Chapter 14
“For God’s sake, Kate, it’s a bloody pool cue, not a battering ram.”
Luc’s exasperated but amused voice echoed through the compound’s library.
Kate glared at the splintered end of the cue stick in her hands, the third one she had snapped in the last hour.
She had been trying to learn to play billiards, an exercise Sophia had insisted upon to help her control her strength and move like a human again.
“I’m trying,” she grumbled, tossing the broken cue onto the plush Persian rug. “It’s not my fault these things are so flimsy”
Luc chuckled, leaning against the ornate, hand-carved billiard table. “You just have the unfortunate combination of a fledgling’s strength and an artist’s frustration. You’re trying to force it. The game is about finesse, not brute force.”
He was right, of course. Every time she tried to make a shot, her muscles, now imbued with supernatural power, would betray her. The cue ball would either rocket across the table with enough force to chip the slate or she would misjudge her own strength and snap the cue in two. It was infuriating.
“Show me again,” she said, her voice tight with annoyance.
Luc pushed off the table and selected a new cue from the wall rack. “Alright. Line up your shot. The corner pocket.”
Kate leaned over the table, her body tense with concentration. She tried to remember everything he had told her to do: relax her shoulders, keep her grip light, follow through smoothly. She lined up the cue, her eyes narrowed on the solid red ball.
“No, no, you’re all wrong,” Luc said, his voice suddenly closer. “Your stance is off, and you’re too stiff. You’re thinking like a fighter, not a player.”
Before she could protest, he was behind her, his body pressing against hers. The sudden, unexpected contact sent a jolt through her that had nothing to do with the game. His chest was a solid, warm wall against her back, and his scent—clean, masculine, with an edge of sandalwood—filled her senses.
“Here,” he whispered, his voice deep next to her ear. His hand rested on hers on the cue, and his fingers adjusted her grip. “Loosen up. Let the cue do the work.”
His other hand placed itself on her hip, giving a relaxed, guiding touch that changed her stance. “Like this. See?”
Kate couldn’t see anything. Her mind had gone completely blank.
Her heightened senses, which she was still learning to control, went into overdrive.
She felt the warmth of his body and the strength in the hand that covered hers.
It had been weeks since Devon had touched her intimately, and Aleksander’s psychic intrusion had ruined their recent attempts.
Her body craved physical contact and the comforting presence of another person.
It reacted before her mind could catch up.
A slow, insistent heat began to build deep in her belly.
Her breath hitched, and she felt the tell-tale slickness starting to form between her legs.
It was an involuntary, purely physical reaction, a betrayal by a body that still felt foreign to her.
She was horrified, mortified, and completely powerless to stop it.
She froze, her muscles locking up for a different reason.
Luc, aware of the sudden change in her body, went still behind her.
He must have felt the tremor that ran through her and sensed the sudden spike in her arousal.
The air between them, once filled with friendly ease, now crackled with a new, uncomfortable tension.
He stepped back immediately, his hands dropping away as if he’d been burned. “Kate,” he started, his voice strained, “it’s alright. It’s normal for fledglings. Your senses are heightened, your body is… adjusting. It doesn’t mean anything.”
She couldn’t look at him. She was staring at the red ball on the green felt, her face burning with a shame so intense it was almost painful.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Don’t be,” he said quickly. “It’s not your fault. It’s just… biology.”
And then a new presence made itself known. Neither of them had heard him approach, but suddenly, he was there, standing in the arched doorway of the library.
Devon.
His face was a carefully blank mask, but his eyes, those piercing chips of ice-blue, were fixed on them. There was no way to know how long he had been standing there, what he had seen, or what he had sensed. But Kate knew, with a sickening certainty, that he knew.
He was four hundred years old, a master of this world. He would have felt her arousal as clearly as if she had shouted it from the rooftops.
Luc shifted uncomfortably, a rare flicker of unease on his usually stoic face.
“Devon. I was just… teaching Kate to play.”
Devon’s gaze flickered to Luc, and for a fraction of a second, Kate saw something ancient and predatory in his eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by that unnerving calm. He looked back at Kate, his expression unreadable, and then, without a word, he turned and walked away.
The silence he left behind was a thousand times worse than the awkwardness of moments before. It was a cold, heavy thing, filled with unspoken accusations and the crushing weight of Kate’s shame.
“Go,” Luc said softly. “Talk to him. He’ll understand.”
Kate didn’t need to be told twice. She dropped the cue stick, the clatter of it hitting the floor echoing in the silent room, and ran after him.
She caught up to him in the long, vaulted hallway that led to their private quarters. He was walking with a deliberate, unhurried pace, his back ramrod straight, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.
“Devon, wait!” she called out, her voice echoing in the empty corridor. He didn’t slow down.
She ran, her new speed eating up the distance between them in a few frantic heartbeats. She grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “Please,” she begged, her voice cracking. “Please, just listen to me.”
He stopped then, but he didn’t turn to face her. He stood there, a statue of cold, controlled fury, the muscles in his back and shoulders corded with tension.
“It wasn’t what it looked like,” she said, her words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “I don’t know what happened. It was just… he was showing me how to hold the cue, and my body just… reacted. It didn’t mean anything, I swear.”
He was silent for a long, agonizing moment. Then, slowly, he turned. The look in his eyes made her take an involuntary step back.
The icy calm was gone, replaced by a raw, possessive fire that was both terrifying and thrilling. In one fluid, impossibly fast movement, he backed her against the cold stone wall, his body caging hers, his hands planting on the wall on either side of her head.
He was so close that the air crackled between them. She could feel the furnace-like heat of his body through her clothes, a stark contrast to the cold stone at her back. Every nerve ending in her body screamed to life, a symphony of alarm and agonizing arousal.
“I know what it was,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl that vibrated not just in her ears, but deep in her bones, making the fine hairs on her arms stand on end.
“I know it was a fledgling’s response. I know you are starved for touch because of him. I know it meant nothing.” He then leaned closer, his mouth hovering a breath away from her ear. His voice dropped to a whisper, a hot, intimate caress of sound against her skin that sent a shiver down her spine.
“And I know that it is my fault. I have been so focused on protecting you from him that I have neglected to give you what you fundamentally need. What we both need.”
His gaze traveled over her face, her neck, her collarbones as if he were trying to memorize every part of her.
“But that will change,” he promised, his voice thick with dark, possessive desire. “When he is dead, Kate. When he is just a bad memory and a pile of body parts, and you are truly free of him, I’m taking you back to our bed. And I’ll spend a week reminding you who you belong to.”
Her breath caught, and her heart pounded frantically against her ribs. His words felt like a brand; they sank into her skin and left a lingering heat behind.
“I’m going to fill you, own you, and possess you in every way possible, until the only scent on your skin is mine, until the only touch you remember is mine, until the only name you can cry out in the dark is mine.”
He leaned in, his lips barely touching hers with the lightest, most agonizing pressure that sent a rush of electricity through her. Goosebumps spread across her skin, a wave of prickling fire. Her own lips parted in a silent gasp, longing for more.
“And you are going to let me,” he whispered, his voice rough and broken. “You are going to beg me for it. Because you are mine, Kate. I am a very, very patient man. But my patience is running out.”
Then he kissed her. It wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was a fierce, possessive claiming. A desperate release of all the frustration, jealousy, and hunger he had been holding back.
His mouth was hard and demanding on hers, the angle punishing, his tongue plundering, tasting, owning every inch of her. It was the kiss of a starving man.
She melted against the wall, her body going limp, her mind reeling. She kissed him back with a desperation that matched his own, her hands coming up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.
Just as quickly as it started, it was over.
He pulled back with a sharp sound, leaving her lips feeling bruised and swollen.
He was breathing hard. His chest rose and fell in ragged waves.
His pupils were wide and dark. His eyes burned with a fire that promised countless nights of exquisite torment.
He leaned his forehead against hers for a brief moment. Their shared breath mingled in the cold air. A silent promise passed between them.
Then, he was gone. He pushed off the wall and walked away without a backward glance, leaving her to slide down the cold stone, her legs trembling too much to hold her. She was shaking, breathless, her body a live wire of unfulfilled need.
The ache inside her was a physical pain, a hollow, throbbing emptiness where he had been. The scent of him lingered in the air, a cruel reminder of the beautiful, fierce pleasure he had promised, and the agonizing wait she would have to endure to claim it.
He had shown her a glimpse of what was to come, a promise of the beautiful, fierce pleasure waiting for her on the other side of this war.
And God help her, she craved it.