Betting on Julia (A Melville Sisters Novel) (Entangled Covet) (16 page)

His hand fisted in her hair, jerking her head back and pressing his lips to the curve of her throat as his cock buried itself inside her in one hard lunge that left her gasping. Her inner muscles clenched around him, her fingers curled into the soft leather of the sofa.

“You like it rough, baby?” he whispered the question against her skin as he pulled out, then thrust back in, the sofa shifting under the force.

She didn’t think he was expecting an answer—it had to be obvious she liked it—a lot.

He held her steady with a hand on her ass the other splayed across her back as he pounded into her. She lost focus of everything except the man. He surrounded her, his touch on her skin, the musky scent in her nostrils, each stroke burning her flesh, driving her higher until her heart was slamming and the pleasure was building again.

She pushed back against him and his speed increased. He slapped her right buttock, then the left. Finally, his hand slid around, burrowed between her thighs, found the swollen nub and squeezed.

For a second everything went black as she came again, lights flashing behind her closed lids, as she shattered into a thousand pieces. She was dimly aware of Bastian finding his own release. Then she was in his arms and he was kissing her as if he never wanted to let her go. After scooping her up, he carried her through into the bedroom, laid her down on the huge bed. She couldn’t work out his expression, rueful maybe.

She licked her dry lips. “That was…nice.”

He laughed softly, then the humor dropped from his face. “I should make you go.”

His words tore at her heart. She’d had the rough, and now she craved the sweet. “Make love to me instead.”

For a moment, she thought he would refuse, and then he lowered his head and kissed her again. His emerald eyes were dark with passion, no longer hard like gemstones, but soft and giving. “Just remember—this changes nothing.”

He stripped off the rest of his clothes under her watchful stare. When he stood before her naked, she lifted one small hand and held it out to him. Sliding his palm against hers, he stretched his length out beside her.

Leloo had been scratching and whining, now finally, she was at peace.

Julia lay back as he kissed her everywhere, down her throat, his tongue stroking the sensitive spot where he’d bitten her early.

Tingles shot through her body, along her nerves, heating her blood. She writhed against the silk sheets, and he soothed her with kisses.

He raised his head, and she reached up and caressed his cheek. “Make love to me,” she said again, and he took her lips with his while he came up over her. Nudging her thighs apart with one leg, he stroked a hand down over her belly and the muscles locked. His long fingers ruffled the curls at the base, then slid between the folds of her sex. She was still sensitive and the touch sent sparks shooting through her body, tightening her nipples until they ached for his touch. As if he sensed her need, he lowered his head and kissed one peak, laved it with his tongue, sucked it into his mouth, and suckled gently, sending warmth down to pool at her core. At the same time, he pushed one finger inside her. The urgency that had marked their earlier sex was gone but still she wanted him inside her, and she bucked her hips against his hand.

He shifted slightly and the scalding length of his erection nudged at her core. He balanced on one elbow and cupped her face with his big hand while he pushed inside her, filling her.

When he was fully inside, he held himself still and kissed her again. This time his tongue pushed inside her mouth, and her senses were flooded with the spicy taste of him, her nostrils with the scent of fresh sweat and musky aroused male. He caged her in, surrounded her, and she’d never felt so right, so safe, in her whole life. As though this was meant to be. Inside her, Leloo wagged her tail and her eyes widened.

He drew back. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” To prove her point, she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him in even farther as pleasure rippled across his stern features. Then he started moving inside her, his thrusts slow, almost languid, and straightaway, she felt the buildup of pleasure.

Something told her this was time out for both of them, and she didn’t want it to end, but her body thought differently, craving release. Each inward stroke pressed against her clit and lifted her a little bit higher.

“Let go,” he murmured as she fought the pleasure.

“I don’t want it to be over.”

“It won’t be. Let go.”

And she did. As she relaxed, the pleasure washed over her in waves, rolling her, sucking her under. She closed her eyes and let the sensations carry her away.

When her lashes flickered open, he was watching her. “More?”

“Much more.” And he moved again, over and over, slowly grinding into her, coiling her insides tight until she teetered on the edge. This time she didn’t fight it. She imploded, pleasure shooting through her and still he moved. She came again, and she threw back her head and screamed.

As he thrust harder and faster, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging on tight, not wanting to let him go.

He threw back his head, his spine arched, and he spilled himself inside her, continuing to pump as though he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

At last, he went still. Julia maintained her grip, and he collapsed on to his side with her still holding on and him still deep inside her. He stroked her back, her hair, his hands cupping her ass for long minutes. Finally, he stopped moving. She didn’t want to speak, didn’t want him to speak either and spoil what had been one of the most sublime, beautiful experiences of her life.

But it couldn’t last.

Something had changed while they had made love. Because it had been making love. It had been beautiful and had touched some deep part of her. She’d sensed the anger in him when he’d first taken her, as though everything was held in tight and waiting to explode. Then he had relaxed.

She felt the faintest of kisses on her hair, and he tried to pull free. She held on and she was strong, but he peeled her fingers from his skin, unwrapped her legs from around his waist, and sat up. Running a hand through his hair, he sat for a second on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched.

The scars on his back almost glowed, and she stroked her fingers down over the length of them, felt him flinch under the soft touch.

“You have to go,” he said.

“Why?”

Instead of answering, he pushed himself to his feet. He picked up his pants and dragged them on but didn’t bother with anything else. Staring up at him, naked but for the black leather pants, the tattoo dark against his olive skin, it occurred to her to wonder how the hell she had ever mistaken him for normal.

He was no more normal than she was.

But what was he? She didn’t get the chance to ask, because he turned and strode from the room. She hugged her knees to her chest, knowing she should move, do something, say something.

He came back a minute later and tossed her clothes on the bed. “Get dressed.”

“Then we can talk?”

“There’s nothing more to say. Think of this”—he waved at the bed—“as my good-bye to you.” And he turned on his heel and walked away.

Her breath hitched as though she’d been punched in the gut. She moved slowly as she tied the ends of her torn sweater together. When she came out of the bedroom, he was standing in the center of the room, a glass of amber liquid gripped tight in his hand. As he caught sight of her in the doorway, he tossed the glass back and swallowed the drink in one go.

He crossed the room and picked up her jacket held it out to her dangling from one finger.

“You won’t be coming back?” she asked.

“No.”

She took the jacket from him but didn’t put it on. “I think you’re too hard on yourself,” she said. “I think you’re a nice man.”

“No, you don’t.”

Maybe he was right. But he wasn’t
all
evil and badass scary either. While he might have beaten her with his belt, she had asked him to, and she had no doubt that if she’d wanted him to stop at any point he would have done so. She never felt threatened by him. And she’d seen real glimmers of kindness in him the night he had comforted her after she found out about Lissa’s pregnancy. How he’d held her hand.

“Maybe not. But, Sebastian, has it never occurred to you that perhaps I’m not such a good woman after all?”

She watched as his gaze dropped down over her figure in her jeans and furry pink sweater. “No.”

She shrugged into her jacket, hunching her shoulders as though she was already out in the cold. Then bit her lip and stared up at him. His face was expressionless, his eyes like green glass, his mouth a harsh line.

“You know, you’re not the only one with secrets, Bastian. You may just be wrong about me. When you’re ready to face the truth, come see me.”

And she headed for the elevator.

He spoke as the doors slid open. “You were a bet, nothing more. And I lost. I have no further use for you.”

Chapter Fifteen

You should have used her to get to her brother. With her as a hostage, he would
have had to play to your tune.

“I thought he was an amoral monster who would very likely rip her to pieces and devour her.”

He felt Dante’s mental shrug. But the demon didn’t say anything else.

Five days had passed since Julia had walked out. Or rather, since he’d driven her out. He was doing the right thing. However much he wanted her, she was better off without him. All the same, he’d been pushing off the confrontation with Daniel Melville, though Dante had actually advised that as the best course of action. It would be a full moon in another day and according to Dante that would mean the Alpha would be distracted, making it easier to get through his defenses.

Bastian had spent the time organizing his life. Or rather demolishing his old life, closing everything down, and transferring his assets to new accounts, making Sebastian Crane disappear. Trying not to think about Julia.

Once this was done, he was leaving. Going far away from temptation.

Cue the violins

“Fuck off,” he snarled.

At least he would be free of the fucking demon.

Aw, you love me really.

He didn’t bother with an answer.

So here he was, dawdling outside the London Offices of Stone International, where Daniel Melville was the CEO. Stone International—Ethan Stone’s company. It occurred to him that if he done his research better, if he had looked closer into Julia’s brother, he might have realized what he was sooner, extracted himself before…

Aw—before Julia broke you poor, fragile heart.

Ethan had been a total bastard. Now if Dante had wanted him to kill Ethan, he probably would have done it with a smile.

Pity he’s already dead then. Plus nobody wanted Stone dead—he cooperated. Paid the tithes.

Bastian didn’t want to know what cooperated meant, but presumably that meant Daniel wasn’t cooperating. What did that mean and why? Hopefully, that he was a greedy bastard who wanted to keep everything to himself. He’d been to the man’s house. He lived well.

He’d checked around and knew Daniel was in the building. Now he pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number.

“Daniel Melville’s office.”

“Tell him it’s Sebastian Crane. I’d like to speak with him.”

“Crane?”

He recognized Daniel Melville’s voice from the other night. “Yes. I’d like to see you.”

“When?”

“Now. I’m outside the building.”

“Come right up.”

The double glass doors slid open, and he stepped into the reception area. A security guard approached him immediately, a big man with wide shoulders, and a controlled way of moving—werewolf? It would make sense.

“Mr. Crane?”

He nodded.

“I’m to take you up to Mr. Melville’s office.” The guard was studying him, as if he recognized there was some sort of threat but couldn’t work out what that threat could be. Bastian had dressed down deliberately to appear nonthreatening.

He followed the man into an elevator, which took them up to the top floor and opened into a second reception area. The desk was empty, and across from the elevator was a set of double mahogany doors.

“Go in. He’s expecting you.”

Bastian hesitated.

The only time he’d killed, he’d hardly been himself. He’d been mad with grief and fury and he’d acted on instinct and driven by the demon who had reveled in the carnage. Afterward, Bastian had thrown up, and he’d vowed he would never kill again.

Pathetic. But you know it’s only a matter of time. Each day the balance of power tips in my favor. One day I’ll be stronger than you and you will dance to my tune.
And then we’ll have fun.

Bastian knew he spoke the truth. This was the lesser of two evils. One werewolf’s death to save many innocent lives.

Exactly. Now, can we get a move on here? Have I mentioned I’m bored?

Taking a deep breath, Bastian nodded at the guard and strode forward. He knew the man was watching him, a puzzled frown on his face, but he ignored him and kept going.

The doors opened to his push, and he stepped into the office. It was big, taking up the corner of the building with two of the walls made of glass that looked out on the city of London. Daniel Melville sat behind a big mahogany desk. A chair was opposite but Bastian headed instead to the window to stare down at the city.

“According to my wife, you’ve broken up with my sister.”

Bastian turned at the words and moved toward the desk but felt too restless to sit. He took a quick look around. He’d researched the building plans, and he knew the door opposite led into a small apartment where Daniel sometimes stayed. And from the apartment, there was a separate entrance to the outside. Which might prove useful.

“We weren’t…suited.”

“Apparently you’re a bastard who has broken her heart.”

Why did that make
his
heart beat faster? “I doubt that.” He gave a small smile. “Not the bastard bit. That’s true. But the broken heart. She’ll soon realize I’m not who she thought I was.”

He shrugged. “She’s been hunting for you for the last five days, and you haven’t been at home. Either of your homes.”

“I’ve been home. I just didn’t want to see her.” A total lie.

“You look like shit.”

Bastian ran a hand over his chin, scraping over the five-day stubble. He hadn’t even thought about shaving. “So?”

Daniel got up and went to the coffee machine, poured two cups. He came across and handed one cup to Bastian. He appeared relaxed, but there was a coiled-up tension to him.

Now,
Dante urged
. Do it now.

But he forced the demon down and took the coffee. He was pathetic, but he wanted to hear more about Julia.

“Pathetic” doesn’t cover it.

“She hasn’t spoken to me and only to Lissa under duress. She’s hurting and her life is complicated enough right now. I’m guessing since you’re here, that you do care about her.”

“No, I don’t. I want you to tell her to stay away.”

A smile flickered across the other man’s face. “I love my sister, but what makes you think that she will listen to me? Julia listens to no one, except maybe Lissa.” He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “She may look small and fluffy, but she’s strong. Take that into account and you might find she’s strong enough to take whatever you can dish out.” He studied Bastian his head cocked to one side. “I saw you fight.”

“So?”

“I suspect you’re not entirely human.”

“In which case, why did you agree to see me?”

“Because my sister cares about you, and I care about my sister.”

He really did not need to hear this shit. “Has it occurred to you that you may have made a mistake in letting me in here? That I might have my reasons for wanting to see you?”

Daniel shrugged again. “You were good, but I’m better.”

Maybe he was if they went head to head. This guy had beaten Ethan Stone, who was two hundred years old and probably the strongest werewolf Bastian had ever come across. But Daniel didn’t know that Bastian had some spells up his sleeve—one which would incapacitate the werewolf long enough to use the silver knife tucked into the back of his jeans.

But he couldn’t get the words out of his head. The caring words. Werewolves didn’t care about people, even their families. In fact, most renounced their families when they were changed.

“Besides, I call and there are at least ten guards who’ll come running. You took on two but could you really take on ten?”

Maybe not. He shook his head. Time to get this moving and over with. He put down his cup and headed to the door.

“Are you leaving?” Daniel asked.

But Bastian didn’t open the door. Instead, he pressed his palm to the wood and whispered the words of a spell. “Just making sure we won’t be interrupted.”

For the first time, a frown formed on Daniel’s face, as though this wasn’t going as planned. “What are you?”

“You know what they call me on the fight circuit?”

“Warlock. You’re saying it’s not merely a name? You’re a real, honest to God, fucking warlock? Like magic?”

He sounded more intrigued than anything else. That wouldn’t last.

Bastian reached behind him and pulled out the knife, it was nine inches long with a wicked serrated edge, sharp enough to slice through muscle and bone and sever a head. The blade glittered and shone.

Daniel stared at it for a few seconds, then back up to Bastian’s face. His nostrils flared, and his eyes gleamed feral. Power roiled around the room, prickling his skin. For the first time, Bastian saw the wolf behind the man.

“Silver?” he murmured.

Bastian nodded.

“So you know what I am?”

“I know.”

“What do you want?” He sounded interested but there was no fear in the voice.

“Let’s just say there are some…people who want you dead.”

“And you decided to help them out. Why?”

“They offered me something I couldn’t refuse.”

“And that would be?”

But the time for talking was over. He needed to do this now, before he lost all remembrance of why he was doing it.

Because if he didn’t go through with this, he would never be free and Julia would never be safe.

That annoying little voice niggled in the back of his mind that there was always a choice. It might be hard but it was there.

Do it!

As Dante’s voice sounded in his head, his concentration snapped and for a second the demon took control. Bastian leaped for Daniel. He sidestepped to avoid the knife but the two of them smashed into the floor and rolled. They came up on their feet facing each other.

“You don’t have to do this,” Daniel said.

“But I do. If I don’t kill you, Julia will never be safe.”

“What?” Shock flared in his eyes. That had obviously never occurred to him. Bastian took advantage of his momentary confusion and leaped again, trying a sideways kick to knock Daniel’s legs from under him.

But Daniel was amazingly fast and strong. He sprang to the left so the desk was between them. Raising his left arm, he stared across at Bastian. Magic hummed in the air, fur flowed out of the skin, and inch-long claws sprouted from his fingertips.

Use the spell, you idiot.

But Bastian couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Maybe the only way he could face this was if he beat the werewolf in a fair fight. Maybe that was the only way he could live with himself afterward.

For a minute, they circled each other. Both wary now. The scars on Bastian’s back tingled as he watched that furred claw. That’s how he had been scarred and the memory of the burning agony was fresh in his mind.

Daniel lunged forward, those razor-like claws catching Bastian’s cheek. The skin split, and the harsh scent of blood filled his nostrils, and the cool wetness dribbled down his cheek. He swiped his arm across the cut, then ignored it. Grabbing Daniel’s arm as he stepped back, he swiped his legs from under him, and he smashed into the floor. Bastian came down on top of him, his knees thumping into Daniel’s chest so the air left his lungs in a whoosh.

For a second, he stared up at Bastian and went still. Something flickered in his eyes and the fight seemed to leave him.

Hee hee you’ve won. Do it.

Bastian raised the knife above his head. Gritting his teeth, he stared down into the other man’s silver eyes and stabbed the knife down with all his force. The blade embedded itself in the floor at the side of Daniel’s head.

Daniel closed his eyes for a brief second, then opened them.

“Why?” Bastian asked. He knew that Daniel had allowed him the leeway.

“My sister is in love with you. I needed to know if you would actually go through with it and kill me.” He quirked a brow. “I didn’t actually believe you would.”

“Fucking idiot. You know nothing.” Bastian shook his head. He’d failed, but instead of panic or worry, he actually felt a lightening of his spirits. Maybe he’d known all along what he had to do.

There were always choices after all.

“Do you think you could get off me?” Daniel asked.

For a moment, he knelt there, his breath ragged, and then he pushed himself to his feet. “You risked your life to prove a point.”

“Not quite.” Daniel sat up; he glanced from the knife to Bastian and tugged it from the floor. His hand had shifted back to human form. Now he lifted his left hand and sliced the blade through the skin of his palm. Blood welled up from the wound, but a moment later, the edges of the cut closed together and the wound was gone. He wiped it clean on his pants leg, leaving a smear of crimson and it was as though the wound had never been.

“How?”

“I’m a scientist. It’s why I was targeted by the pack.”

That made sense; the pack had always done a selection process, identifying humans they believed could be of use to them. It was why Bastian had been targeted all those years ago. But what they hadn’t realized was he was already more than human. And more than capable of fighting back. If he’d known more then, would he have made the deal with the demon? If he’d known more, would he have waited and gone about his revenge in a different way?

He didn’t know.

He’d hardly been thinking straight at the time.

“You found a cure for the silver poisoning?” he asked.

“Among other things.”

He would have liked to know more about those other things, but he needed to get out of there. Dante had gone silent, which was never a good sign. If the demon had even an inkling of Bastian’s next move, he would not be happy, nor would he sit back and allow it to happen.

“I could still have chopped your head off, silver or not that would have killed you.”

“I’d never have let you.”

“You would have had no choice.” He raised his hand; around his wrist, he wore the spell, and he whispered the words to activate the magic. Shock flowed across Daniel’s face and he went instantly rigid. Bastian watched the inner struggle reflected in the other man’s eyes, then he reached out, plucked the knife from Daniel’s fingers, and shoved it in the sheath at the small of his back. He waved a hand, whispered a word to cancel the spell, and the tension went out of the werewolf’s body. Daniel sagged as though released from bondage.