13. War
War
Zade
T rembling arms snake around my neck, and slender thighs wrap around my waist, bringing my body flush with Siri.
She’s a mess, probably hyperventilating with warm breaths kissing my neck where she’s buried her face.
My hands smooth up and down her back, silently waiting for her to calm so I can explain.
I hadn’t expected her earlier panic, but maybe I should have.
Of course, she’s as worried for me as I am for her.
I fight a smile, warmth spreading outward from my chest and through my limbs. I’m only used to my parents fretting over me. As Siri’s big brother, it’s my job to look after her, not the other way around.
My hold tightens briefly before I gently push at her shoulders. She resists for only a moment, then leans back, allowing me to glimpse the tears glistening on her lashes.
My thumb swipes at them carefully. Her red nose and puffy eyes look oddly adorable, and it’s clear she’s struggling and approaching her breaking point. I don’t put her down, walking us toward a sofa and taking a seat with her straddling my lap.
My hands urge her to resume nestling into my neck. She slumps forward with little prompting. My heart swells, and pure masculine pride swamps me.
I’m her source of comfort. Her complete and utter dependence makes me want to puff out my chest. Is this how my ancient ancestors felt when a female chose them as their protector, implying they were worthy because of their prowess?
I don’t care if it’s archaic and barbarian. It’s instinct. She trusts me. And I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she keeps trusting me.
I need to pour over hours’ worth of footage.
Now, I’m convinced more than anything they live in the neighborhood.
Possibly on this block. I need to find a pattern, a routine, something that looks innocent but goes on for weeks.
They watched our house, noted our schedules and patterns.
They broke in when they thought her the most vulnerable, when our parents were away.
I take a moment to pause, my chest moving so forcefully it lifts Siri’s cheek. Dark lashes rest on her high cheekbones. For a moment, it looks like she’s simply listening to my heartbeat. I hope it’s soothing her anxieties, but it only gets worse from here.
It’s war.
“What do you want us to do? And did you get an ETA from Tito?” Excitement rests just below the surface of Zeke’s melodious voice.
While keeping one arm secured around the precious cargo lying in my lap, I pull my phone out of my pocket with my free hand.
Tito: Should be there in 4 hours.
He’ll be here soon, in four hours, if not more.
I blow out a ragged breath. Until I have more to go on, there’s not much they can do except surveillance. Unless. . .
How good are you at lock picking?
Zeke’s answering grin is downright diabolical. Oh, goody. A sociopath and a burglar.
I’m relieved he’s on my side.
Soriah
Lots of things happened without my being aware they were happening.
First, Zeke and Zephyr leave after a flurry of words fly over my head. I try to keep up, but I think shock slows down my mental processes.
So I give up, basking in the inferno beneath my cheek, pressed intimately close to my body.
A steady heat emanates from Zade, seeping beneath my bones.
Maybe I doze off, but soon, the gentle rocking of being carried lulls me back into whatever semi-conscious state I’d sunk into after wrapping myself like a python around Zade.
He didn’t complain nor try to force me off of him.
He communicated with his hands positioned behind my back, out of my line of sight.
Instead of trying to decipher whatever message he was relaying to Zeke and Zef by looking over my shoulder, I’d snuggled closer, half-listening to their end of the conversation.
But paying enough attention to know why they left or where they went. I vaguely recall Tito’s name getting thrown around. If he’s coming, I wonder if he’ll bring Bella. I’d hate for her to get mixed up in all of this.
I have a stalker, and Bella and I share a passing resemblance. We both keep our wavy dark hair long, the ends coming to a stop at our waists. Our eyes are a chocolate brown, and she’s only half an inch taller than me.
If I stayed in the sun a little more, my olive skin would deepen to a darker, bronze hue, making me nearly the same shade as my cousin if you didn’t look too closely.
It’s eerie how quickly I dipped into the mind of my stalker just now, cataloging the similarities between me and my adopted cousin.
We don’t share blood relations, and I never asked about the race or ethnicity of my biological parents to determine if I was truly biracial like Bella, but a stranger on the street would look at us both and mistake us for sisters or blood cousins.
She’s safer in Mexico, far from the demented man hunting me, secure behind the might of the Castilles.
A door clicks shut, and I startle in Zade’s arms, just now realizing he’d made the return trip to his room, striding toward his bed.
Where’s his laptop , I wonder. His hands slide from my back to under my thighs, his fingers applying gentle pressure in an unspoken demand. Reluctantly, I unwind them, and he lets me glide down his body, hard muscles scraping along my front and teasing my sensitive nipples.
They’d hardened into greedy little peeks, and I duck my head, hiding my flush. Zade huffs, the sound akin to a muted expulsion of air. I gasp, his fingers wrapping around my throat, jerking my neck and chin up so I have no choice but to gaze into his eyes.
One brow rises above the other, and I resist the urge to stick out my tongue and pant like a dog in heat. My panties dampen, and I idly wonder when did the energy between us morph from gentle comfort to something raw and primal.
Damn, Zade’s intense when his mood switches, need carving lines into his handsome face. If he asks me to drop to my knees and take him to the back of my throat, I would. Maybe my desire shows in my eyes, causing his lips to lift into a smirk.
With his grip on my neck, he pulls me close, leaning down and brushing his lips over mine.
“Zade,” I whimper, needing him. His silent comfort was what I needed downstairs. Now, I need more. I need to be closer, to burrow beneath his skin, where it’s safe.
When he pulls back, I nearly scream at him, threatening to throw an all-out temper tantrum, foot stomp and all. His shoulders shake, eyes crinkling with mirth and lips stretching wide with a smile.
He’s truly breathtaking. And quietly laughing at me. A smile twitches my lips, but I don’t give in to the impulse.
God, I love this. My relationship with Zade had always been a natural and effortless one. We just fit. And that’s before things took a sexual turn. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him at what moment did he begin to see me as something other than his sister.
Was it before I walked in on him showering? Or was it that moment when his hands wrapped around my throat and he saw my desire plain on my face?
But I don’t get the chance.
A push and I tumbled backwards onto the bed, arms pinwheeling in the air. It only makes Zade’s smile widen. I stare up at him, breathless with want and expectation.
I have a lot of work to do to catch your stalker. And for me to do that, I can’t have any distractions. Do you understand?
Desire makes my head swim and I stare at his hands and the veins winding through them longer than I should. After wetting my dry lips, I give him a nod. I think I understand his meaning. I’m the distraction, right?
But what does he want me to do? Watch him work in—I squeal, not expecting him to dart forward and yank my shorts and panties down without ceremony. I guess I took too long to answer.
“Zade—Oh!” My back bows off the bed, hips jerking toward his fingers. Above me and braced on one hand, he stares down at this other hand, fingers circling my clit. He’s learning, eyes jerking from what his hand is doing and up to my face, gauging my reaction.
He’ll get no complaints here. I moan, chasing the pleasure he’s freely offering. I don’t know what spurred this and what will happen afterwards, but I don’t care. My head tosses back and forth on the mattress, and I open my mouth to ask for more .
Metal glints, fracturing light right before something cold slides through my folds. What the fuck is that?
“Zade,” I whimper, writhing to escape the hard, cold object he’s brought between my legs.
He takes his body heat and the object with him, rising to his knees. I look down, making a small noise when I realize he’s straddling me.
Why is that hot ? I nearly groan to myself. I’d probably think he’s hot no matter what he’s doing, so long as he’s touching me while doing it.
Too distracted by the sight of him looming above me, I almost miss the knife in his right hand. The handle’s damp, and my cheeks redden. That is what he stroked my pussy with.
A damn knife.
What are the chances it’s the same knife he held to Zephyr’s throat?
That thought cools my lust some. I point at it.
“What are you planning to do with that?” I ask, striving for confidence but sounding petulant to my ears.
I’m planning to pleasure you with it. Unless you’d rather I didn’t?
My eyes narrow, shrinking his hulking frame. A glance down reveals an erection outlined by his sweats. I want to ask why he can’t pleasure me with his cock but suspect I won’t get an answer I’ll like.
“Why?”
He shrugs, muscles shifting beneath the tight press of his shirt. Some of the heat clears in his eyes with the movements of his hands. He’d laid the knife on the comforter to sign to me .
I kind of liked that he did that. It’s kind of like being in the heat of the moment, and the second you utter “stop,” even if it’s all breathy and unsure, the guy immediately hops off you, erection and sex forgotten, to assess your comfort.
Since when did common decency, like listening to your sexual partner, become something to fawn over? Because I can’t make the warmth in my chest dissipate, flicking my eyes from it to Zade’s moving hands.
Just say no, and we can forget about it. All of this is new to me, and it was a kind of spur of the moment thing. I figured you’d want something thicker than my fingers, and I don’t want our first time tainted with this .
He waves his hand in the general direction of my room. I bite my lip at the answer to my unspoken question. So, that’s why he won’t give me his cock.
I almost want to kill the stalker myself for cock blocking me. And a pierced cock at that. Damn, I want it. But I won’t beg.
Not that I think it’ll help. Zade can be bullheaded at times, usually when he’s reached his limit for socializing and Mom wants him to go somewhere where there are large groups of people.
I, too, want him out of his shell more around people, but I know not to push. I enjoy being someone whose company he prefers since I’m aware of how selective he is.
That thought right there decides it for me. I trust Zade implicitly, despite the non-consensual voyeurism. He hadn’t done it to be creepy. And I don’t tell him this is also new to me. I’ve done a few things but never knife play.
I smile, butterflies swarming my stomach again. We’re going to experience new things together and it makes me want to jump at him and demand he fucks me first. I want him to claim me, but I know we’re probably a little ways away from that.
Baby steps. For the both of us.
Despite his straddled position, I spread my legs wider in invitation, letting that serve as my answer. His eyes darken, and his nostrils flare.
A whimper escapes me when he leans down to return to his earlier exploration.