Angel (A Companion Book to Monster) (Impossible #1.5) (15 page)

I couldn’t stop staring at her as we got on the ride.  The way that her dress was pushed halfway up her thigh when she mounted one of the carousel horses made my mouth water.  After long days and nights of wondering, fantasizing, I now knew what that dress concealed.  I couldn’t wait to become even more intimately familiar with her body in the future.  Our first fuck had been almost frenzied as my long-denied lust drove me to claim her.  But now I had all the time I needed to thoroughly learn every inch of her.

“Ready?”  I asked her, the excitement in my voice having nothing to do with the fact that the ride was about to start.

“Yep,” she said happily, her legs swinging back and forth as though her body couldn’t contain her newfound joy.

The world spun slowly as the carousel began to move.  I allowed it to blur around me, my vision focusing on her, the only solid thing in my world.  She wasn’t looking back at me, but I didn’t mind.  Seeing her pure happiness gave me hope that she would come to care for me as deeply as I did for her.

She had been in my life for only a short time, but she had changed everything.  Since my mother had died, I had just been
existing.  The easy companionship that I shared with Bradley and the flashes of pleasure that I got from fucking had sustained me.  But now I was coming back to life.  Hell, I had never even been alive before her.

My father had used pain and terror to shape me into what I was.  But
what
I was wasn’t
who
I was, and Claudia was helping me to see that.

Something flashed in her eyes, and she shot me a worried, almost anguished look.  Just as I reached out to comfort her, sh
e swung down off of her horse and leapt from the ride.  My heart squeezed as I saw her stumble, worried that she had hurt herself.

But concern was driven away by panic when she started to run.

“Claudia!”  I shouted her name as I flung myself from the ride.  Instinct drove me to close the distance between us, not out of fear that she would reveal me as her kidnapper, but out of fear of losing her.

“Claudia!”  I could feel dozens of eyes on me as I tore after her.  We were making a scene.  This wasn’t good.  Not for either of us.  If she revealed my crimes against her, she was as good as dead.  And I wouldn’t be able to protect her from my enemies if I was locked up in jail.

It was time to come clean.  I was going to have to tell her everything.  Until she understood that I was doing what was best for her, she would fight what she felt for me.

But what I had to tell her about myself might make her recoil
in horror.  How could someone so good ever be content to lie in the arms of a monster?

I had closed the distance between us.  My grip was almost cruel as my hand closed around her upper arm, putting an end to her flight.

“Claudia!”  I half-shouted her name, my anger claiming me.  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

She spun to face me, and the depths of the despair in her shining eyes made my heart ache. 
“Getting away from you!”  She shrieked.

My fingers tightened around her.  “I can’t let you leave me, Claudia,” I said harshly, knowing that the truth in those words had nothing to do with her safety from my fellow mobsters.  “You know that.  Stop fighting me.”  It was an order.

She jerked against me, seething.  The challenge in her eyes told me that she was intent on defying me.

“Never,” she
hissed, the word a fierce promise.  “I will never stop fighting you, Sean.  I will never stop trying to get away from you.”

Her defiance goaded the predator in me, and my first instinct was to break her of her rebelliousness, to take her in hand and force her to obey when I ordered her to remain meekly by my side.  But the sight of her desperate tears kept that insane part of me at bay.

“If you care about me at all…”  She heaved in a ragged breath, fighting back sobs.  “If you feel anything like what I…”  She trailed off, and I burned for her to finish that statement.  It was the first time that she had confessed to having feelings for me.

“Please,” she begged.  “I need my life back.  I need
myself
back.  I don’t know who I am when I’m with you.  I don’t
like
who I am when I’m with you.”

Her words tore at me more cruelly than any knife ever could.  I had thought that she was embracing her new life, learning that the happiness she had denied herself for so long was within reach.

But that was just a sick, twisted lie that I had told myself in order to justify my selfishness.  Of course being trapped with me was hell for her.  It didn’t matter that I could make her laugh or that I could set her body on fire.  It didn’t even matter that we were both broken.  Recognizing that someone is just as fucked up as you are isn’t reason enough to spend your life with them.

She might have been unhappy before she met me, but she clearly found that cold isolation preferable to being my possession.  I couldn’t bear to see the hatred that would grow in her eyes with every passing day that I kept her.

My hand dropped from her arm, releasing her.

“Go.”  I forced the word out.

Her eyes widened in shock, and her mouth fell open slightly.  The sight of her parted lips tormented me, reminding me of just how good they felt against my own.  I longed to tangle my fingers in her hair and plunder her mouth, to feel those lips open for me once again as she offered herself to me.

I forced away the fantasy before I was driven to act it out.  My fists clenched at my sides with the effort of holding myself back.

“Go.”  The word was a harsh demand this time.  “Before I change my mind.”

For once, her obedience gave me no pleasure.  She turned sharply and walked away from me without a backward glance.

All of my muscles coiled with the effort of resisting the nearly all-consuming impulse to chase her down and trap her in my arms.  I was going to have to endure the agony of resisting the urge to hold her every day.  I would watch her, check in on her to ensure her safety.  Even though she had rejected me, I would never let anyone hurt her.

But being able to see her and not being allowed to touch her was going to be torture.  Even though I might walk free, I was always going to be chained to her.

I had wanted so desperately for her to be my salvation, but she had ruined me.

The End

Get Claudia’s side of the story in
Impossible: The Original Trilogy

Want more of the
Impossible
series?  The first book in the new spin-off series is now available!  Check out this excerpt from
Savior
(An
Impossible
Novel, #1)

*Please note that this excerpt will contain spoilers for
Impossible: The Original Trilogy (Monster, Traitor, and Avenger)*

Prologue
Clayton

The whisky’s burn was soothing as it slid down my throat, a harsh bite that morphed into a warm wave, flowing through me until the heat pooled in my stomach.  I closed my eyes as I savored the smoky aftertaste that lingered in my mouth.  Damn.  I’d forgotten just how good a decent whisky could be.  I was not without addictions – strong predilections for coffee and runner’s high were definitely among my vices – but the buzz of alcohol wasn’t something that I often sought.  But today I sure could use a drink.

Claudia Ellers had called me this afternoon to give me the good news: Sean Reynolds had just asked her to marry him.  And of course she had said yes.  And I was going to be her best man.  I had never been able to deny her anything, so when she asked I answered “yes” in a falsely bright voice.  I grimaced and took another draw of the amber liquid.

I was happy for them.  Really I was.  A blind man could see that they were perfect for one another.  And although I had my reservations about Sean’s past, it was obvious that he loved her more fiercely than anything else in the world.

The only problem was that I was in love with her too.

I had fallen for her while she was gathering information on Sean and the Westies for the FBI, a task that I had assigned her.  She had been so brave and so beautiful and so damaged.  Everything in me screamed at me to help her, to take care of her.  And then she had looked at me with those striking grey eyes, and I could see a growing trust there that tugged at my heartstrings.

But I had never had a shot in hell.  Claudia’s heart had already belonged to Sean on the day that I met her, even if she didn’t realize it herself at the time.  I had been promptly friendzoned.

Now I considered Claudia one of my closest friends, and I had grown to respect Sean as well.  But I couldn’t shake my feelings for her.  Hell, I hadn’t felt this strongly about any woman since Jen, and I had dated her in my junior year of college.

I knocked back the rest of the glass at the thought of Jen.  That was nine years ago.  Nine years and what had happened with Jen still haunted me.  I hadn’t been with anyone seriously since then.  But I had my job, my mission.  My work with the FBI was important.  More important than my love life.

Unfortunately, things were going to shit at work.  While we were swiftly rounding up what was left of the Westies, we still weren’t ready to move in on the Latin Kings.  And now they were swarming into the territories that the Westies had stolen from them with a vengeance.  They had taken back all of Brooklyn and were even moving into Manhattan, taking over Hell’s Kitchen, which had formerly been the heart of the Westies’ territory.  Javier Santiago, our man on the inside, was doing all that he could to gather the information that we needed to convict the ringleaders of the gang, but the process was immensely more complicated than it had been with the Westies.  The Latin Kings were divided into “tribes,” and they could be just as contentious with one another as they were with rival gangs.  To make matters impossibly worse, each of the tribes was now heavily recruiting in order to control their increased territory, and they were becoming bolder in their crimes as the violence escalated beyond what the NYPD’s and FBI’s resources could handle.  It seemed that one of our greatest victories – bringing about the
downfall of the notorious Westies – had also been one of our biggest blunders.  No one had realized the shitstorm we were about to kick up.

I grimaced again and flagged down the bartender for a fresh drink.

“I’ll have what he’s having.”

There was a hint of laughter in the woman’s melodic voice.  I turned on my barstool to find myself looking at one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen.  Her long, straight platinum-blonde hair fell around her delicately boned face like a silvery wave, and her pale skin seemed to shine with some inner glow.  Her eyes were striking: a light, crystalline green ringed with indigo.  Those eyes were looking at me expectantly.

“What?”

I cursed myself for an idiot as soon as the word left my mouth.  Could I be any less composed?  I clenched my jaw to keep my mouth from hanging open in awe.

Her hand reached out to touch my glass, and her fingers lightly brushed against mine as she did so.  Even the slight contact sent a jolt running up my arm that then went thrumming deeper through my body.

“What’s your drink?”  She
asked, her voice a bit throatier than it had been when she had first spoken.

“Oh.  Um…”

Shit, Vaughn, string two goddamn words together!

“
Glenfiddich, neat.”

Small lines appeared in her flawless skin as her brow furrowed slightly.  “What’s that?”

I could understand her confusion.  This wasn’t the kind of bar where you ordered a nice scotch.  It was where you came to pound cheap liquor so that you got drunk fast.  It was a dive, but I had been in the neighborhood working a case.  Some poor kid had just been recruited by the Kings, and I had been keeping an eye on him while we decided what to do.  I had chosen to stay in the area for a drink because, given the bar’s location, it wasn’t likely that I would run into anyone that I knew there.  I was in a brooding mood, and I hadn’t wanted to inflict that on anyone.  Well, I had been.  All of my dark thoughts – as well as most of my sense – had been knocked out of me as soon as this gorgeous woman had spoken to me. 

“Scotch whisky,” I explained.

She gave me a small, slightly mocking smile, showing her perfect white teeth.  There was a playful light in her remarkable eyes, and I found myself entranced.

“Never mind then, Mr.
Fancypants,” she said, releasing me from the magnetic hold of her eyes in order to address the bartender.  “We’ll have two shots of tequila, please.”  She glanced over at me, looking me up and down.  I had the feeling that I was being measured up, and I wasn’t at all sure if I was going to meet whatever standard this woman had set.  Her gaze fell on my suit before flicking back up to my eyes.  “Is Cuervo good enough for you, Fancypants?”  She asked.

I hated tequila, but I nodded.  She smiled at me broadly, and I could feel my own expression widening into a grin.

Chapter 1
Rose

It was a simple fact of my life that I didn’t have the time or the emotional energy for a relationship.  But I could make some time for the blonde
hottie sitting alone at the bar.  I mentally checked my calendar.  Yep, I definitely had one night to give this prime piece of man candy.  In fact, he was just the fix I needed.  A few shots of tequila and several long hours of this man inside me would provide the escape that I craved.  My eyes roved over him for the hundredth time, and I wondered if he was kinky.  A slightly predatory smile spread across my face.  If he wasn’t now, he would be by morning.  Based on his physical appearance, it wouldn’t be too difficult to “convert” him.  It wouldn’t be my first time.

His well-fitted black suit – and the obviously strong body that it concealed – radiated a sense of authority.  His strong, clean-shaven jaw and carefully styled dark blonde hair told me that he was a meticulous person, carefully controlled.  He had all of the hallmarks of a man who liked power.  And I definitely liked a man who wanted to be in control. 

But it was the intrigued spark in his electric blue eyes that captivated me most.  When we touched, a fire stirred in their cerulean depths that spoke of desire, a sexual hunger.  It reflected my own voracious needs.  They had driven me here tonight, and they had most definitely been further stoked by this man.

He wasn’t the type of guy that I usually found in Big Jim’s Tavern, my go-to neighborhood dive bar.  I had come here looking for a tattooed, brawling bad boy. 
Someone who took what he wanted and then got the hell out of dodge after he got it.  The last thing I wanted was a guy who would hang around in the morning.

I couldn’t get a read on this stranger in that regard.  The
Fancypants types tended to at least pretend to be gentlemen.  They would ask for your number and claim that they would call you.  Sometimes, they even asked you on a date.  Of course, the number of times that they followed up on the offer were few.  But occasionally…  Occasionally I had made the mistake of taking home a Stage 5 Clinger.  Getting rid of one of them was messy.  And it often involved some cruel words before it was over.

I
definitely
didn’t want that.  I already knew that I was a cheap slut.  My mom had told me often enough that I didn’t need any reminding.

Better to fuck my way into sweet oblivion than find happiness in the sting of a needle,
I reassured myself.  Sure, sometimes I did a little coke or E to loosen up at a party, but I was horrified at the idea of doing anything harder.  I had seen what had happened to Greg.  No way did I want to end up like my kid brother.

The bartender clunked the shots down on the hardwood, and I shook off the dark thoughts.  I was here to forget about my problems, not dwell on them.  I flashed a smile at the
hottie who would be my drug for the evening.

“So, Mr.
Fancypants,” I said with a mocking smile, intentionally trying to get a rise out of him.  “Do you have a first name?”

I was hoping to see a flash of anger in those remarkable eyes, some indication that I had provoked him.  But he just smiled broadly and laughed.  The sound was melting chocolate, dripping warmth onto my bare skin before being licked away by a hot, demanding tongue.

“Clayton,” he responded easily.  “And you seem to be misinformed.  My surname isn’t Fa-”

I quickly pressed two fingers to his lips, silencing him.  I didn’t want to know who he was.  I didn’t want him to know who I was.  Hell, I didn’t even plan on giving him my real first name.  It was better that way, really. 
For both of us.

“‘Clayton’ will do for now.  I’m Mary.”  The false name rolled easily off the tip of my tongue.

Clayton smiled.  “It’s nice to meet you, Mary.”  As he spoke, his soft lips moved against my fingertips.  I wondered what those lips would feel like caressing other areas of my flesh, a thought that elicited a sudden flash of dissatisfaction at the sound of my fake name on his tongue.

Rose,
I wanted to say. 
Call me Rose.

But it was too late to correct him.  I would seem like a crazy person if I admitted that I had lied about my name.  So I just returned his smile and reluctantly drew my fingers away from his mouth.  Clayton started to lift the shot of tequila to those full lips, and I found myself licking my own unconsciously.  His looked delicious, and I couldn’t wait to feel them against mine.

I lightly put my hand on his wrist, stopping him short.  I had to suppress the urge to shiver that the contact awoke within me.  The intensity of it was almost unsettling.  And “almost unsettling” was just what I needed; I wanted to be pushed to the edge, to that elusive place where passion was so intense that I would only barely be able to piece my shattered self back together in the aftermath.  In my personal experience, that perfection had yet to be fully realized, but it was a hell of a lot of fun trying.

Keeping myself focused on the game, I gave him a playful but slightly censorious smile.

“You don’t drink tequila often, do you?”  I asked.  “Here, let me show you how to do it properly.”

I released him, raising my hand to my own mouth before I slowly licked the sensitive flesh between my thumb and forefinger.  My eyes locked with his I did so, and I was pleased to see him shift slightly on the barstool, clearly affected by me.  It seemed I would be initiating the seduction here.  I could only hope that he would turn the tables on me soon.  It would be a shame if he turned out to be completely
vanilla.  He was hot enough that I might be able to make an exception for him, but I wasn’t really into that.

I sprinkled some white granules of salt over the dampness on my hand.  Then I licked it off, enjoying seeing Clayton’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard.  I bit into the slice of lime, pursing my lips at the sour juice that filled my mouth.  I took my shot quickly to wash it down, the flavors mingling and becoming something rich and delicious as it slid down my open throat.  It burned a little, and I grimaced for a moment before turning my smile back on Clayton.  He raised an eyebrow at me.

“Impressive,” he said simply.

“I know,” I said with a confident shrug. 
“Your turn.”

To my surprise, he reached out and grasped my hand firmly, drawing it towards him and raising it to his lips.

My breathing hitched.  “What are you doing?”  I asked, confused.

“Doing it properly.”
  He shot me a wicked grin that made my stomach do a little flip just before his tongue snaked out to stroke against my skin.  Heat instantly flared between my legs, and to my surprise, I blushed.  I never blushed.

His smile was roguish and knowing.  Oh, he was definitely turning the tables.  I thrilled at the thought.

His thumb traced lightly over the back of my hand as he sprinkled the salt over it.  This time I did shudder when he licked it off.  I blushed more deeply, embarrassed by my conspicuous reaction.  I had wanted him to take control, but this was moving far too quickly.  I didn’t like losing the upper hand outside the bedroom.

He didn’t release my hand as he bit into the lime and took the shot back like a pro.  Oh, he was a quick learner.  The realization was both thrilling and discomfiting.

“Another?”  He asked, that wicked smile still in place as he maintained his grip on me.

“Sure,” I agreed breathlessly.  I definitely wanted more of this.

We repeated the process again, and I could feel wetness pooling between my legs as I became more aroused by his touch.  I needed to get a little of my own back, regain some modicum of control over our interactions.  No one had ever elicited such sudden, visceral reactions from me, not even during my kinkiest encounters.  Images of Clayton dominating my body, holding me down as he fucked me roughly, ran across my mind.

We would get to that in a little while. 
But not yet.

“So,” I said lightly, trying to cut into the intense sexual tension between us.  “What were you sulking about before I came over here?”

He looked affronted, but the playful gleam in his eye let me know that he wasn’t really offended.

“I wasn’t
sulking,
” he insisted.

“Okay, you were brooding then,” I shrugged. 
“Women trouble?”  I sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case.  He hadn’t been acting like he was attached, but it wouldn’t be the first time some cheating asshole had made his way into my bed without me realizing it.

He surprised me by chuckling.  Apparently it was impossible to get under his skin.

“I appreciate the more manly term, but not your perceptiveness,” he said.  “I came here to brood in peace.  Work is a bitch right now.”  He grinned, eyeing me in a way that made me flush pleasurably.  “But things are suddenly looking up.”  He cocked his head at me.  “And what are you doing here, taking shots with a stranger?  Man trouble?”

His tone was casual, but the spark of true curiosity in his eyes let me know that he hoped I was unattached too.

“In a way,” I admitted.  “Brother problems.”  My tone was casual as well, but I could feel that my smile was a bit tight.  Why had I admitted that?  I didn’t want anyone to know about my brother.  He was my dark secret, the thing that I was trying to escape from.  When I had come home from work earlier, he had been high again, completely strung out.  Over the past several months, I had tried to get him clean, but seeing him go through the agony of withdrawal pained me almost as much as seeing him fucked up out of his mind.  It was a vicious cycle that I couldn’t stop, so I did the only thing that I could for him: I took care of him.  As much as I was able to.  But seeing him like that…  Nothing made me feel shittier.  It was hard to leave him alone, but tonight I hadn’t been able to take it anymore.  I had hidden his stash so that he wouldn’t overdose in my absence, and then I had gotten the hell out.

So now I was here, seeking my own fix.  I struggled to make my smile more genuine as I steered us away from the subject.

“Things
do
seem to be looking up now, though,” I agreed.  But man, could I use another drink.  Alcohol would dull my wayward thoughts, keep me focused on the here and now.  I waved down the bartender and ordered four more shots.

Clayton’s eyebrows rose.  “That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

I forced a sly smile.  “Nope,” I said definitively.  “It’s just enough.”

He frowned slightly. 
“One more each.  We’re not negotiating on this.”

My lips parted slightly.  The utter gall of him!  “You’re rather bossy.”  I had intended for my voice to be hard, but instead it came out low and breathy.  I could definitely deal with bossy.  I craved it.

His smile was a touch twisted.  “Doesn’t seem like you mind,” he said teasingly.

I shot him my best smoldering look.  “Not one bit.”

His remarkable eyes glinted, clearly intrigued.  I still wasn’t sure if he was experienced in this area, but it didn’t seem that that would be a problem.  My clit pulsed in anticipation.  We had exchanged enough conversation.  It was nice enough talking to him.  Perhaps too nice.  It was time for him to shut up and fuck me already before I became even more dangerously intrigued by him.

His eyes widened slightly as my hand closed around the back of his neck, boldly holding him in place as I pulled myself up into him quickly.  His lips were frozen
under mine for the space of a moment, but he soon responded.  I felt a strange, delicious lightness fill me like a rush of blood to the head as his lips caressed mine.  He was gentle at first, but I didn’t want that.  I sucked his full lower lip into my mouth and traced the line of it with my tongue before biting down sharply.  To my satisfaction, he didn’t pull away in shock but instead reacted aggressively, driving his tongue into my mouth roughly and exploring me thoroughly.  I had to suppress the moan of pleasure that wanted to escape me.  His arm closed around my waist, pulling me off of my barstool until my body was pressed up against his, my pelvis wedged between his legs.  I pressed my hands against his chest to steady myself after the sudden movement, but his other arm was around my upper back, holding me to him so that I couldn’t put any distance between us.  The feeling of him taking my mouth was heady, even more intoxicating than the tequila. 

Then I felt something hard against my hip, and I gasped into his mouth as I realized that he wanted me.  It seemed I wasn’t the only one who was strongly affected here.  My panties were already soaked with my arousal; I was as wet and ready for him as I usually was after a long period of foreplay. 
And from nothing more than his kiss.  This was definitely going to be a great night.

Clayton only pulled away from me when the bartender cleared his throat loudly, interrupting us.  The stocky man was looking at us disapprovingly, his brows drawn as he hitched his thumb in the direction of the door.

“How about you two lovebirds go find someplace else to do it?  This is a bar, not a brothel.”

It’s dirty enough to be one,
I thought acidly, but I bit my tongue.  I didn’t want to look like a bitch.  Delivering cutting retorts was a rather unfortunate specialty of mine.  Choosing not to directly acknowledge the man, I kept my attention on Clayton.

“The man does have a point,” I said throatily.  “How about we go back to your place?”