Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Declan
Any other time, any other woman, and the long, silken strands of hair tickling my chest when I wake would irritate the life out of me.
This morning, my only frustration is that I don’t want to move and wake Emery. Now that I have her in my bed, I don’t want her to leave.
Dawn creeps through the slit in the curtains, thin and gray. The room smells like her—warm skin, a faint trace of cinnamon—too sweet for this cold house.
Even unconscious and softly snoring, her body’s pressed tight to me.
Her plush behind fits against my thigh, every slow inhale rubbing heat along my skin.
The lines along my ribs stir faintly, like something dreaming under my skin.
It’s the closest thing they ever get to purring, content while the Rider’s away and Emery’s in my arms.
The green ring that circled her wrist last night now coils farther up her arm, glowing faintly in the dim room.
It’s not a trick of the early morning light.
The line around her wrist isn’t a line anymore.
It’s a vine, curling upward in thin, glowing filaments that crawl beneath her skin.
A pulse of panic cuts through the peaceful morning.
The mark shouldn’t have spread that fast.
“Mmm.” She lets out a soft, sleepy, contented sigh. At least the mark doesn’t seem to be hurting her.
She restlessly shifts her legs. The shirt I gave her has twisted around her waist, baring one hip and a long stretch of thigh.
I trace the curve of her hip, eager to relearn the sounds she made when she came apart in my hands.
The small taste I had of her last night wasn’t enough.
The painful hard-on I went to sleep with returns with a vengeance.
I drag a breath through my teeth, forcing my hand to stay where it is—clutching her hip. Her skin is warm but not burning. No metallic tang in the air. No hoofbeats.
Safe. For now.
I should wake her, tell her what the spreading mark means before it reaches her shoulder. Or her heart.
Anxiety thrums through my veins as I watch the slow rise and fall of her ribs, the way the glow of the curse lights her skin from within.
How am I going to fix this?
She shifts, a low murmur slipping out. Her heel slides down my shin. My body answers before my brain catches up.
I bend my head until my lips brush the edge of her hair. “Emery,” I whisper.
She stirs but doesn’t open her eyes. “Mmm?”
The sound vibrates against my chest. I could tell her to go back to sleep, pretend for one more hour that we’re just two normal people enjoying each other.
Instead, my hand slides from her hip to her stomach. She shifts, leaning back against me as if inviting me to continue exploring. I skim my fingertips against soft skin, over her ribs to the underside of her breast.
Heat rolls under the tattoos across my chest, the Rider’s leash tugging in time with my heartbeat. It wants more contact, but the air stays clean. No iron. No threat.
My pulse pounds.
Her breathing stops as if she’s afraid to do anything that might break the spell.
Without another thought, I cup her breast, the soft weight filling my palm. She’s a package I’m desperate to unwrap. I stroke two fingers against her hardening nipple, lightly pinching the tight peak. Her body shudders against me and I let out a satisfied groan.
“Declan,” she whimpers.
“Good morning.” I bury my face against her neck and kiss the spot below her ear while my fingers continue teasing her nipple.
“Declan.” Her voice is more desperate now and she tries to turn her body my way, further twisting the shirt, exposing more skin.
Reluctantly, I release her nipple and tug at the shirt. “I want to take this off you. I need it off.”
“God, yes. Please.” She wiggles and shimmies her arms out of the sleeves and I help her pull it off the rest of the way.
“Damn,” I breathe out, pulling back to admire her. Skin flushed a perfect shade of pink, a slight dusting of freckles over her chest. Breasts round and perfect. Big enough to fill my hands. My pulse accelerates. “Sit up.”
Dark lashes flutter. “What?”
“Sit up. I want to see you.”
She studies me for a moment, then tucks her legs under her and kneels next to me, resting her hands on her thighs. The blush creeping up her cheeks deepens but she doesn’t try to hide herself.
“You’re…beautiful.” Fuck, really? I can’t come up with something better than that?
She ducks her head, a shy smile curving her lips. “You’re pretty damn handsome yourself. Probably the hottest guy I’ve ever—” She bites her lip, her eyes going round with embarrassment.
A shocking jolt of possessiveness thunders through me. “Don’t tell me about anyone else who’s ever seen you like this. I’ll have to hunt them down and end their time on Earth.”
Her eyes widen even more.
Yeah, that was an insane thing to say. Can’t help it.
I curve my lips into what I hope is a charming enough smile to reassure her I’m not a menace. My gaze drops to her breasts. “God damn, your breasts are spectacular.”
She blinks, then laughs and glances down. “I don’t know. Lefty is just a tad bigger than righty, and it always bugs me.”
“What?” My brain scrambles at the gibberish that just came out of her mouth. I reach for her hand and tug her down next to me. “Let me see.” I cup both breasts and teasingly pretend to weigh them in my hands. “Nope. Not seeing it. Still damn fine.”
She giggles and squirms under me. “It’s true.”
I suck one nipple into my mouth and tease my tongue over the tip. The wriggling stops and she arches her back.
“Mmm.” I release her nipple. “Tastes perfect. Let me test the other one.”
Her whole body ripples in a sensual movement and she lets out a moan as I suck the tip into my mouth.
“God. Your mouth. Your hands. You make me feel so…alive,” she says on a breathy whisper.
She reaches up, dragging her fingers through my hair, pulling me closer.
“Oh my God!” she gasps, and not with pleasure this time. “Declan, why…what happened? Why is this…this mark brighter and why is there more of it?” Panic pulses through her questions.
I grip her wrist, careful not to touch the mark directly. The light beats in time with her pulse. “It’s spreading.”
She jerks her arm back. “Spreading? What do you mean spreading?”
I should’ve explained this to her instead of getting distracted first thing this morning.
She sits up, pressing her back to the pillows, then tugs the sheet up to her neck and curls her arms around her knees.
I rake my hand through my hair. Words taste like rust in my mouth. “It’s a tether. A piece of the Rider’s binding. When you touched me, you woke it up. It’s been climbing since.”
Her eyes widen. “Climbing to where?”
“To your heart.” The answer lands hard in the quiet room.
“When it gets there, he’ll own you the same way he owns me.
The curse doesn’t just mark. It claims.” I trace my fingers over the living, cursed ink on my own chest. “This isn’t decoration.
It’s alive. It’s both my cage and the conduit that keeps the Rider tethered. ”
Heat prickles beneath my skin like the ink resents being called what it is. Then the black lines shiver once and sink beneath the surface.
Emery flinches, wide eyes darting to my hand. “Tethered to what?”
My hand stills over my sternum. “To me. To my blood. My family was the anchor that bound him when he was first called up. Each generation inherits what’s left of the chain.” My voice roughens. “And I’m running out of links to give.”
I flex my fingers, watching the black lines ripple under my skin. “When he rides, when he claims someone, I feel it here.”
Her serious gaze remains fixed on me. “How do we end it?”
End it? No one in my family has ever tried. The Rider isn’t something you end. He’s something you survive. The Sterling Oath has always been about control. Containment. Not eliminating the Rider.
For the first time since I was branded, I want to believe the curse can be broken.
But what will it take from us first?