Chapter 24 #2
A promise was a bond in the fae world. They didn’t throw them around or break them as humans often did.
“Thank you,” I croaked, biting on my lip, not able to think of all the things I wanted to say. He had only known me for a day and already treated me as a friend, once again blowing to shreds the notion that fae were evil and less than humans. “You have been beyond kind to me.”
“It’s what family does.” His fingers pressed into my skin, making sure the film stuck around the edges of the gauze.
“Family?”
“You saved someone I consider a brother; that makes you family to me.” Ash continued to work, not realizing the effect of his words.
I tried to fight the tears sliding down my cheek, my emotions from the day, hell, the past few months, hitting me.
“I can’t explain it, but the moment Warwick brought you in, I felt as if I’ve known you forever, like you are part of us. ”
I wiped at another stray tear.
“And if tonight tells us anything, in a way you have been.” He winked cheekily at me.
A dry chuckle twisted in my throat, several more drops escaping down my face.
“Hey.” Ash straightened, noticing them, cupping my face. “You’re not alone, okay? We’ll figure this out.”
My lids closed briefly, the warmth of his comforting words washing over me, driving up my emotion. His energy filled the room, coating my body, making me inhale.
“Sorry,” he muttered, his mouth only inches away. “I’m trying to suppress it as much as I can, but it’s difficult. Especially around you.”
“I don’t want you to not be yourself.” My gaze went to his. He was so calm, caring, and sensual. I wanted to wrap myself up in him, let him take away the pain and feel wonderful for a moment. He would be easy to fall for . . . if I were another girl.
Or at least a smart one. But I seemed to be drawn to the dickheads.
“Don’t let Warwick’s mood bother you. He’s always been a bullheaded, cranky asshole.” Ash’s description brought a slight smile to my lips.
“And egotistical,” I added.
He laughed, nodding. “He is certainly that too.” Ash’s expression went serious. “For twenty years, he’s held revenge and death in his heart. Vacant of life. But with you? I haven’t seen him this way in a long time.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was almost a machine before. Only killing made him feel alive. But with you . . . ?” Ash’s eyes tracked mine. “You have a power, Brexley. Something I can’t explain . . . it pushes all the death and ugliness away. It’s like he can breathe again.”
His proximity rattled my nerves, forcing my head to look down and step back. Ash’s compassion, sexual nature, and honesty were difficult to fight.
“You need help getting undressed?” Ash grinned playfully. “Hair washed? Body scrubbed down?”
“I’ve got it.” Deep, raspy, and vibrating with ire, Warwick’s voice snapped over Ash’s shoulder. He filled the entire doorway, leaning against the jamb, his glare set on the back of Ash’s head. “You can get the fuck out.”
A huge smile curved on Ash’s face, stepping away. “Guess I will go see what I can gather up for dinner. Take a long walk to my vegetable garden a really long walk.” He winked at me before heading out, patting Warwick’s arm as he squeezed past him, shutting the door, leaving us alone.
“You’re back.” Captain Obvious reporting for duty here.
His gaze crawled over my skin, heavy and intense, his face void of emotion.
“What?” I tugged on the ends of my hair with aggravation. “I’m too exhausted to deal with this right now. Get to it or get out.”
He pushed off the wall, taking a step toward me, his eyes never leaving me as he tugged his shirt over his head, his abs rippling as he moved, ink rolling over muscle.
Oxygen filled my lungs, my eyes locking on his sculpted torso. Marred and inked, it was even more beautiful because of its scars. The stories it told, the battles it won. Fuck . . . This man’s physique. He needed to warn me before he did shit like that.
He kicked off his boots, his hands moving to his trousers, yanking them off, his boxer briefs following . . .
Holy mother of all that’s massive. I was never prepared for this man clothed, but naked, he flipped my entire world off its axis, emptying my brain.
“What are you doing?” My voice came out small and flimsy, reminding me of the first time he stepped into the shower room at Halálház with me.
He strolled toward me, hard, feral, and confident, smashing the energy Ash held into smithereens. Everything about Warwick was unapologetic, raw, and severe.
My thighs clenched, my eyes darting away as fierce desire lit my nerves on fire. Naked, this man was a sin. One I wanted to commit over and over.
He gripped the bottom of my T-shirt, gently pulling it from my frame, my body responding to his, need coursing from my head to my toes. The cool air licked over my skin. “Warwick . . . ?” My chest heaved, feeling his presence coating me, invisible hands sliding down my thighs, over my arms.
“No talking,” he rumbled, turning me around to face the shower, tilting my head under the spray. His fingers paused at the top of my knickers, I could feel him searching for an answer, waiting for some kind of no, but he wouldn’t get one.
His hands glided down my legs as he pulled off my underwear, my back arching as heat scored up my spine. He reached over, grabbing the homemade shampoo, and poured it into his hand. His fingers tangled through my hair as he massaged my head.
This reminded me so much of the first time we showered together, when I first felt the pull to him and the strange sense of him touching me without physically doing it.
Little did we understand then what was ahead.
I could no longer deny it or pretend it was all in my head.
I leaned into the solid feeling of his spirit hands running across my stomach and over my legs, as his real hands washed my hair.
There was no difference between either kind of touch.
The connection between us seemed only to be getting stronger.
Water cascaded down me as he washed the soap from my hair, careful to keep my left side mostly out of the water stream.
He pushed in closer to me, his hips pressing close enough for me to feel him hard and pulsing against my ass.
I bit back a moan, invisible hands caressing and sliding over my figure, my nerves humming to life, and stilting my breath.
Pain was gone. Only lust and desire raked through me, my head floating away as I gave in to the sensations.
His hands coated the ends of my hair in conditioner before grabbing a bar of soap.
I sucked in as he glided the soap between my breasts, then slid it slowly over one nipple.
With a soft groan, I tilted my head back into his shoulder, his free hand wrapping firmer around my waist. Soaping up my breasts, nonexistent hands traced and pinched at my nipples, leaving my entire body on fire.
Need throbbed my core, my ass curving back into him.
A noise vibrated from his chest, the soap slipping down my torso, stopping right at my pussy, making me ache with need. His cock throbbed against my back, and I spread my legs, needing him.
“Warwick,” I whispered his name, pushing back into him.
He drew the bar of soap up, cleaning the dry blood around my wounds.
His real hands stayed up higher, but I felt his phantom hands continue down, the sensation of fingers slipping through my folds making my breath hitch.
He held me firmer against him as he fitted his enormous length between my ass cheeks, letting me feel every vein and pulse.
Logic evaporated into the steam, my body rolling back into him. The ghost fingers prodded my legs to open more as they found their way inside.
“Baszd meg!” Air rushed through my teeth, and I parted my lips. His head didn’t move, but I could feel his mouth skating up my neck, drawling out a louder moan. I could feel the intensity as he pumped his fingers into me, then a tongue slid through me. “Oh, gods . . . don’t stop.”
His tongue flicked and nipped so powerfully I started to tremble.
Pleasure hit so deep in my bones, I no longer felt I was tied to anything real, losing all track of when and where we were.
A loud cry broke from my lips, and my teeth drove into my bottom lip.
Warwick was everywhere; his mouth, teeth, and fingers touched, nipped, kissed, and licked my skin as a pressure rubbed over my core.
“Oh, gods . . . fuck . . . Warwick.”
I lost all control of myself as he moved quicker, building the friction, my climax racing toward me. His ghost fingers curled as his thumb worked the sensitive part. I felt his warm mouth consume me, sucking on my clit. Then he nipped down.
A guttural cry sprang up my throat as everything shattered, my body violently thrashing as my climax consumed me, everything in me going limp.
Warwick clutched me to him, holding me up, his palm pressing into my chest like he wanted to feel me gasping for air, feel every ounce of life throbbing through me.
I wheezed and heaved for oxygen, slowly coming back to myself. “Fuck,” I muttered, my limbs feeling like jelly.
“And think . . . I didn’t even actually touch you.” His voice was thick and rough in my ear.
Shit. I didn’t know if I could handle the real thing.
Rinsing us off, he shuffled me out of the shower, wrapping a towel around me and gently drying the places near my wounds. Wordlessly he dressed me in a tank and fresh underwear before ushering me into the bedroom.
“Get some sleep,” he muttered, helping me crawl into bed, my body boneless and my mind empty of thought or worry, as if he knew exactly what I needed to sleep.
Warwick grabbed some of his clothes out of the bag he brought, pulling on sweatpants, outlining everything he was trying to cover underneath. His erection tented his pants so sinfully, heat pulsed through me again.
Fuck. Me.
I curled onto my good side, away from temptation, wanting him to stay, but my mouth wouldn’t open to ask.
The bed dipped with his weight as he crawled in, scooting behind me. “Just tonight.” He answered the question I never asked.
A truce for the night, nothing but him and me before everything tangled and weaved into knots again. We could deal with all this in the morning.
His massive frame curled behind me, blanketing me in warmth and security. My insanely unbelievable orgasm only took the edge off the desire building back up as his body wrapped around mine, his cock still pressed into the back of me.
“Sleep, princess,” he muttered in my ear. Sighing deeply, content and relaxed, I let go.
Darkness took me quickly, but right before I went under, I felt his lips brush my temple.
“Te valodi vagy . . . sotét démonom.”
You are real . . . my dark demon.