Fury of Ice (Dragonfury Series #2) Page 22
Angela’s mouth dropped open.
“B?” Rigid with fury, Rikar cracked his knuckles. The sound ricocheted, sending shivers down her spine. “I’m gonna mess him up a bit. You can still talk to a quadriplegic.”
“I’m good with that,” Bastian said, tone soft yet somehow lethal.
“Ah, Bastian?” Myst said. “I don’t think that’s—”
“Time to go, bellmia.”
The soft scrape of boots on concrete drifted from behind Angela. Movement flashed in her periphery, and Myst gasped. Wonderful. Bastian was on the move, scooping his mate up and headed toward the door. Next stop? Angela. She read his intention without any effort. He planned to grab her on the fly and haul both her and Myst out of the cellblock. Which…yup. Would leave Rikar to beat the snot out of Forge in private.
One eye on Bastian, Angela kicked out of her footwear. She needed traction, and bare feet worked better on concrete than smooth-soled flip-flops. Timing it just right, Angela slid beneath Rikar’s arm, avoiding Bastian’s hand as he reached for her. A quick one-two sidestep and…
Bam!
She planted herself in front of Rikar. “Back off, man. It isn’t gonna happen.”
Ice-blue eyes met hers. She held up her hands. Rikar growled, warning her without words. Angela stifled a shiver but stood her ground. No way could she allow him anywhere near Forge. She needed the guy. He’d provided valuable intel. Would no doubt give her more. So, yeah. Rearranging the prisoner’s face wasn’t on Rikar’s menu. Not today. Maybe not ever.
“I’m touched, Ange,” Forge said, playing it up for his audience. “I didnae know you cared so—”
“Shut up,” she said, snapping at him. “Stop being such a jackass.”
“Move, angel.”
“No.”
A muscle jumped along Rikar’s jaw. He dodged right. She slapped her hands against his chest, keeping him in front of her.
Electricity leapt, arcing from her palms. She sucked in a quick breath. Rikar cursed as the current grabbed hold, swirling up her arms to flow unrestricted to her heart. It paused midbeat as pleasure spun through her, making her skin tingle as sensation lit her up and heat settled woman-low.
She gasped. Holy moly. Heat lightning. Orgasm in a bottle. Full-on pleasure. How fascinating. The big bang without the sex.
“Fuck me,” Rikar groaned, retreating as she pushed him toward the back wall. “Angela…let go. You gotta…oh, God.”
Let go? No chance in hell. He felt too good. She didn’t want to back away and…
God, he smelled fantastic, like chilly winter mornings and fresh arctic air. Combine that with the current throbbing through her veins, and oh, man…she needed more.
“Rikar? Can you…just…” Her breath caught as she closed the distance, brushing her body against his. Moving closer, she pressed her cheek to his chest. Right over his heart, and gasped, “Gimme more.”
“Good Christ.” His back collided with the wall as he encircled her wrists. Pressing his thumbs to her pulse points, he drew her closer while simultaneously trying to push her away. “Baby, you’re…holy shit.”
Forge laughed. “A wee bit peckish, arenae you, Frosty?”
Ignoring the jerk in the cage, she said, “Please, Rikar.”
“God, angel. Whatever you want.” Threading his hand through her hair, he cupped her nape while his other arm came around her. She moaned. He hummed and picked her up, pivoting into a 180-degree turn. Cold steel settled against her back as he whispered, “My beautiful angel, I know you’re not ready for me, but I’m so hungry, love. So fucking hungry.”
Hungry.
Panic swirled for a second. Fear followed suit, but Angela refused to listen. This was her chance. Maybe the only one she would get to experience the relief Forge had promised her firsthand. So, yeah. All her uncertainty could go hang itself. She wanted Rikar. Needed to touch him and be touched in return. To feel peace instead of the pain. To forget for just a little while and pretend she was the same as she’d always been. Untainted. Unchanged. Unashamed by what had happened to her.
“Relax for me, love. Let me in.” Flicking at her hoodie, Rikar slipped his hand beneath the hem, seeking her skin. As his hand settled, fingers splayed wide on her lower back, he murmured to her. Sweet words filled with praise and reassurance: promises to be gentle, to go slowly, giving her ultimate control. His breath warm against her temple, he pressed his knee between hers, spreading her thighs to make room for his own. “Please, Angela. I need you.”
His please did her in. Made her blink back the hot burn of tears. The rat-bastard hadn’t asked. He’d taken: forced and hurt and brutalized. But Rikar wasn’t like him. His hands were gentle, and his voice pleading. Asking her permission. Giving her the choice to draw him in or push him away.
Myst’s voice came back to her…I like feeding Bastian. A lot.
And just like that, the last of the fear vanished. Rikar needed her. She would provide for him. End of story.
With a welcoming murmur, Angela pressed her cheek to his. He burrowed into her embrace, nestling in as he set his mouth against her temple. Bliss swirled, reaching deep, rising hard, flowing fast in the face of desire. She slid her hands over his shoulders, exploring his strength before cupping the nape of his neck. God, his hair was soft. Short, yes, but unbelievably thick. And as she marveled at the feel of him, allowing her fingers to play, his teeth grazed the pulse pounding beneath her skin, making her gasp as she did as he asked and invited him in.
His breath hitched.
She pulled him closer. “It’s all right, Rikar. Take what you need.”
“My beautiful female.” He kissed her softly, an ache in his voice as he whispered, “Forgive me for my greed.”
But as he hugged her close and drank deep, Angela knew there was nothing to forgive. He was what he was. She possessed what he needed. No changing that fact. No going back, either.
A delicious scent all around him, Rikar woke up riding a wave of glory-glory-hallelujah. With a hum, he opened his eyes and blinked, getting nothing but blur. He let his lids drift closed again. Shit, he was groggy, deep in the layer between sleep and wakefulness where dreams lived and reality stood on the fringes. And wow. For the first time in a long while, he was full. Completely satisfied. Without the sharp edge of hunger that always gnawed on him from the inside out.
Rubbing the grit from his eyes, he cracked his lids, giving his vision another try. Steel glinted overhead, refracted arcs of light spilling like colorless rainbows across the ceiling. Rikar frowned. What the fuck? A sleepy murmur sounded as a soft body snuggled against him and…
Angela.
Sucking in a quick breath, he glanced down and…oh, yeah. There she was, fast asleep, her back to his chest, her behind nestled against his groin. Memory flooded him, providing the details.
With a curse, Rikar laid his head back down. He was an idiot. One who’d screwed the pooch and wound up in the middle of clusterfuck territory. God help him. He shouldn’t be here with her. Should be in his own bed, holding her close while she slept not…here. The instant she touched him, he should’ve picked her up and carried her to his room. What he’d done instead was lose his mind and back her into one of the prison cells. Now they shared real estate. Were horizontal without the possibility of getting vertical anytime soon.
On a fucking prison cot.
Christ. Had he said idiot? Well, he’d meant asshole.
Even knowing he should do right by her—scoop her up and carry her out of the cellblock—Rikar couldn’t move. He wanted to stay right where he was, curled around his female, listening to her deep, even breaths, enjoying the full-body contact. It didn’t matter that they were both still dressed. Being with her wasn’t about sex. At least not this time around. Eventually, it would be, and he’d claim her. But today all he wanted to do was hold her. Protect her. Win her trust by showing her that he could be patient. That being close to her would be enough until she was ready to take things further.
He brushed a kiss to her temple instead, then turned north, burying his nose in the soft strands of her hair. Hmm, she smelled like evergreens and ice…and him. Oh, yeah. His scent was all over her, and he loved it. So did the territorial bastard deep inside him. Now any male that came near her would know she belonged to him.
Or more accurately, that he belonged to her.
His gaze roaming, he studied the contours of her face. The adorable up-turned tip of her nose. The high cheekbones above the gentle curve of her oft-times obstinate chin. The ripe fullness of her mouth. God, his female was beautiful—so lush she took his breath away.
Raising his hand, he followed the curve of her eyebrow with his fingertip, marveling at the softness. She sighed as he caressed her, eyes still closed, body relaxed, not awake but not quite asleep either.
Post-feeding was like that for a female…bone-melting peaceful in the aftermath of intense pleasure. Well, if done right, anyway.
His mouth curved. Yeah, the location sucked, but at least he’d done right by her while he fed. Thank fuck. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. His hunger had been terrible. Voracious. But he’d managed to temper it, taking only as much as she could afford to give. She’d tasted just like he remembered, like ice and snow. As decadent as chilled vodka straight out of the freezer.
Dipping his head, he kissed the corner of her mouth, the touch soft, a barely-there caress. He wanted to thank her for what she’d given him. She’d fed him so well…filled him so full his body hummed and his mind pulsed with renewed energy. And magic. The power lit him up from the inside out, rushing in his veins, making his fingertips tingle.
God, had he ever felt this good before?
Nah. Not even close.
Rikar kissed her again, nuzzled her before he backed off and shook his head. He couldn’t help but be amazed by her. But mostly, he was surprised at himself. His attitude was such an about-face. A total 180-degree turn from the independent SOB he’d been less than a month ago. Angela, though, was special. A rare female who gave without thought to herself. But then, that was his job now. To think of her, provide for her, give her all she needed to thrive at Black Diamond.
All excellent intentions. With a huge freaking caveat that hinged on one thing. Would she accept him as her male? Let him care and provide for her?
Rikar hoped so, but convincing her would take some work. He knew that. Wasn’t naive enough to believe she’d give up her life—throw away all she’d worked so hard to achieve in the human world to become part of his. One feeding, no matter how willing she’d been, did not a relationship make. He wanted one with her, though. A long-term arrangement that started now and ended at forever.
Rikar snorted. It was official. He’d lost the battle and his heart to a hazel-eyed beauty with attitude. Fallen prey to Angela just as his best friend had with Myst. He shook his head. What a pair they made. Jacked up over a couple of females. Had someone told him such a thing was possible a month ago, he would’ve punched the dummy first and asked questions later.
Angela’s eyelashes flickered. She shifted a little, bumping his chest with her shoulder. “What are you laughing at?”
The question came out slow, words slurred. Rikar’s lips twitched as he caressed her cheek. “Not you.”
“Smart.”
“I’m all about self-preservation.”
“I’ll bet.”
Her mouth tipped up at the corners, blooming into a slow, sassy smile. A second later, he got a load of sleepy hazel eyes. Green, gold, even a little dark gray swam in the depths, a complicated combination, just like his female. Holding her gaze, unable to resist, he dipped his head, coming in slow, giving her lots of time to turn away. When she didn’t, Rikar brushed his lips against hers: a tender touch, gentle desire in a soft kiss.
“Good morning, angel,” he murmured, backing off a bit. He hovered a breath away, gauging her reaction. Not wanting to frighten her.
Angela sighed, and he got bolder, flicking the corner of her mouth with his tongue. He pulled back again. She tipped her chin up, prolonging the contact, lips parting as though she wanted more. He gave it to her, but kept it light, one gentle stroke at a time. Careful not to crowd her, he slipped inside her mouth, introducing her to his taste, getting a contact high from hers.
Fuck, she was unbelievably good. So soft and sweet, and he was a bastard for taking advantage. She was still so relaxed—deep in post-feeding euphoria. It wasn’t fair to kiss her when she wasn’t firing on all cylinders, but he couldn’t make himself stop. She tasted so damned good, and he was addicted. But more than anything, the kiss was for her. He needed to show her that the instant she said no, he’d back off and give her space.
All right. So it would kill him if she did.
No wasn’t a word he liked to hear. At least not very often. And especially not now when he finally had Angela in his arms and wanted to be deep inside her. Wanted it so badly his heart pounded and his balls ached. But that didn’t mean he would cross the line. He wasn’t like the rogue who’d hurt her. Rikar needed her to know that he could touch her without the heat of expectation. That he would wait until she was ready.
That the lesson came with added benefits—namely tangling his tongue with hers, tasting her deep while her hands drifted through his hair? Oh, man, he loved her heat, the softness of her mouth, her taste, and God, the sounds she made. Each sigh, every soft moan, cranked him tighter until the bastard behind his button fly begged for release.
Time to stop.
With a groan, Rikar nipped her bottom lip, then retreated. She murmured in protest. Unable to stop himself, he returned, kissed her gently, but in the end pulled away again. He wanted to continue. Could go on kissing her forever, but that would defeat the purpose. And the lesson. He was only a male, after all. With faults and weaknesses. And a libido that was now in overdrive. Much more of her taste and…fuck him, he’d be trying to undress her.
So instead of unzipping her hoodie like he was dying to do, he distracted himself by asking, “You okay, love?”
“Um-hmm.” Her eyelashes flickered again. On a soft exhale, she rubbed her eyes, and Rikar felt her mind sharpen. “I was scared at first, but then…I wasn’t.”
He bit down on a grin. Okay, maybe “sharpen” wasn’t quite the right word. She was still fuzzy around the edges, coming back a little at a time. “Good.”
“You didn’t hurt me.”
She sounded surprised. Rikar didn’t blame her. Would’ve been just as surprised had he been brutalized by—
Christ. No way.
His enemy didn’t belong anywhere near her. Or this bed. Not in thought. Nor in deed. Lothair would get what was coming to him—his fucking head ripped off. Here and now was for Angela. For him. For them and the new start he wanted to make.
Leaning in, he nestled his cheek against hers. “The last thing I want to do, angel, is hurt you.”
“I know,” she whispered, breaking down the doors to his heart one thump at a time.
Her trust floored him. Her courage, too. And as he came unhinged, Rikar hugged her close, his throat so tight he could hardly breathe, never mind talk. He managed to anyway and rasped, “You are the most extraordinary female I’ve ever met.”
“Met a lot of us, have you?” She rubbed her cheek against his, the movement playful. “What’s the tally?”
Rikar blinked. Was she actually asking him how many females he’d been with? Man, he hoped not, ’cause…hell. He’d lost count years ago.
Propping himself on his elbow, he pulled back, needing to see her face. A teasing glint in her eyes, she grinned at
him. But he saw it for what it was…a deflection. She wanted to change the subject. To move out of uncomfortable territory—his feelings for her—and onto safer ground. He held her gaze, trying to decide whether to let her sidestep him. In the end, he gave in and retreated. Pushing her too far, too fast wouldn’t do him any favors. He’d take what he could get. And with her still snuggled against him, the getting was pretty damn good.
He raised a brow and teased her back. “Should I be asking you the same question?”
Angela snorted. “I’m not the one with the number crisis.”
Number crisis. Freaking female. She knew exactly where to hit him. Right below the belt.
Faking an offended look, he sputtered, making a show of it for her. She laughed, and his heart lightened at the sound. He wanted to hear more of it, and so often her smile became the status quo when he was around. He shook his head, acting his ass off, praying she laughed again. She didn’t disappoint. Hiding her grin behind her hand, her eyes sparkled as she gazed up at him. He gave her a stern look. More laughter. Shit, he deserved one of those shiny Oscars.
“All right, angel,” he murmured, tapping the end of her nose. “You’ve had your fun, so…you gonna tell me now?”
“What’s that?”
“Why you came down here? With fucking cookies, no less and—”
“Shortbread…there’s a difference, you know.”
“—what you found out from the asshole down the hall,” he said, ignoring her interruption.
“So, what…now you’re interested in my intel?”
“Was always interested, love.”
“Tit for tat then. You go first. Tell me what you found out tonight.”
Bingo. His homicide detective was back on board. Watch out, world.
“Not much to tell.” Rikar frowned, pissed off at his lack of progress tonight. Even after bribing Mac and getting the rogue out of the water, he knew dick-all about the new Razorback lair. “The Razorback we cornered didn’t know shit. He didn’t tell us anything we don’t already know.”