Kiss of Steel (28 page)

Need
.

Her hips jerked. Blade’s hand flattened on her stomach, forcing her down, but still she writhed. A soft cry tore from her lips as his teeth dug into her. He bit her. A sharp sensation that sent a shiver through her.

“Stay still.” A warning growl.

As soon try to stop the tide. She was so on edge that the merest brush of his lips made her body jerk. Everything seemed too raw, too much. She wanted to tear her clothes from her body, to stop the incessant burning itch of the wool on too-sensitive flesh.

Blade cursed against her skin. Then licked her thigh. The hot swipe of his tongue nearly undid her.

She cried out.

“Honoria.”

Perfectly pronounced. Edged with frustration and something else. Her eyes met his. The raw need she saw shocked her, and an answering echo of it tore through her.

He pressed his hand against her leg, forcing the blood flow to stop. Whipping the belt free, he tossed it aside then pressed a linen pad against her cut and bound it swiftly.

“Where?” he ground out.

She had no need to ask what he was talking about. But not even the raw need flushing through her could force her to give voice to the desire she felt.

Their gazes locked.

Touch
me. Please
.

“Here?” He pressed his palm directly over the hot flush of her mons.

She should have protested the intimacy. Instead she ground her hips up so that her heated flesh pressed against him.

Harder
.

“Like this?” His voice was low and strained as he tugged her skirts up.

Her cotton drawers were drenched. Cool air flushed against her liquid heat as he tugged at the buttons. And then she gasped, sensation streaking through her like stored lightning as his fingers brushed against her naked, throbbing flesh.

“
Damn
you, Honor
.”

Blade’s shirt hung open, his veins and sinews standing out in stark release as he rose over her. His fingers toyed with her, shooting sparks through her womb. Honoria bucked and writhed, feeling the edge of something building within her. A wave. An enormous tidal wave of need, threatening to drown her. She was helpless to resist.

“Please,” she begged. “Faster.”

His fingers stroked over the lush pearl of her clitoris. White-hot sparks shot through her. Her eyes shot open and she found him kneeling over her, his furious gaze locked on her face. The heavy weight of his thigh stretched over hers, and he rested on his shoulder on the bed beside her. His cock ground into her hip.

“Easy,” he groaned. “Let it come easy.”

A fingertip slid inside her. As if asking permission.

Don’t think
. She thrust her hips up. Felt him breach her further. A curious stretching. Her inner muscles clenched around his finger as if questioning this intruder.

He rubbed his wet thumb over her clit. Felt her shudder. A grim smile tore at his mouth. “Trust me.”

Another fingertip, brushing at her entrance. Honoria’s hips arched higher.

“Yes?” he asked.

She tossed her head from side to side, her entire being flushed with need. Another whimpering groan.

“Yes?” he demanded, sliding the tips of those two fingers inside her.

“
Yes
.”

His fingers filled her. Stretching. A throbbing ache. He coated them in her wetness, then dragged them out, tickling the very edges of her entrance before sliding them back to the hilt.

The edge built.

Somehow she turned her face into his shoulder. Shocked herself by sinking her teeth into the heavy muscle that ran from his neck to his shoulder. Blade growled low in his throat, his fingers thrusting faster within her. At another moment she might have cringed to find herself spread like this, her thighs tossed apart in desperate need, her hips moving wantonly. But all she could see was Blade. All she could feel was his touch and the aching build of tension within her.

He wrought delicious torture in her body. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Her eyes shot open, a cry tearing itself from her throat.

“That’s it.” His whisper was dark and triumphant.

She felt his hand cup his cock-stand through his pants, rubbing hard against her thigh. The thought only made her burn hotter. Tighter. The wave loomed over her for one crushing, breathless second.

And then she was screaming, burying her face in his shoulder to hide the sound. Her greedy passage clutched at his fingers, milking them. Sensation suddenly became acute. Too much. Sweet God, it was too much.

“That’s it.” He thrust against her thigh, burying his fingers deep inside her. Something burned—a distant friction—but she didn’t care. It felt too damned good.

Blade cried out, his fingers stilling within her. His breath stirred against her neck and then he bit her, his fingers tearing free of her body to dig into her thigh and drag her close. The sharp pain of his teeth made her eyes spring open.

It was long seconds before he collapsed against her, breathing hard. Her racing heart matched his. In the wake of the aftermath, strange thoughts suddenly started swarming over her. Good God. His fingers. Inside her. Bared to the day, her thighs slick and wet with her own pleasure.

“Don’t think.” The words were a raw sob wrung from his throat. How did he know what was going through her mind?

He tugged her skirts down a bit, fighting with the material, even as he buried his face against her throat. With every second a little of the pleasure faded, her senses coming back to her. What had she done? What had
they
done?

The violence of the outburst shocked her.
I
let
him
touch
me. I let him taste me. And sweet lord, I loved every second of it
. This was not the dry, dispassionate sex she had read about in books. This was a whirlwind of need and desire that swept away everything in its path.

She could feel her pins tumbling free in her hair. Her stocking loose and discarded around her ankle, much like her morals. The crumpled weight of her skirts, baring her legs to the world.

And Blade, a living, breathing weight. Collapsed against her, even now stirring her body to new wants.

Something burned within her. Some vague sense of dissatisfaction.
I
want
more
. A shocking thought. Five minutes it had taken, from respectable ignorance to aching, disheveled wantonness. Blade was far more dangerous than she had ever suspected.

“I think…I think you should let me go.”

He wrenched his head off the pillow. Glowered at her. “Tol’ you not to think.” A flush of color lit his cheeks, and his mouth was swollen.

Don’t look at it
. She jerked her face away. The wetness between her thighs was an uncomfortable reminder of what had happened. She could smell her own musk, flavoring the air.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I ne’er meant to do that.”

He was blaming himself. A little part of her might have been tempted to allow it, but she forced it down and turned her head back to look at him.

“I asked you to,” she said.

His eyes widened.

“But it mustn’t happen again.”

They narrowed. “
No
,” he argued.

“It mustn’t happen,” she insisted firmly. “Or I’ll break our bargain. I can’t…” A shiver went through her. “It’s too much for me.” It made her long for more. Even now her body throbbed restlessly.

How long before she begged him for more? Just the thought of losing herself in that whirlwind of need terrified her. Pleasure so intense she might do anything for it. Throw away all of her morals, beg him to take her. Lose herself in him. Lose her heart.
No
. It was too dangerous. She had too much to worry about. Charlie, Lena, Vickers’s manhunt. Doctor Madison’s dwindling month of relief before he reported Charlie’s illness to the authorities. It didn’t matter how much she wanted to curl into Blade’s arms and wrap them around her. It was only selfish need.
I
just
want
something
for
myself
.

Anger burned suddenly. Damn Lena. Damn Charlie. And most of all, damn her father. Hot on the heels of that emotion came wretched guilt.
I
don’t mean it
.
I
just
want…
What?

Blade waited, the silence dangerous.

“I can’t do this. Please untie me,” she said.

“Honor.”

“Please,” she repeated in a small voice. “I have to get home. My brother wasn’t feeling well this morning. Would you fetch my diaries?”

Frustration danced across his face, but he reached for the manacles. A swift turn of the key and she was free, rubbing at her wrists. Sitting up, she tried to push her skirts down to a more modest length, but her head spun.

“Easy.” Blade caught her against his shoulder. “You’d be best off lyin’ still for a moment. That’s why I prefer the bed.”

“You do this with all of your thralls?” She pressed a hand to her temples as her vision blurred. His body was hard and solid against her. Some part of her longed to rest her cheek on his shoulder and curl into him. Let him shoulder her troubles. She quashed the desire ruthlessly.

“Not all of it. I don’t usually confuse sex with blood thirst.”

“How lucky for me.”

“Mind you, most o’ me thralls don’t react the way you do,” he growled, sliding off the bed with devilish grace. He looked as though he’d quite recovered his equilibrium.

“How long must I wait?” she asked. “I need to get home.”

“I’ll fetch your diaries. Then we’ll see ’ow steady you are on your feet. Will’ll walk you ’ome.”

“Will will love that,” she said sarcastically. Then she saw Blade’s face. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

He shrugged. “’E’s only protectin’ me. It’s the nature o’ the verwulfen to guard their families from threat.”

A curious insight. All of the men, and Esme, of course, were family to him. She felt a jolt of keen longing, swiftly quashed. Blade had his little family and she had hers. In a blinding moment of clarity, she realized that perhaps he would understand what she was trying to do.

And yet…she didn’t have the courage to open her mouth and ask him for help. For what if he
didn’t
understand? And what if he lost control of his inner demons—the way he had at times—and killed her brother?

“Honor?” He watched the emotion play over her face.

“I’ll wait then. Until Will thinks I can manage,” she said softly.
Coward
.

Blade stared at her a moment longer, as though waiting for her to say more. Then his gaze shuttered. “Aye. So be it.”

Chapter 17

Blade leaned against the doorjamb. Esme hadn’t heard him. She was folding pastry, sinking her knuckles into the wet dough and humming under her breath.

“Enjoyin’ yourself?”

She started, slapping a pastry-covered hand to her chest. “My goodness, Blade. You could have given me some warning.” As she raked an eye over him, a faint smile touched her lips. “You’ve fed. The question, I suppose, is did you enjoy yourself?”

Far too much. “I ’ad to. She disarmed me with some bloody poison she’s got.”

Esme’s jaw dropped, then snapped shut. “You were careful with her?”

“Careful as kittens.” He dragged a hand over his face, his stubble scratching his palm. It had cost him. He was still hungry, but for flesh now. The sweet taste of her blood had barely sated him. He could still taste it on his lips, and the scent of her arousal clung to him, a torture of its own.

Bloody hell. He knew what a feeding could do to some people. But Honoria had been almost clawing the sheets, her back arched and her hips thrusting. How the hell had he restrained himself?

Because
you
want
her
to
trust
you
. He rubbed at his chest with another scowl. It was important to him, important enough to drag himself back from the edge when he knew he could have taken her…And destroyed her trust in him forever.

“You look thoughtful.” Esme started kneading the dough again. “What’s going through your mind, Blade?”

He slung a hip against the bench. Esme was possibly the only person who could ask that question and get an answer. “I nearly took ’er.”