From the living room, Asher shouted, “Five minutes!”

  Ember blew out a heavy breath. She muttered, “I should probably go do something about that.”

  Christian propped himself up on his elbow and stared down at her, his green gaze penetrating. “Does that mean I’m staying?”

  She tried to slip out of his arms to stand up, but he held her there, too strong to bother fighting, and grasped her chin. “Does it?” he murmured.

  In a barely audible voice she asked, “Do you want to stay?”

  His brows drew together, and for a moment he looked almost angry. “Why do you ask me questions you already know the answer to, little firecracker?”

  Pinned in the intensity of his gaze, Ember bit her lip and stayed silent.

  He shook his head slowly, back and forth, his eyes scorching hers. “Tell me what you want.”

  “I want…I want…” She swallowed, trying to buy time. Ultimately, she chickened out entirely and buried her face in the pillow, hiding from him. “I don’t know what I want.”

  He lowered his head next to hers, brushed his lips across the exposed skin of her throat. Whispering into her ear, he said, “Let me give you a piece of advice, Ember. Never, never lie to yourself. It’s the most self-destructive thing you can do. Be brutally honest about who you are and what you want, even if you never reveal it to another soul. If you’re not, if you pretend things are different than they really are, if you try to sweep your true feelings under the rug, you will be miserable, and you won’t even know why. You will be powerless. Lie to everyone else if you have to, do whatever it takes to protect yourself from all those bastards who will tell you what to do, how to be, what you should think or feel. But own your truth. Own it. And never be ashamed.”

  He grasped her jaw firmly in his hand and turned her face back to his. Looking deeply into her eyes, he said, “Do you want me to stay?”

  Haltingly, she said, “Yes. And no. And that’s the truth. It’s so much to take in…I need to think—and I can’t when you’re so close…” She trailed into silence because his gaze had drifted to her mouth, and his eyes had begun to smolder.

  “Don’t think, then,” he said. In one swift move, he’d turned her over so they were chest to chest, thighs to thighs, their bodies pressed close. He took her hand, placed it flat against his bare chest, and whispered, “Just feel.”

  Beneath her palm, his heartbeat was as fast and erratic as hers. As it did whenever he looked at her as he was looking at her now, heat exploded in her body.

  Looking straight into her eyes, he murmured, “Shall I tell you what I want?”

  Her head made the slightest of up and down motions.

  He bent his head, lowered his lips to hers, and gave her the softest of kisses, raising goose bumps on her arms and legs. “I can’t tell you all of it because we’re not there yet and it will scare you, but right now…” His tongue traced her lower lip, the faintest, gliding pressure, and she made a small, involuntary sound of pleasure. “Right now I want your mouth. I want this beautiful mouth all over my body. I want your beautiful body naked under mine, and I want to spread your legs, and bury myself inside you, and hear you scream my name.”

  Ember’s heart had seized, but he wasn’t finished. He curled a hand into her hair and pressed them both back against the mattress, one of his legs thrown over both of hers so she felt his erection, hard as steel, at her hip. His voice grew darker, more gruff.

  “I want you to learn what pleases me, and I want to learn what pleases you, and I want to watch you come apart at the seams for me, over and over again. I want all of that and I want it so fucking badly it’s taking everything I’ve got not to rip all your clothes off right now because I know you want all of that just as much as I do, only you’re scared, which kills me, because I’d rather tear out my own heart than do anything to hurt you.”

  He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her again, this one longer, harder, more demanding than the first. Ember moaned into his mouth, already coming apart at the seams with just the taste of him.

  Trembling, her hands drifted up his back, skimming his heated skin, exploring the hard, sculpted muscles. She reveled in the little shivering tremor that went through him when she lightly scored his back with her nails. She parted her legs and he settled his weight between them with a growl in his throat, pressing his pelvis into hers as she rocked up to meet him better.

  She was spinning. She was falling. It felt like gravity had ceased to exist and she was flying through space at a thousand miles an hour, with no oxygen, and nothing to grab onto but him.

  He broke the kiss and lowered his mouth to her throat. She groaned as she felt the warm wetness of his mouth against her skin, his teeth pressing down just hard enough to sting. He sucked hard enough she was sure it would leave a mark, but it didn’t matter because she didn’t care about anything other than the feeling of his body against hers. She encircled his shoulders with her arms, threaded her fingers into his hair—thick and even softer than it looked—and arched against him, his name a whispered entreaty on her lips.

  His hand slid up under her pajama top. His fingers brushed the underside of her breast, and Ember couldn’t help it. She ground her pelvis against his and moaned, “Yes, please.”

  He cupped her breast in his hand, pinched her hard nipple, and chuckled when she jerked and whispered it again.

  “My little firecracker has a short fuse, hmmm?” He stroked her nipple, his laughter dying when she dug her fingers into his scalp and pushed up into his hand, whimpering.

  He whispered, “You’re so responsive, Ember. God, that’s hot.”

  Then he pushed her top up and lowered his mouth to her nipple, and she gasped as he drew hard against it with a hint of teeth. The stinging pain relieved almost instantly when he gentled and stroked his tongue back and forth, around and around, hot and wet and wonderful—then pain again with another fierce tug, his other hand pinching her other nipple.

  She writhed against him, teetering on a knife-edge precipice of surrender.

  Beyond the door came a shouted, “Nine minutes!”

  They broke apart, panting, and stared into one another’s eyes. Through gritted teeth, Christian muttered, “I am going to kill him.”

  “No…it’s…he’s…” Ember couldn’t get her mouth to cooperate with her brain. Realizing she was about to do something her body very much wanted to do but her brain was not entirely on board with, she took a deep breath, put her hands against the hard muscles of Christian’s chest, and gave a little push.

  He looked at her with a look that said, Please tell me you’re not telling me what I think you’re telling me.

  She only nodded and gave him another little push.

  His eyes closed briefly. He drew in an unsteady breath, then opened his eyes and said, “Okay. But I’ve still got one minute. And there’s something I’ve been wanting to do.”

  Unable to answer, Ember just blinked at him.

  Keeping his gaze on hers, he rolled off her so his weight was balanced on one elbow, then he slowly ran his hand down her ribcage, over her belly, and beneath the elastic waistband of her cotton pajamas. When his fingers slipped beneath the edge of her panties she gasped, but he softly ordered, “Stay still. And keep quiet.”

  With her heart hammering against her breastbone, she pressed her lips together and nodded.

  When his fingers stroked over that little swollen nub between her legs, she was glad he’d told her to be quiet, because the groan that rose in her throat would have been loud enough to wake the neighbors and send Asher crashing back into the room. She jerked against his hand.

  “Shh,” he whispered, when her breath caught in her throat and a little noise escaped her as his fingers slid farther down, then slowly penetrated her. Her eyes slid shut, her back arched, and she had to bite her lip to keep quiet.

  “You’re soaking wet, baby,” he whispered into her ear, his breath hot and his breathing irregular, two fingers sunk deep
inside her and his thumb making slow circles over her clit. “You’re so wet for me.”

  She whispered his name, rocking against his hand, pleasure gathering to an exquisite bright peak inside her body. She never knew it could be anything like this, so fast, hard, and total, the sensation overwhelming. Every nerve and cell strained, focused on such a small, wonderful area. Her face and chest were flushed with heat, her breath was uneven, her fingers twisted into his hair, and all she could think was more, more, please, yes, more.

  “I want to watch you come,” he whispered, his voice a rough heat at her ear, a blues singer’s mix of silk and sandpaper. His tongue flicked out and stroked her earlobe and she shuddered, arching higher into him, her breasts crushed against his chest. He lowered his head, suckled her nipple into his mouth, and she gasped as his fingers probed deeper.

  He kept stroking and suckling, his body hot and hard against hers, his breath just as ragged as her own, his fingers and tongue demanding and relentless, until she moaned as the first convulsion rocked her. Then he kissed her, sucking hard on her tongue, stifling her moans with his mouth as every part of her trembled and thrummed. Lightning crackled through her blood, breaking her apart, and she felt as if she were drowning in him, in his scent and taste, in the sweetest, darkest, most powerful pleasure she’d ever known.

  Finally she was spent and collapsed back against the mattress, panting, delirious.

  Her eyes drifted open. Christian was staring down at her in fierce intensity. “Beautiful,” he whispered, pressing the softest of kisses to her lips. “You are so beautiful, Ember.”

  The he withdrew his hand from between her legs, lifted it to his face, put two fingers in his mouth and sucked them, licking off her arousal.

  He did it slowly, with his gaze locked on hers, and it was the sexiest, most carnal thing she’d ever seen.

  Then he took those same two fingers and pressed them against her lips. She opened her mouth and took them in, tasting herself—salt and tangy wetness—sucking just as he’d done, their eyes still locked together. There was heat and animal passion in his eyes, a dangerous light. When he withdrew his fingers he replaced them with his tongue, and the kiss they shared was wild, hungry, and desperate, a promise of things to come.

  He broke away first. He sat up and set her on her shaking legs, gave her a little push toward the door.

  “Go on,” he said, his voice husky. “Go on and talk to your friend before I lose complete control of myself.”

  Stunned and breathless, barely functioning, Ember nodded, smoothed her hands over her hair, inhaled and exhaled carefully, and went to the door. Without looking back at Christian, she turned the knob and walked through the door, closing it firmly behind her. Still trembling, she leaned against it.

  On the sofa in the living room, Asher sat with his arms crossed over his chest. When he caught sight of her face, he rolled his eyes and drawled, “Well, I guess that fight’s been won.”

  But Ember, heart pounding, body aflame, had a feeling the real fight was just about to begin.

  Whether she liked it or not, she was falling in love with this man who was not a man, and she had to decide what she was going to do about it.

  Christian sat on the edge of the bed looking down at his hands, surprised to see them trembling.

  Her response to him had been totally unexpected, natural and abandoned, a sensual reaction that had the animal inside him roaring in pleasure. It took every ounce of willpower he’d had to set her away from him, but he did it because he knew she wasn’t ready yet.

  Her body was, but her mind was another matter.

  He wondered where her heart weighed in on all this.

  He blew out a hard breath and stood, ignoring the sound of the words Ember and Asher were exchanging behind the closed bedroom door. He’d practiced for years to master the ability to block things out at will, a necessary skill without which his acute senses would overload his brain to drowning. His brain was already overloaded enough, thank you very much—and he suspected it would only take the tiniest bit of coaxing to push him right over the edge into madness.

  For example, if she came back through the door and kissed him again.

  Her mouth was so sweet, her scent and small, restless moans even sweeter, the way she looked at him…the way she tasted. Christ, the way she tasted. He’d been dreaming about it for weeks, and the reality was so much better than even his best fantasies it didn’t seem possible.

  He put his head in his hands, thought for a moment, then did the only thing he could do:

  He left.

  He wrote her a short note that he left on the pillow they’d shared, crossed to the window, and cracked open the panes. Looking up at the winking stars, feeling the cold salt air bracing his face, he closed his eyes and let the magic of the Shift rise to a glittering peak within him.

  Then, silently and all at once, he turned to Vapor.

  His linen trousers slid to the floor and lay in an ivory pile, leaking air while he rose in a slinking thin plume and pushed through the crack of the window, out into the night.

  Asher didn’t look entirely convinced by Ember’s explanation of what was going on with her and Christian.

  She’d had to leave out the most important parts of the last week, of course, because she wasn’t going to reveal to another soul what exactly Christian was. Even if she ultimately decided she couldn’t be with him, his secret was safe with her.

  “Secret?” said Asher sharply.

  Ember realized she’d drifted off into her own little world for a moment and had been muttering aloud. His voice brought her back to reality with an unpleasant thud.

  “What? Oh, sorry…nothing…my brain…I’m just so tired.”

  Asher’s twisted lips and cocked eyebrow indicated he thought about as much as this lame excuse as she did. He made a noncommittal, “Mmm hmm.”

  She blew out a shaky breath and shook her head. “You know, Ash, I love you for worrying about me, but this is just something I’ve got to get through myself.”

  Asher’s gaze flickered to the door behind her. His look soured.

  “He’s not going to do anything to hurt me.” Ember realized as she said it she wasn’t just saying it to convince Asher not to hurl the cleaver he still had in his hand at the back of the door; she actually believed it. Which was both a surprising revelation, and a huge relief.

  Asher considered her in silence. Then he stood from the couch, crossed to the kitchen and laid the knife on the countertop. Looking down at it gleaming wickedly in the light, he said quietly, “There are a million ways someone can hurt another person, Ember, many of them unintentional.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “But something tells me this guy knows a lot of very nasty ways to hurt someone, all of them intentional.”

  “Ash—”

  “He’s beautiful, I’ll give you that. He might even be the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, and honey, that’s saying something. But he’s dangerous, too. All I had to do is look into his eyes when he was standing there in your bedroom and I could see it. I could feel it. He was ready to tear me limb from limb. All that beauty is worth diddly-squat when you’re dealing with someone dangerous. In fact, it makes him even more dangerous because you’re too busy ogling all the pretty to notice the poison he’s slipping in your drink.”

  “Ash—”

  “You’re a big girl and I’m not your father, but I am your friend, and I’m worried about you. I’ll let it go because I know you want me to, but remember I told you this, Ember; this guy has secrets. Secrets have a cost, they’re not for free. And whatever you do, don’t let him give you any shit just because he looks like a supermodel. To paraphrase the great Violet Weingarten, life is too short to take shit, or to be minding it. So be smart. Keep your eyes open. Keep your eyes wide open, you hear? And if you need me, you know where to find me.” He tipped his jaw to the front door. “I’m only a phone call away.”

  Then he turned, made his way silently to the front door and d
isappeared through it, leaving her alone in the empty living room wondering exactly when everything had gone so insane.

  Oh yeah: the night Christian walked out of the rain and into my life.

  She sighed and scraped her hair off her heated face, holding her hands against her head for a moment while she mentally prepared herself to walk back into the bedroom.

  But when she did, Christian was nowhere to be found. Only a small pile of ivory linen crumpled below the cracked open window was evidence he was ever there at all.

  That and the note he’d left on the pillow. The note read, I’ll wait as long as you need. But time is precious. And so are you. Please hurry.

  Time is precious. Again, that reference to time running out.

  When Ember turned on her computer and began to do more research on this character Caesar, she got the first, faint inklings of what he might mean.

  Caesar was thoroughly unimpressed with the drawing Marcell presented him with.

  It wasn’t the quality of the work he found lacking, it was the subject itself. Shoulder-length brown hair, brown eyes, heart-shaped face, symmetrical but average features, the woman staring back at him from the drawing could have been one of a billion different women, all of them boring. A crust of white bread had more interesting things to offer.

  “That’s her?” he asked, sorely disappointed. “She looks so ordinary.” He’d have thought a male of his kind would have better taste in human women, especially considering they were off-limits, on pain of death. Why risk his hide for that?

  He shifted his gaze to Nico, who stood humbly beside Marcell with his eyes lowered, his hands clasped behind his back. “Does she have big breasts, at least?”

  “No, sire,” replied Nico regretfully.

  Caesar gave an exasperated sigh. “Great ass, great legs, statuesque as a runway model—anything?”

  “She was just…normal, sire. About five foot four, average weight, average everything.”

  Average. How depressing. Who was this rogue who’d killed two of his best men and had average taste in women?