Immortal Hope (23 page)

Time passed at a turtle’s crawl, his head no more clear than when he left at dawn. If such were possible, he felt even more conflicted.

Farran navigated the SUV to a stop in front of the temple, and Merrick let himself out, all too glad to be free of the stale air inside the vehicle. He ignored the concern that twisted Farran’s features into tight lines and jerked open the front door. As Farran turned left, Merrick went right.

He stopped at the stairwell leading upstairs, debating.

CHAPTER
17

Anne drew back from the window, her heart in her throat. When the headlights had flashed against her wall, she’d rushed to catch a glimpse of Merrick, but the SUV’s bright light blinded her to who had returned. So fierce was the glare, she couldn’t even decipher whether one or two men climbed out of the silver vehicle.

Fingers fisted in the lightweight sheers, she pressed her forehead to the cool windowpane. God, she’d go insane if she had to wait until morning to know if Merrick survived the night.

Closing her eyes, she pushed her energy outward, searching for some fragment of the vision. A fixture, a sliver of his clothing—anything that might tell her of its coming. But as it had done all night, her second sight eluded her. She could feel the power on the fringes of her thoughts, and yet she couldn’t gather it in, couldn’t open her mind enough to bring the scene to life.

“Merrick,” she whispered.

Lifting her shoulders, she turned from the window and stalked to her bedroom. She wouldn’t wait. Before she slept, before she
could
sleep, she’d find out if he’d returned.

She tugged her dresser drawer open and fished out a heavier shirt. After unpacking all the things Merrick brought, she’d donned a pair of lightweight pajama pants and a simple T-shirt. But if she intended to walk through the lower halls, she wanted the biggest, bulkiest object she could find. In case she ran into Tane. Or Ranulf.

As she lifted the sweatshirt to tug it over her head, a fumbling at her door made her pause. Elbows bent, she peeked through the neck as her heart drummed to a stop.

On an uneasy exhale, she watched as the brass doorknob turned, and the door slowly opened.

Merrick stepped inside, his features as hard as they’d ever been. His gaze swept the room, his eyes widening when they came to rest on her.

She dropped the sweatshirt and rushed to him. Unable to stop the tide of emotion that swelled and burst, she threw her arms around his neck. “Oh God, you’re okay.” He was okay. Alive.

Here.

She clung tighter, nuzzling her face into his shoulder. “You’re okay,” she repeated on a whisper of disbelief.

“Aye.”

The roughness of his voice, combined with the strange rigidity of his body, filtered through her awareness and quelled her surge of elation. Curious, she leaned back and lifted her gaze to his face.

What she saw across his cheek lanced pain through her heart.

Four long claw marks raked their way from Merrick’s temple to his chin. Another creased across the bridge of his nose to mar his other cheek. She let out a soft gasp.

As Merrick’s arms slowly wound around her waist, Anne let go of his neck to brush her fingertips across his face. “You’re hurt,” she murmured.

*   *   *

The concern that filled Anne’s blue eyes shredded Merrick’s heart far deeper than the shade’s claws had torn his face. Her delicate eyebrows dipped together, but the rest of her features softened as she gently touched his cheek.

He could not bear the tenderness of her caress. He did not deserve such. For if she knew what drew him here, she would surely think him a monster deserving of such marks. Twisting away, he tried to escape her soft caress.

She forbade him. With a lift of her other hand, she trapped his face between her hands and thwarted his attempt. “Do they hurt?”

He closed his eyes so she could not see the anguish that her worry provoked. “Nay.” In truth, they burned like fire. Each time he moved his mouth, the slice across his upper lip stung with the ferocity of an angry hornet. Yet under the soft pressure of her fingertips, the gentle brush of her lips he had not expected to encounter, they soothed.

But he did not want the balmy sensations. The way his heart stuttered unnerved him more than any wrathful foe. He clung desperately to his earlier annoyance, the anger he could more easily understand. Prying her hands away from his face, he turned his head and evaded her feather-light kisses.

What he desired had naught to do with gentleness. Nay, he could not allow feeling. Not tonight. Not ever.

Catching her roughly in his embrace, he slanted his mouth across hers. He nudged her lips apart, thrust his tongue against hers. Hungry for all she had to give, he demanded her full surrender with deep, possessive strokes.

To his complete consternation, she melted in his arms. Her kisses came with matched intensity, the play of her tongue with his, both salvation and damnation. He groaned against the rush of white-hot fire that surged through his blood, and with awkward steps, maneuvered her back to the wall.

Tearing his mouth from hers, Merrick sought the tender flesh near the base of her ear. One hand he slid to her bottom, pulled her hips in tight to his. The other he moved to her breast and cupped the soft flesh there. Heat filled his palms, her flesh as warm for him as his was for her.

Vaguely, the memory of his oath, the reasons why he could not strip her bare and sink himself inside her, rose to the back of his mind. He pushed the accursed thoughts aside and allowed the desire in his soul free rein.

Anne’s hands flattened over his chest. Her nails bit into his skin, the pinch a sting so pleasant his head spun. She tipped her head back, allowing him greater access to her throat and the thick vein that pulsed a frantic beat. He pressed his lips to it, trailed the tip of his tongue to the inlet of her shoulder.

“You are truly a demon,” he murmured as he gave the delicate skin a nip with his teeth.

She trembled against him, her hips undulating against the hand he held at the base of her buttocks. Through the lightweight cotton of her sleeping pants, he could feel the heat of her sex. He slipped his fingers between her thighs, let them rest upon her sensitive, feminine flesh. The angle of his arm brought her closer to his body, and her nipples stabbed into his chest.

With a stroke meant to further tease, he caressed her central place of pleasure through her clothing, then pulled his hand away to drag her shirt over her head.

She offered no resistance, wriggled her shoulders when the T-shirt became bound. He dropped the garment to the ground and let his gaze feast upon the most glorious breasts he had ever seen. Full and soft, they puckered with her shiver. Captured by the silent call of her body, he trailed a fingertip from her collarbone to the tip of one hard peak. Anne pulled in a ragged breath that ripped through him like a dagger’s deadly blade.

He repeated the motion against her other breast, then cupped them both, lifted gently before he covered them with his palms. His thumbs toyed with her nipples as he brought his gaze to hers. What he found in her bright blue eyes, however, was enough to make him tremble.

Behind a blend of things too frightening to consider, boldness shone bright. Not the same brazen wantonness the blonde made no attempt to hide, and yet naught close to the shy, hesitant stare of maid who knew innocence. ’Twas a look of a woman who felt no shame, who knew what she desired. That she might want him with the same ferocity that lived inside him, made Merrick feel like both a valiant warrior and a terrified captive all at once.

She reached between their bodies, gave his waistband a tug to draw him closer. Obeying, he dipped his mouth to her breast.

*   *   *

Anne slid her hands into Merrick’s thick hair and curled her fingers against his scalp. The moist heat of his mouth, combined with the chilly air, sent wave after wave of goose bumps rippling down to her toes. His teeth closed around her nipple, and she arched her back to his not-so-gentle nip. God, oh God, her body felt on fire. The urge to cry out, to beg him to release the building ache inside her rode her hard. But after last night, she vowed she wouldn’t so much as murmur, and she clamped down on her lower lip to stifle the sound.

All thoughts of deliberate seduction fled her mind as she became caught up in the magic of Merrick, the mystical power of his mouth and hands. This was no longer a coy game. Rather, she couldn’t control it if she wanted to. Some part of her that she didn’t fully understand needed everything Merrick had to offer. Needed
him
.

While he suckled at one breast, he stroked the other with his hand. Then, when she thought she couldn’t stand another moment of the incredible pleasure of his mouth, he alternated his caresses. Every last one of her nerve endings rose to stand on end, the ecstasy of Merrick’s caresses overwhelming her thoughts.

Her hips surged forward in a desperate attempt to make contact with the hard ridge of his erection. He sank into her, the contact fleeting before he drew away and dragged his mouth to hers. His kiss dominated. His hands, his tongue, his body commanded hers. Her legs went weak beneath his feral onslaught. Merrick held her up, refusing to let her fall.

His free hand flattened over her abdomen, the roughened scrape of his calloused palm a pleasant surprise. Withdrawing his hand from her breast, he wound it around her waist and brought her closer. And yet he refused to allow their bodies to meld. As if he sought to keep them deliberately distanced, he held his hips away. Denied her the one touch that would relieve the tightness in her womb.

In an effort to guide him to what she yearned for, she brought her hands between their bodies and freed the button at his waist. As her fingertips delved beneath his jeans and grazed the hot hard length of him, Merrick exhaled on a hiss. His body turned to stone, and for one terrifying moment, his lips clung to hers, unmoving.

She dipped her hand lower and flattened her palm over his erection. With her other hand she pulled at his jeans, giving herself more freedom to move, until she held him fully. His body surged into her palm, and Merrick let out a hoarse groan. A thrill thrummed through her at the sound, and for one crowning instant of glory, she became the victor in their play.

Yet her triumph was short lived, for in one sweeping downward glide, Merrick’s fingertips delved into the moistened folds of her aching center, and Anne’s world tilted upside down. She bucked into his palm, shuddering.

The tip of his tongue teased her down from a towering height as he traced the inside of her lower lip. She caught his mouth, her kiss far more urgent. With slow finger strokes that matched the firm pump of her hand, Merrick aroused her until she shook with need. The effort of keeping herself silent took its toll as well, and Anne choked back a cry. Lord in heaven, she was going to burst apart if Merrick didn’t stop.

One hand supporting her beneath her buttocks, he eased a finger inside her slick opening. Anne could no longer hold back. She whimpered. Dimly aware she still held him in her palm, she squeezed his hardened shaft as her inner muscles clamped down hard. Holding her as close as she could get, his fingers moved in and out of her, each press bringing the base of his palm against her sensitive nub.

She gripped and squeezed, mimicking the way she would hold him were he sheathed inside her, and sought to maintain a hold on her senses.

Yet it was futile. Her body betrayed her will, erupting with intense heat. Wave after wave of sensation rose within her, lifting her to heights she had never known. Had never imagined. And though she longed for Merrick to join her in the dizzying ride, she let go. Release ripped through her, stealing her ability to breathe. She tore her mouth away, sank her teeth into Merrick’s shoulder, and bit back a plaintive cry.

He slowed his rhythm, eased his hand from between her thighs, and settled it on her hip. Slowly, deftly, he pushed at the loose waistband on her pajamas, exposing her skin to the room’s cool air.

Shaken to the depths of her soul, Anne leaned against the wall, too spent to open her eyes. As the air washed across her legs, telling her he’d bared her completely, her thoughts came together with a cyclone’s force. He wasn’t finished with her. No, he was merely starting.

She shivered in expectation.

Merrick took a step forward, and Anne boldly guided him home. The tip of his erection slid between her thighs.

*   *   *

Everything inside Merrick throbbed. His cock, his pulse, his blood—nothing was spared the tumult of Anne’s release. Seconds away from finding his own ecstasy, the feel of her moistened flesh against his swollen cock blindsided him.

A dozen voices rose within his mind.
Unto your brothers swear your life; from this day forth you shall first be loyal to our purpose, second to those who bear arms at your side; swear your loyalty to her; she will save one man’s life.

The last crashed through all his bliss as if someone plunged a sword into his gut.
Nice art, but I’ve never seen it before.

She was not his. This woman who possessed him more deeply than the darkness in his soul belonged to a brother.

At once, he wanted to bellow, scream, cry, and even curse. He could find no salvation, no matter where he turned. He had never known the kind of heaven her arms held, nor the depths of hell they exposed him to. To walk amongst Azazel’s realm would surely be a lesser misery.

Dragging in air through clenched teeth, he set his hands on Anne’s hips and gently pushed her body away. He covered first himself, then bent down and pulled her pajamas about her waist. His fingers shook with the effort of fastening the button on his jeans, and to his humiliation, his arm trembled as he retrieved her shirt.

When he pressed it to her belly, her eyes searched his face, demanding explanations he could not find the strength to voice. Squeezing his eyes shut to the conflict in his mind, he shook his head and turned away.

“Merrick, wait,” she called softly.