Grimm Tidings: Grimm's Circle, Book 6 (10 page)

She eased closer, pressed her lips to his cheek.

This time, his skin didn’t feel so chilled. But when he turned his face toward hers, she pulled away. “Good-bye, Gavin. Thanks for all the good years.”

In the next second, he was gone.

In the second after that one, she was in the living room of the house she shared with Jacob, gasping for breath.

She managed to blink away the tears just in time to see his back before he disappeared through the doorway.

Dreams have power…

Those words continued to tickle the back of her mind, getting more and more insistent. Celine felt like there was something she needed to acknowledge—and she
knew
she’d have to, and soon. But just then, as she dealt with the lingering grief about Gavin, she wasn't up to another sucker punch just yet.

“Good-bye, Gavin,” she murmured, sitting on the couch. In the back of her mind, that voice continued to whisper.

…dreams are where all our hidden fears, our hidden desires, the things we never dare speak of come to light.

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I said good-bye, right? Can’t I worry about reality and everything else later?”

If there was one thing Celine excelled at, it was pushing off reality and everything else. And in that moment, she didn’t feel bad about it at all. She’d handled enough tonight. More than enough.

Chapter Eight

The rattling of the chains was like a sweet music to him.

The heavy bag was reinforced, as were the chains, otherwise the first blow would send it flying across the room.

Still, Jacob thought maybe he might be able to decimate this one.

It might do something to ease the burn in his gut, although he wasn’t counting on it. He’d already been at it for hours—a run earlier, weights, anything and everything to punish himself, keep himself away from the house and away from Celine.

He was too selfish of a bastard to be doing this.

He should be more selfless.

He should be more able to sacrifice.

He should have been able to help her say good-bye without wanting to maim or destroy. Yet as she’d kissed her husband—yes, he’d seen it—he’d wanted to use the bastard’s head for a bowling ball. The threads of the dream had been harder to hold in place when he pulled another person in and he hadn’t been able to keep the distance he’d wanted to keep.

And each second he’d been forced to watch, every second he’d thought of the pain she must be feeling, it had driven him closer and closer to the edge of no return.

He was close to shattering. He could feel the shreds of his control splintering.

Something in the air changed—as the air currents brought her scent to him, Jacob rasped out, “Fuck it all.”

She was coming down here. Perfect. Just bloody perfect.

He needed to call Will, and soon. She was no longer in danger of being lost and there were any number of the Grimm who could teach her how to handle that newly emerging gift. Greta, perhaps. Maybe even Finn—nobody needed to understand control quite the way a pyrokinetic did. It seemed she’d learned from that bastard well enough. He could take over again.

She was watching him, watching and waiting. Shooting her a quick glance, he shifted his attention back to the bag.

“Thank you.”

“No thanks are needed,” he said without stopping his attack on the bag. He’d rather have a partner in front of him, somebody who could and
would
hit back—

And then Celine moved onto the floor and he noticed how she was dressed. Need, hunger, frustrated hurt ripped through him.
She still loves him. You don’t need this pain in your life
, he told himself as she stood there, dressed in loose shorts and a sports bra. Nothing else, unless he counted the gloves she was pulling on. Setting his jaw, he said, “I’m not in the mood for a match, but thank you.”

“You’re always in the mood for a match,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And although I’m not quite as astute as you are, you look like you’re spoiling for a fight.”

“Spoiling for a fight and sparring with a baby Grimm who can barely throw a punch are two different things,” he said coolly. He stopped the bag and turned away. He stripped away the gloves and tossed them to the bench in the corner. He’d head to the colony. Alone. That would do something to ease the burn. He’d come out bloodied and bruised, but he had enough years behind him that he could live through it. He thought.

Behind him, Celine sputtered. “Excuse me, but did you just insinuate I can’t throw a punch?”

“I didn’t insinuate. I said it. You’ve improved. You have a long way to go.”
Now please leave me alone
—

He heard the rush of wind but it wasn’t enough warning. She was fast. He knew this. But he didn’t always remember just
how
fast.

“What the—”

They hurtled to the floor and he took the impact before flipping and rolling them over. “Enough. I’m not in the mood,” he snarled, putting his face into hers and glaring at her.

“Wow. You really are pissed about something,” she said, arching dark brows as she studied him. “I didn’t know you could actually
do
that.”

“Do what?” He shoved upward, away from that lush, tempting body. He had to get away from her before he did something he regretted. Already his body had betrayed him and if Celine had been focused on something other than the fact that he’d insulted her, she would have noticed. It was a blow to his pride that she
hadn’t
noticed. Although she was still mooning over that fool who didn’t deserve her…

“Get pissed.” She drawled. Then her gaze dropped lower. “Worked up.”

The heat punched through him in a blistering, burning wave.

Worked up
—so she had noticed.

“I’m not pissed,” he said, keeping his voice cool. Turning away, he went to grab a towel and wipe the sweat from his brow. He was dying inside, bit by bit, but that wasn’t anything like being pissed. He was frustrated, he was enraged, he was jealous. But that wasn’t the same as being pissed.

The soft whisper of sound behind him let him know Celine was now on her feet as well. He didn’t look up, but she wasn’t letting little things like eye contact dissuade her today.

“Okay. So you’re not pissed.” She came to stand at his side, nearly shoulder to shoulder. “Does that mean you’re not worked up?”

Turning to face her, he advanced on her, one slow step at time. Celine backed up until she came to a stop, with her spine resting against one of the rich, golden wood support beams at her back. Bracing one hand on the beam over her head. “I’m a man, Celine. I still have the same reactions to certain stimuli that any man would have. The fact that I’m a Grimm makes no difference.”

Her golden eyes bored into his, the pupils so large they nearly swallowed the irises. “So you’re just reacting to the fact that I’m female. I’ve been female for the past ten months,” she drawled.

Dipping his head, he whispered softly, “And I’ve wanted to strip you naked and shag you for the past ten months, almost from the second I saw you.”
 

The scent of her skin was a heady rush, one that threatened to drive him insane. It wrapped around him and he knew he’d smell her on his skin, even if he spent the next two hours in the shower.

As he nuzzled her neck, he could hear her breath catch. Against his chest, he felt the rise and fall of her breasts. Only the fabric of the sports bra she wore separated them. He could have it gone in seconds. So easy. It would be so easy. He could cup the warm flesh of her breasts in his hands, kiss and lick those ripe curves just as he’d dreamed of doing. Instead, he pushed away, stepped back.

He wouldn’t touch her while she still had the ghosts of her husband haunting her. Setting his jaw, he stared at her flushed face, met the over-bright glitter of her eyes. The hunger he saw there was almost his undoing.

“You want me,” he said softly. “But I won’t be a substitute for what you
really
want. I won’t lie in bed with a woman while she dreams of another man. While
you
dream of another man. Not while he’s still in your heart.” Then he turned away and left the room.

He had a nest of demons to kill. Maybe he’d find a way to exorcise his own demons while he was at it.

If he didn’t manage to get himself killed tonight, he was going to have Celine reassigned.

He couldn’t do this.

Celine gaped at his back as he walked away.

Her head was a
mess
and it had been ever since she’d woken up. And now…? Now it was so much worse. Her head was a mess and her body was a tangle of need.

Her knees were about ready to give out from under her and hunger, the kind of hunger she hadn’t felt since her mortal life had ended, pulsed through her veins in harsh, brutal waves, swamping her. Strong. Vicious. Demanding. What had happened…? The desire she’d seen glinting in his eyes—it had been…wow. Yeah. That was it. The hunger had been
wow
.

Swallowing, she rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

Had he ever looked at her like that before?

I’ve wanted to strip you naked and shag you for the past ten months, almost from the second I saw you.

Shag her…

Somehow, that sounded so desperately sexy and she’d been about two seconds away from giving him what he wanted. Two seconds away from stripping herself naked.

But a familiar, cool veil had fallen over his eyes and that voracious hunger had disappeared. Just like that. Like it hadn’t existed.

He’d kept it hidden all this time. And with some inborn instinct, she knew it went deeper than just
hunger
.

I won’t be a substitute… I won’t lie in bed with a woman while she dreams of another man.

As if Jacob would allow
room
for that. He wouldn’t be the sort of lover who would
leave
room for thoughts of another. “There’s already not enough room,” she muttered, pressing the heel of her hand to her temple and sighing. She was all aching and tight, like her skin was stretched too small and the only thing that would help was
him
.

How had he come to crowd her mind like this? She’d been angry with him for so long, furious. And the pain was there, crowding out everything else.

Then the pain had begun to fade and with it, bit by bit, that fury….leaving only what was already there. Jacob. Who’d been working his way into her soul, slowly, subtly. For all this time. Now she had him in her blood, boiling through her, spurring that aching need.

Overhead, she heard him as he turned on the shower, heard the spray of the water. The image that came into her mind in the following seconds had her breath catching, had her blood burning even hotter. “Shit,” she whispered, her voice shaking. Smoothing her hands back over her hair, she started to pace.

What should she do? Go up there, strip naked, join him? Shit.

But what if she was right and Jacob felt something
more
…

Shit.

Her head was starting to ache now. This was too damn complicated. All she had in her life was the one lover. Gavin…just Gavin. They’d been high-school sweethearts, then lovers, then they married. She’d never done the dating thing, never had to figure out how to approach a guy.

Especially one who’d pushed her away.

She needed to think.

That was something she’d been avoiding ever since she woke up and she was still trying to avoid it, because there were just things she wasn’t ready to look at yet.

But she did need to think about what this mess with Jacob meant.

I’ve wanted to strip you naked and shag you for the past ten months…

Swallowing, she rubbed the heel of her hand over her chest and decided that was one thing she couldn’t avoid thinking about. She needed to figure out how she felt about it, and what she was going to do about it.

She’d do it better if she did it someplace where she wasn’t able to hear the water pounding down, where she wouldn’t see him when he came out of the bathroom, water beading on those hard, muscled shoulders…

Before she could let those thoughts drift any further, she shoved away from the wall. She’d go running. She’d run, she’d hate every step, and she’d make herself think.

Four miles into the run, the lust eased from her system enough that she could think.

How do I feel about him
?

That was one thing she needed to know before she did
anything
about Jacob.

She felt something. It was more than just desire too. This wasn’t just some vague itch. It was…intense. Powerful. She couldn’t even describe what it was. It was more intense than what she’d felt before. More intense, more powerful—different than what it had been like when she’d fallen in love before.

Then again, I’m different from who I was before.

Jacob had told her that. Weeks ago. She hadn’t wanted to see it then. But it was impossible
not
to see. She was harder. Stronger. In the past few weeks, ever since she’d let that icy shroud gripping her heart fall away.