Fury of Ice (30 page)

Shifting backward on the twin mattress, he nudged her onto her back. Her brow puckered, and she muttered, not liking the change in position. He murmured to her, using his voice to soothe her. With a sleepy hum, she turned toward him, giving him her profile as she nestled her face into the curve of his biceps. Unable to help himself, he traced her bottom lip, wanting to taste her so badly his mouth watered.

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.”

“For instance?”

“Ivar’s building a new lair, but most of his warriors don’t know where it is.”

“Is that normal?” she asked. “I thought you guys lived in packs.”

“We do.” Caressing her shoulder, he ran his hand down the back of her arm. When she stayed relaxed, Rikar pushed it a little further, trailing his hand lower, watching her reaction. Prepared to back away if she shied. She didn’t, and his heart picked up a beat as his hand settled on the curve of her hip. “But the Razorback ranks outnumber us at least ten to one. If not more. So it makes sense to have more than one lair.”

“So he’s…what? Keeping the new one for his inner circle?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he said, flexing his fingers on her hip, wanting to slide around front and lay his hand flat on her belly. “Ivar’s smart. A real psycho, but smart. If he keeps his base of operations a secret…only allows those closest to him to know where it is, none of the bastards we interrogate will out him.”

“So, those girls. The ones imprisoned—”

“I’m sorry. Unless we nail Lo—”

“The rat-bastard, you mean.”

“Right,” he murmured, seeing the hurt in her eyes.

She tried so hard to hide it behind an
I’m tough…don’t worry about me
attitude. But Rikar saw the act for what it was and hated every second of her pain. Despised knowing he couldn’t take the memory away. Mind-scrubbing her wasn’t the answer. He’d do more harm than good. Sure, he could take the memory but not the emotion behind it…or the context that made what she felt make sense. To heal she needed to remember why she was hurting. It sucked, but there it was. Healing required hard work. And hard work functioned best within a clear set of parameters.

Rikar cleared his throat. “So, unless we take down Ivar’s XO or another close to him, we won’t locate his new lair.”

“Crap.”

No kidding. He didn’t like it any better than she did. He never liked dead ends. Or outcomes that rested on big fat “ifs.”

Lost in thought, Angela chewed on her lower lip. Rikar stared at her straight white teeth and swallowed. When that didn’t work, he shifted, suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin. Christ, the stuff felt five sizes too small, and man, forget her bottom lip. He wanted to be the one getting nibbled on.

“Your turn.”

She blinked and refocused on him. “Oh, right. According to Forge, the rat-bastard likes coeds and games. So forget downtown. If we wanna find him, we need to look on campus and all the bars close to it.”

“Student pubs and hangouts.”

“Exactly.”

Made sense. He’d never seen Lothair in any of the downtown clubs the Razorback warriors always favored. Where he and his brothers always found them. Well, all right. They were off and running.

With Forge’s intel.

Fucking male. What the hell was Forge up to? He didn’t act like any rogue Rikar had ever met. Or rather, had the pleasure to kill. Something was wonky. Way off with the guy. It was worth investigating. But not with Angela hanging around.

He needed to stash her somewhere while he teed up the cellblock’s surveillance video. Thank God for Gage and his foresight. He’d installed the system just before he’d taken off for Prague and the Archguard’s festival. Now Rikar would be able to see and hear exactly what Forge had said to Angela. Word for word. Read between the lines by watching the male’s expression. Each nuance. Each hesitation. All the little stuff that spoke volumes.

But first? A distraction for his female.

And Rikar had the perfect one. Mac. No way would she be able to resist checking in on her partner. The male might be neck-deep in a salt bath, but she’d want to sit with him. Be there when Mac woke up. Which meant Rikar would know exactly where she was…at all times.

Simple. Perfect. Brilliant. Just the way he liked things.

Leaning in, he took a chance and kissed her again. She hummed softly, parting her lips, inviting him in. With a groan, Rikar accepted, sliding his hand into her hair as he got busy blissing her out. And pleasing himself. Gentle desire slid into need, becoming greedy as she turned toward him. Cupping his nape, she played with his hair, tangled her legs with his, putting them breast to chest.