Chapter 26 #2
A spark ignites in his eyes. “Let me rephrase.” He steps toward me again, hunting. “Please take off your clothes, Aria. Show me what I’d burn the world down to protect.”
My throat tightens. “I don’t want you like that, Cyan,” I whisper, and even I hear the lie in my tone.
“Aye,” he whispers. “You keep saying that. But here? Your control outranks mine.” He crosses his arms, muscles flexing, gaze devouring me.
“I just want a glimpse of my obsession before I sleep. Please…Aria. Let me see what’s haunted my dreams.” All I have is my power over him—it’s my only weapon and I’m going to use it.
“I–I’ll give this to you; it means nothing. It’s just… my thanks. For saving me.” My fingers tremble as I lift my T-shirt. Then my shorts. Cool air skates over my skin as I stand there in my bra and panties.
“Those too.” His accent is deeper, and my core clenches. My bra falls first. His breath hitches. Then my boy shorts slide down, inch by torturous inch. Power crackles under my skin. His hunger is palpable as he drinks in every inch of me.
Then, in a voice made of smoke and sin. “I saw you naked before. On the security feed. It didn’t do your body justice.
That day at the lookout…I only got a glimpse of those sweet tits.
” His lips curve. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Dove.
” A small part of my brain screams at me to stop, to turn away, but another voice, dark, heady, hungry, holds my gaze to his.
I stand in the silence, eyes never leaving his, drunk on the knowledge that for all his dominance earlier, Cyan MacBrady–my monster, my predator–is unraveling for me.
Heat pools low in my belly, my arousal twisting, and it’s unbearable. I press my thighs together, reveling in my control over him. Cyan smiles, then he drops his boxers.
“Oh, my—” Words escape my lips before I can stop them. His cock is huge, and iron hard. Fuck me, he must be the devil; Cyan’s walking sin in human form, designed to tempt women to ruin. His lips hitch, slow and deliberate.
“You’re staring, Dove.”
He steps toward me. I turn away quickly, giving him a full view of my ass as I climb in.
He chuckles. “Loved the way you stared at my cock. Did you see it twitch for you?” I ignore him, grabbing a pillow and placing it between us.
He snatches it and throws it to the floor.
“Always with your little rebellions.” He climbs in behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against him. His cock presses into my lower back.
“Cyan...?”
“Relax,” his lips brush my ear. “We’re just sleeping.”
“It doesn’t feel like ‘just sleeping’ with what’s poking me in the back.”
He chuckles low. “Of course I want more with you. Touching you. Fucking you. Holding you while you sleep. Then fuck you again when I wake.”
My whole body jerks. I sit up, clutching the blanket to my chest. “Y-you said nothing happens unless I want it,” I’m, breathless.
Cyan props himself on one elbow, gaze dark and heated. “Correct. I won’t take you unless you ask, Aria.” The corner of his mouth curves. “But I won’t pretend I don’t want you.”
Heat flares through me in an unbearable rush. I sink back into the pillows, still gripping the blanket like it’s armor.
“Lights off,” Cyan says, and darkness swallows the room with only the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the windows.
For a moment, it’s quiet, only his fingers tracing slow circles around my belly button.
A tremor runs through me; my body is still humming from the way he looked at me…
like he could devour me and worship me in the same breath.
I need distance, anything to break the spell tightening in my core.
My mind remembers the ink sprawled across his back; it’s my lifeline and I grab it.
“Why the horse tattoo?”
“It’s not just a horse,” Cyan’s breath warms my temple, his presence wrapping around me like a net. “It’s an Irish Púca. A shapeshifter. Some call it a fairy. Others, a goblin. The folklore says it usually takes the form of a sleek black horse with a flowing mane.”
“Why the Púca? What does it mean to you?”
“It’s part of my heritage. I’m half-Irish.” His finger keeps circling lazily. “You have some characteristics remind me of a Púca.”
I frown. “You think I look like a goblin?” Old insecurities curl up my throat before I can stop them.
Cyan’s hand tightens at my waist. “No. A Púca is rare and beautiful… only seen when it chooses. The night I met you, you piqued my interest. But when you laughed…” His fingers brush my hip, a soft, unthinking stroke.
“It was like you shifted into something else. Like a dove flying into the sun–seen, but unreachable.”
I bite my lips, confused. I want to laugh it off, his words digging under my skin before I can shield myself. “No one’s ever described me like that. If I’m unreachable… then why do you keep trying?”
He chuckles softly. “Because I want to capture that light so it only shines for me.”
My chest tightens. “Now I know why you call me Dove.”
“Because you’re caged, but forever untamed.”
“I’m not your pet, Cyan. I don’t want this, don’t want you.”
His grip on my waist tightens, not painfully.
“That’s what you keep saying. But your body tells a different story.
” Heat crawls up my neck. “You forget the day at the lookout. The way you came for me. One of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
Your panties drenched in your juices–as the old saying goes, actions speak louder than words. ”
I shove past the heat rising inside me and focus on changing the subject. “Why did you choose this life? You’re smart, Cyan, a natural leader. You could’ve been... I don’t know normal.”
“Maybe I could’ve been. But life taught me early on that the sheep of this world get eaten. Better to be the wolf than the meal.” Something in his voice shifts. “If I had known then what I know now, I’d have become the wolf sooner.”
“What do you mean?”
“Things aren’t as black and white as you think.”
Silence settles between us. My limbs sink into the mattress, exhaustion pulling at me. Cyan shifts closer. “You smell like coconut.” His fingers slide into my curls, tucking strands behind my ear, lingering. “And you taste like nectar if only you let me drink straight from the source.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, suppressing the image of Cyan’s face between my legs. His hand drifts to my neck, massaging gently. I sigh, helpless. His touch trails lower… to my shoulder… down, down… sending sparks through my gut.
His palm cups my breast. A shock of dark, wicked pleasure streaks through me.
“Please, Dove let me explore you.” A soft, betraying moan escapes my lips.
Cyan takes that as a yes; his hand trails to my second breast, thumbs rolling lazily over nipple.
Heat floods my belly, warmth pooling between my thighs.
His mouth finds my skin. His hand cups my other breast, thumbs teasing my nipples, his breath turning ragged.
“Let me lick them,” he murmurs.
I turn onto my back, offering more. His mouth descends, hot and wet. I arch up to him, a shudder ripping through me as his tongue flicks over my sensitive nipple, teasing, sucking, owning.
“Cyan,” I gasp.
“Hmmm,” hums against my nipple. For a heartbeat, I let myself float, let myself forget where I am, who he is, what he’s taken from me. But then the fog thins. The locked doors, my grandmother, blood on the pavement.
This is the man who cages me with one hand and makes my body betray me with the other.
If I let this continue, I’ll lose myself piece by piece.
I must live up to all my family would have been.
His hand moves lower… “No.” I shove his shoulders.
“Stop!” He freezes, one long second, then another.
His breath is still warm against my skin.
He lifts his head. “Go to sleep, Aria.”
Cyan rolls onto his back, arms behind his head like he didn’t just have my body arching for him. I need to get out of here. I need to get away from him.