Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Athena
I knew there was something weighing on him. Like a buoy in the midst of the sea, rising and falling with the waves like he were free, but tethered underneath the surface by an anchor that wouldn’t release him from its hold.
I imagined it was something—something more than a bank deposit—when he’d whipped into the safe house earlier with the fury of a firestorm. But I never imagined it was this .
I didn’t need to see his face to know his expression. Pain. Torture. It was in the ragged rhythm of his breaths and the way the ground bent under the shifting of his weight.
“My team and I…and Dr. Nilsen…we were Special Forces. Our mission was to infiltrate an insurgent camp. There was intel that one of the major rebel leaders in the region was hiding there, and we were tasked to take him out.”
I bit into my bottom lip. Meanwhile, the darkness in front of me twisted and shifted into shapes. Images fabricated from imagination to the tune of his tale .
“For weeks, we’d been working the area—in the local village—to collect information on where the camp was, how to best access it, and when.”
The trees rustled with a slight breeze, but I didn’t turn my head from the direction of his voice.
“It was a slow process. Grueling. Everyone was afraid to trust us. Afraid of what would happen to them. One day, there was an attack on the home of one of the local village leaders who supported us. A bomb. It destroyed most of the structure. I was closest when the attack occurred—I got there first to find him dead, his daughter wounded and weeping over him.”
My arms pulled tighter around my stomach, trying hard to hide how the pit there seemed to grow.
“I pulled her away. Stayed with her. Comforted her.” He paused as though telling this story involving the creation of a new language in order to speak it. “I saw her regularly after that. First, to check on her. Then, because she wanted to help us…”
“Because of her father.”
“Yeah,” he rasped and then cleared his throat. “She started bringing me information. Good intel. The best we’d gotten. And we…became close.”
Something new coiled in my chest at those words. Something sharp and possessive that tinted all the darkness around me green. Something I definitely had no right to feel.
“For a few more weeks, we pooled all our data. Analyzed it. Tested it. Came up with a plan.” His voice grew tighter, like a rubber band being stretched closer to the brink of its elasticity. “And then she told me the camp was moving. Imminently. Our plan had been to hit them when they were going to move, but we thought it would be another week at least. Now, we had one night, or we’d lose our best shot.”
My lips peeled apart, my breaths growing shallow .
“We argued. My—our team leader and I went back and forth for hours, but I swore up and down that I was right; that my source could be trusted.”
“The woman you loved.” I couldn’t stop myself from speaking, hating the heartbreak in my voice. Not just for him, but for some insane reason, my own heart hurt, wondering what it would be like to be loved by a man like Dare.
He ignored my words and pressed on like a recording that couldn’t be paused. “We moved up our timeline. And I was so sure. So damn sure that come morning, I’d be collecting apologies from all of them for their doubts.”
“Dare…” I pressed my hand to my mouth, willing myself to stop. I wanted to comfort him. To touch him and hold him and, in some way, make it easier to wade through this pain like he’d done for me. But he didn’t want that; I could feel it. He wanted the pain. He wanted to walk through this memory like it were a bed of hot coals, each step scorching his flesh and burning the guilt in his soul.
“It was an ambush. There were dozens of them waiting for us, and by the time we realized what was happening, it was too late.”
I knew the end of this story before it began, but only now, when his voice sounded like it was losing its grip, did the hot drip of tears leak down my cheeks. I had no idea if he could see them or not—if he was even looking—but I didn’t wipe them away just in case; I didn’t want to draw attention—I didn’t want him to know. I hoped the darkness hid them.
“Thank God, Ty managed to get us a single fighter on air support, otherwise, we all would’ve died. Instead…instead, it was only my friend Ryan who was wounded badly. We got out of there, but he…he didn’t make it.”
“I’m so sorry.” The words didn’t feel big enough. They never did. I thought back to when Mom had passed, all the apologies felt like a single drop in the sea of sorrow, evaporating too quickly before they even had a chance to soak in.
“Why? Why did she betray you?” As deep as the hurt I felt for his loss, I also felt a sharp surge of anger. How could she have forsaken a love like yours? “After her father?—”
“She killed her father.”
I sucked in a breath, another gust of wind blowing around us, even nature shaken by the depth of his pain.
“She’d been working with the insurgents the entire time—brainwashed by them first to spy on him, but when we showed up asking questions, they decided on a bigger plan.”
“She killed her own father…”
“To gain my sympathy. My trust.” And his blind affection.
“Dare…”
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” he ordered harshly, his words sounding like a kind of self-flagellation. “Feel sorry for Ryan who lost his life because of my mistake. For the rest of my team who almost died that day. Feel sorry for them, but not for me.”
I wanted to protest. I wanted to protest so badly, it made me nauseous to swallow the words down. And then it made me start to shake. My stomach. My chest. My shoulders. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it wasn’t enough to stop more tears from falling.
“Athena…” His groan tore from the center of his chest, and then the warm pad of his thumb brushed my cheek. “Don’t cry for me. I don’t deserve your tears.”
I lifted my chin. “Then what do you deserve?”
“Pain. Penance.” His suffering was raw and bleeding from his voice.
Death was what I heard in his tone. He believed he deserved to die, too.
I reached out again, finding the hard base of his chest, the muscles underneath rippling with tiny detonations of desire .
“Athena…” he pleaded as my hands slid higher, up the thick column of his neck, the pound of his pulse greeting my fingertips until I reached his face.
“And what if I want to give you peace?”
I didn’t know a man as big as him could quake the way he did. A massive shudder that seemed to loosen his muscles from his bones and shake every ounce of oxygen not only from his lungs but from each cell of his blood.
“You can’t,” he said flatly. “A man died because of me.”
How had he carried this weight for so long? I knew loss. I knew how the pain of losing a loved one scarred the heart so it never beat the same again. But this…to have every good memory knotted to guilt, and to have that guilt then tied to the idea of love…
“And I’m alive because of you,” I countered, feeling how he tensed, surprised by my claim.
He took a deep breath and released it with a low curse. “It’s not enough.”
He was so…good. So heroic and protective, tender and loyal. When I thought of him, those were the only things that came to mind. It was strange to describe someone in those words, but what other ones did I have? I didn’t know if his eyes were blue or brown. If his skin was as pale as snow or dark as coffee. If his hair was black or blond. I was an artist. All my life, I’ve relied on sight to describe a person in my mind and translate that onto a page.
But I didn’t have that with Dare. All I had were words that made me feel like I saw him better—saw the real him. All the parts a person didn’t need eyes to see.
Even the feel of his face hadn’t painted a picture of him quite as clearly as his actions did. The way he took care of me. The softness of his touch. The utter devotion of his protection. And the pain he caused himself as penance for a guilt that didn’t belong to him.
He didn’t deserve the way he treated himself. Even if he wasn’t mine, I had to be the one to make him see that.
“What would be enough?” I probed, inching myself closer to him. “Their everlasting hatred? Your own death?”
“It should’ve been me. I was the one who trusted her. I’m responsible for Ryan’s death. I should’ve been the one who died that day.” He tried to pull away, but I wouldn’t let him.
“Instead, you’ve been the one who’s died every day since.”
He stilled. “What?”
“You gave them information—the best you had and to the best of your ability—like Prometheus gave fire to the humans. You gave them something you thought had potential. For good or for bad. You didn’t force them to use it?—”
“No, but I fought like hell for them to listen to me, to act?—”
“You made a decision. They made a decision. It ended tragically. But that doesn’t make you responsible for his death.”Another tear made its way down my cheek. I couldn’t see, but I could see him. I could see the layers of man and muscle ripped open by his own hands. By the sharp claws of guilt sinking into the depths of his vulnerability and shredding it until there was nothing left but a tortured soul. “How many days have you ripped yourself apart because of this?” I whispered.
“Too many.” His jaw flexed. “Not enough.”
“What will be enough?”
“Athena…” He couldn’t wipe my tears away fast enough. “Please, you can’t fix this. I’m not worth it.”
Once again, I felt more because of the darkness that engulfed me. I felt his desolation. His isolation. And I felt my heart break.
“But you are,” I murmured, my fingers finding their way over his cheekbones to the bridge of his nose, and from there, down until I felt the softness of his lips. “You are worthy.”
His groan rumbled against my fingertips. “No, Athena, you don’t know me?—”
“You’re wrong. I might not know what you look like or all about your past, but I know the scent of you like my lungs know oxygen. I know how your voice changes when you’re worried or when you’re calm. I know the gentleness of your touch. The bravery of your heart?—”
“Enough.” He tried to pull away, but I wouldn’t let go.
“Is it me? Am I not worth it?”
Suddenly, I was against him, his arm barricading my back from all escape. “Never say that,” he rasped, his forehead pressing to mine.
“Then what is it?”
“You deserve better.” His lips were close, the rush of warm air that carried each word caressed my own.
My head swayed a little. He didn’t understand. Not at all.
I might be blind, but Dare was the one who couldn’t see.
“Better?” I murmured, tipping my head and moving my hands to frame his mouth. “There is no one better than you.”
His lips were parted in protest when mine pressed to them. He wanted to keep fighting for his own guilt—his own villainy—but I wouldn’t let him.
He stood so still, like a stone tomb resting above the ground, housing the soul of a man who deserved to live rather than bury himself alive.
I whimpered and slanted my mouth, pulling closer to him. How could someone have used him that way? To take the trust of a man who was so willing to give everything and then use it against him?
There wasn’t any room for jealousy of the woman who’d captured Dare’s heart so strongly, only disbelief and pity . She’d forsaken one of the very best of men, and in doing so, had wounded him in a way he wouldn’t let heal.
“Athena…” Dare murmured, the whole of him rippling with restraint.
I wished in that moment not for my own sight but for his. For him to see that I wanted him…and that he was deserving.
And so I dragged my tongue along his lips and murmured, “All of your broken pieces, I see them. I see them, and it doesn’t change the way I want you.”
The groan he made was the sound of stone cracking. Shattering and then crumbling. His tomb breaking open and setting him free.
His arms snaked around me, holding me as the kiss deepened. Now, it was tongues sparring and twisting, the bold strokes painting desire in vibrant shades of red all through my body.
“Dare.” I shivered when his hand cupped the back of my neck, letting my head fall back so his mouth could settle on my throat and the thump of my pulse.
I angled toward him, needing to be closer, and shivered when his other hand found my ass and held me tight to the hard length at his waist. My hips rocked forward, and he tensed like I’d just brought him to the edge of a cliff.
His heavy breaths rushed against my neck as he drew back with the painful precision of a man who was defusing a bomb.
“Athena, I can’t,” he croaked. “I shouldn’t?—”
“I’m not asking you to,” I murmured. “I’m asking you to let me.” I reached between us and felt for his cock .
“Let you—” He broke off with a hoarse groan that melted into a hiss, pain and pleasure coming together in the most exquisite way, like rain and sunshine into a rainbow. “Jesus…”
The long ridge filling my hand swelled even thicker, and his arms released me. “You shouldn’t?—”
He meant to let me go—to push me away and punish himself. But I wouldn’t let him. At least, I was going to do everything I could to prevent it.
He’d saved my life, and now I wanted to show him there was no guilt for him to live his. Or to want me.
So, I lowered to my knees, the grass cool beneath me.
“What are you doing?” He took my wrists, imprisoning them at his waist, but he couldn’t bring himself to move them away.
I tipped my head, staring into darkness as I slid my tongue over my lips. “I want to taste you.” I’d never been so bold. Never used words to paint a picture of exactly what I wanted. But there was a comfort in being around him…and a kind of freedom in this cognitive blindfold.
“No, you don’t.” He ground out, but he still didn’t move my hands.
“Why not?”
I could easily distinguish his forced exhale from the soft rush of the breeze.
“Because you don’t know what you’re in for.”
“I don’t care. I want you.”
He took both my wrists in his one hand, the movement sending both a rush of heat from my core and a knot of panic in my chest. Was this it? The only thing worse than a fool was one on her knees.
And then a sound caught my ear—one that sparked hope—and then ignited into a full-blown flame when the subtle peel of a zipper reached my ears.
Instantly, every inch of my body came to life. My nipples tightened into my shirt. The ache in my core intensified. And my mouth parted, anticipation making it impossible to swallow.
I couldn’t see a single thing, but I felt the moment he pulled his cock free. A wave of relief went through him, reaching all the way to the fingers that imprisoned my hands. The air around me turned thicker. Hotter. Filled with something big and foreign.
“You say you don’t care…” He fed one of my hands to his other one, my palm instantly opening like a brazen beggar.
And then thick, soft steel filled my fingers.
His hips jerked the instant I tried to grip him, and he let out a rough curse.
He was big—so big that the adage “seeing is believing” wouldn’t have been enough. This was the only way I could know— could believe— by trying to hold all of him in my grasp.
“You have no idea.” He sounded like I was torturing him—like I was killing him with a single touch.
And then he dragged my hand along his length. Inch after inch after inch, until I started to wonder how much more there could be, my body sensing how close my hand drew to my mouth. But then my hand hit something unexpected. Something hard and protruding and…metal.
I gasped, my fingers frantic in their exploration to understand. “What…is this?” The huskiness in my voice betrayed my desire as I fingered each end of the piercings.
Four metal balls protruded from his tip, the cool metal nestled against his straining heat. I’d never…I mean, I knew of genital piercings. Things like a Prince Albert or a Jacob’s ladder. But this…
“A magic cross.” His voice was stretched to its breathing point, with more roughness than tone.
Magic cross .
My mouth watered over the image my hand painted. His massive length pierced straight through by two bars, leaving four round ends adorning the head of his cock.
“You’ve tortured yourself long enough,” I murmured. “Tonight, let me torture you.”
“Athena…” His groan was so deep, I swore it rooted him to the forest floor as I closed my lips over his head.
He felt incredible in my mouth. Soft and hot, my tongue swirled around him before finally licking over his tip, tasting the salty bead of moisture on my tongue.
“ Fuck.” His control snapped. One hand anchored the back of my head, the other grabbed my chin, forcing it wide to accommodate his piercings.
They felt foreign against my tongue and the roof of my mouth—immovable steel that seemed to make the rest of him feel even larger between my lips than he had in my fingers. But the power they gave me over him was electrifying.
His shivers and grunts became my very favorite compliments as my tongue explored his cock and its hardware. Swirling and licking. Sucking and stroking. The rough curses charging through his lips spurred me just as his hand on my head coaxed—begged me to take more of him.
But I didn’t want more. I wanted it all. I wanted all his broken pieces. All the rough edges and sharp corners. All the emotion he bottled up and all the wants he thought he didn’t deserve. I wanted every inch of him— unrestrained. And I still didn’t have that yet.
He still kept the well of his desire in check, and I didn’t want that. I wanted his vulnerability. Needed it. So, I drew him deeper—sucked harder. All those inches deep into my mouth, headed for my throat as saliva dripped down my chin.
“Torture me? You’re going to kill me, Angel.”
Angel. I stilled—a memory hitting me that had no place in this moment. A memory of another time. Another man. And then it was gone. Replaced by the very large, very real savior in front of me.
I slid my hand to cup his balls, and he lost it. His hand braced my head as he thrust deep, the tip of him knocking against the back of my throat, making me choke.
“Is this what you had in mind?” he growled, angry at himself as he tried to pull back.
But I wouldn’t let him. My hands found anchor on the sides of his thighs, holding tight as I did my best to nod, Yes.
“My broken pieces weren’t enough, you wanted my pierced cock, too,” he said, fisting my hair and angling me so he could push deep again. “You deserve better than this.” But the strain in his voice confessed he couldn’t stop himself now.
And I didn’t want him to.
I flicked my tongue along his length, enjoying the soft curses it ripped from his lips.
“But you look so beautiful. God, I’ve never seen anything this beautiful.” He spoke like he knew I needed to hear him. “The way your lips are stretched around me. You’re drooling like such a good girl.”
I held tight while he used my mouth like a man undone. I took and took and took everything he was willing to give, feeling my own pleasure swell like a wave of fire between my legs.
“Fuck,” he rasped, the husk of his voice reaching between my thighs. “This is going to end me. Is that what you wanted? To kill me with your lips?”
I moaned, and the sound tightened my throat around him.
“Fuck.” He jerked free.
I gasped in a breath, searching the darkness for him as I murmured, “Isn’t that what you want?”
“Not even close,” he swore, his fingers framing my chin, his thumb running back and forth over my swollen, tingly bottom lip. “I want to have my fingers buried inside you. My tongue. My cock. I want to put every piece of me inside you like you can make me whole again.”
I shivered. “Yes.”
“But you can’t,” he warned. “You think I’m a good man. I’m not. I’ve dreamed about your breasts since the other night. The way they hung heavy in front of you when you fell. How red the hot water made your nipples.” He let out a harsh laugh. “The water and soap didn’t hide them from me, did you know that? I looked my fucking fill as I fingered you?—”
“I didn’t know,” I interrupted boldly. “But I hoped.”
“Dammit, Athena…”
“I won’t hate you,” I pressed. “I know you want me to. I know you want everyone to so you feel justified in hating yourself, but I won’t. I refuse.”
“I could make you hate me,” he rumbled, and then he pressed his tip back to my lips.
My tongue darted out to catch a taste before he was gone. “You could try.”
“Touch yourself,” he ordered. “Touch yourself like I did the other night. Make that sweet little pussy of yours come like a good girl.”
I didn’t need more encouragement for my hand to reach between my legs and find the aching bud of my clit.
Stars exploded as I rubbed myself. I was so turned on by the way he ravaged my mouth that I couldn’t come without any touch. But I wanted to please him. God, I wanted to please him.
“Please, Dare,” I begged, my body spiraling higher.
“Such a good girl, my angel.” His thumb pressed on my bottom lip, forcing my teeth to release it. “So good…too good…the second I’m back in your mouth, I’m going to come.” Betw een his words, I heard the steady drag of his hand along his length, simultaneously giving himself some relief while holding himself at bay.
“Yes,” I murmured, my toes curling against the dirt.
“That’s it…get there so I can fuck your beautiful face.”
I gasped as my orgasm ripped through me like I’d stepped on a landmine. My body tightened and exploded in violent pleasure, but the scream that welled in the center of my chest never made it free.
His cock pushed through my rounded lips all the way to the back of my throat, spearing my scream with the point of his promise.
My moans, my gasps for air, they all crumbled around the invasion of his cock. Thrust after thrust after thrust, his piercings marked their very own path to the back of my throat. And then, above the sparkling pleasure of my release and the feral feel of him in my mouth, I heard him—the roar of a man slain.
Or perhaps the roar of a man rising from the dead.
The sound barreled out around us as he came deep in my throat, my tongue trying to swallow down the thick heat of his release. There was too much of it—or too much of him in my mouth—that everything overflowed, leaking from the corners of my lips and running down my chin.
“Fuck.” He let off the pressure, air instantly filling deep into my lungs. I’d forgotten the essential nature of breathing until he’d slid his length from my mouth, and I sputtered for breath.
Resting back on my heels, my body fought to stabilize itself, but my mind only searched for him. The taste of him on my tongue. The scent of him was still pinned to my nostrils. And the sound of him—his rough breaths and the slick sound of flesh on flesh.
“Dare…” My voice hardly existed after the way he’d claimed my throat.
His only response was another low groan, followed by a soft patter, almost like raindrops on leaves. I inhaled sharply. He was still coming…but onto the grass next to us.
“ Shit, I’m sorry.” He huffed, and I heard the rustle of his pants and zipper as he tucked himself away. “That was—I was?—”
“Incredible.”
The air bent and warmed as he crouched in front of me. “You’re incredible.” His palm framed my cheek, and I let my eyes flutter closed as he wiped my lips and chin clean with his shirtsleeve. “Let’s go inside.”
Strong hands didn’t just help me up, they reached under my knees and around my back, lifting me entirely off earth and into his arms.
“Dare…”
“Shh.”
I settled against his shoulder, listening to the steady beat of his heart as he brought us back inside. I didn’t speak, afraid to break the tenderness of the moment as he carefully set me on the bed.
“Don’t move.”
Heavy footsteps. The rush of the faucet. The heat of his approach. The warmth of his palm on my knee.
“Spread your legs.”
I did…but far wider than he needed.
“Goddamn.” His hand tightened.
He hauled me to the edge of the bed and covered me with his mouth.
“Dare,” I gasped, clutching his head as his tongue fluttered over my sensitive clit.
Instantly, I was spiraling again. Toward the cloudless sky. Toward the constellations. Toward release. I clawed his head as he ate me like a man starved.
“So fucking good,” he growled. “Couldn’t help myself, Angel.”
I shivered. There was still something about the way he called me Angel.
I started to tip and tilt, surely a trick of my mind on my body. The world shouldn’t be shifting. Tipping. Except it was.
I let out a cry as he moved backward and took me with him. My arms shot out, though it was his hold that kept me from landing anywhere but on his face.
“Are you okay?” I tried to move off of him, but he wouldn’t let me.
“I’ll be okay when you stop worrying about me,” he groused.
I knew the words were meant to be superficial—a careless order—but there was a depth to them I couldn’t help but hear: the depths of a broken man who didn’t want to take anyone down with his self-inflicted misery.
“Dare…” I moaned when his tongue slid through my folds, the firm velvet marking a path from my entrance to my clit.
“Stop talking, Athena. Stop worrying,” he ordered, dipping his tongue inside me. “Now, be a good girl and fuck my face.”
My back bowed with pleasure, my body obeying his command. I ground into his hungry mouth, rocking against the torture of his tongue.
“Good girl,” he cooed, using his teeth to scrape along my clit.
“Dare,” I panted, rocking faster. Harder.
Could I break his face? Was it possible? I didn’t know—couldn’t see— couldn’t care. And then his grip tightened on my ass as though he knew what I was thinking, and he urged me on—begged me to use his mouth like he’d used mine .
“God, yes,” I hummed, my head tipping back.
His tongue swirled and flicked with the expertise of a painter’s brush, creating a masterpiece of pleasure. I twisted my fingers in his hair, whimpering as I barreled toward another climax. And then his lips closed around my clit and sucked, and it was like a lightning bolt straight to my chest.
Thousands of volts of pleasure right to my core.
And then he did it again.
I came again, but this time, my cry blistered around us. It was too much—too intense. My heart galloped out of my chest. My lungs refused all oxygen. And for a second—a single split second—I swore I saw the shadowed outline of a man between my legs, the vague shadows of his scarred face hungrily devouring my pussy. And then the split second was gone, leaving nothing but the drowning sensation of his tongue milking my clit.
By the time any semblance of reality started to come back, I was convinced I’d imagined the image of him—an image that was both reality and fantasy at the same time.
“Good girl,” he rumbled against my sex, dragging his tongue in one more firm lick over me.
Darkness sparkled around me, my orgasm glittering the pitch black with a myriad of colored flecks. I hardly realized when he was lifting me and laying me back on the bed. Now, my limbs felt like stranded stars, waiting for gravity to pull them back into a familiar shape.
The warm fog of my orgasm eventually shifted into the cozy comfort of the sheets as he pulled them over me.
Just me.
I felt the small puncture into my blissful bubble. “Dare…” I felt his pause. “Will you stay?”
The second pause was even more painful in length.
“You should rest. ”
That was a no.
His steps were quieter over to the door, almost like he didn’t want me to hear him go.
“You won’t even go one night without punishing yourself?”
His rough exhale was the brittle skeleton of a laugh. “To only have one night with you would be a punishment for every night for the rest of my life,” he said with such painstaking sincerity that my heart was still floating in the words when the door clicked shut behind him.