Kiss of Steel (36 page)

Again silence. But his head tilted as if he was listening to her. Water dripped into the bowl, filling it with vibrant red. She’d thought the wound to be closed, but parts of it still gaped like a badly sewn hem.

Tremors started in his hands as he kept cleaning the wound.

“Here,” she said, closing her fingers over his. “Let me. Please.”

A growl vibrated through his throat. A warning.

Honoria put her hand in the small of his back and pushed him toward the sturdy rocking chair by the window. “Yes, yes. I know you’re not happy about it, but let us pretend for a moment that neither of us finds the other rude, surly, or obnoxious.”

His legs chose that moment to give out, and he found himself staring up at her, his nostrils flaring with pain.

Honoria collected the bowl of water, pleasantly surprised to find that it was still hot. It had been boiled after all. She knelt at his feet and wrung the cloth out. “Do you need stitches? Or will it heal naturally? Or supernaturally, as it may be?”

“It’ll heal.”

Honoria rolled her eyes. “Honestly, would it hurt you to be polite?”

Will met her gaze. “I don’t like you ’cos you ain’t good for him.”

“Blade seems to think otherwise.”

“Aye. When a man’s dog-drawn, he ain’t thinkin’ with the best of his faculties.”

Honoria patted gently at the fleshy wound. “I’m not entirely certain what you mean, but I assume it isn’t flattering.” Silence lingered as she cleaned the wound. She sat back and discarded the rag in the water, reaching for the clean linen bandages. “I don’t intend to hurt him,” she said. “Never that. He’s been so terribly good to me.”

“You aren’t part of this world.” He sneered down at her work-a-day dress. “How long before you head back where you belong?”

Honoria drew the bandage around his waist, gesturing for him to sit upright. “You’re mistaking me for someone who cares for the fancy silks and fine steam carriages of the Echelon. That’s Lena’s style, not mine. It never has been.” She gave a tug and drew the bandage tight, causing his breath to hiss between his teeth. “And you’ll have to come to some sort of accommodation with your dislike of me, for I’m not going anywhere.”

As soon as she said it, she realized it was true. She had never had a home, not truly. Caine House was a distant memory, and Lannister House was nothing but a nightmare dreamscape to her. Her present little flat, while shabby and barely habitable, had become the first place she’d ever had for herself. And the thought of leaving Blade behind made her sick to her stomach.

The rookery was a dangerous place, and he was reckless with his own life, placing himself between his own men and danger. A blue blood was not indestructible. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind, never knowing if he was alive or hurt. Never being able to hold him in her arms. To kiss him.

She blinked and realized that she’d frozen in thought. Will watched her, his expression unfriendly. Honoria leaned forward to wrap the bandage around his waist again.

“He’s mine, you big brute,” she said fiercely and tugged the linen tight. How curious to realize that she meant every word. “And you shall simply have to reconcile yourself to that fact. Now, may I fetch you anything?”

“Raw meat,” he said sullenly. “From the larder.”

Chapter 22

Silence echoed through the warren. Honoria found herself at loose ends, having seen Lena and Charlie to their beds. Esme was sitting by Rip’s side, and Honoria couldn’t find Blade anywhere.

Nervousness settled down her spine, like ants tracking across her skin, as she climbed the stairs to his chambers. There were plenty of spare beds for the night, but she knew she’d find no rest until she’d seen if he was all right. Grief had etched itself into the hard lines of his face, and though his tone had been light as he talked Rip through his first feeding, a line of tension lingered in his shoulders.

It was frightening how much she had begun to think of him. He haunted her every thought, every action. She found herself looking for him when she entered rooms, and when he was not there the flare of excitement in her stomach died a little death. Worry ate at her, her heart opening just wide enough to reach out tentatively toward him. Once, only Lena and Charlie had owned pieces of her worry, her care. Now there was another claim on her emotions.

A blue blood. A creature Honoria had always despised, and yet he’d managed to force her eyes open, to make her question everything her father had always told her about them, to question everything she’d seen herself. She was so confused.

Perhaps she had been hasty in declaring her hatred. And perhaps, she was embarrassed to admit, a trifle prejudiced. After all, had it not been her own voice that said, “
Manipulation
is
not
a
symptom
of
the
disease…
”?

Light shone beneath his door. Honoria took an unsteady breath and eased it open. “Blade?” There was no answer.

His bedroom was dark, but light beckoned from the bathroom. Honoria paused in the doorway, the warm candlelight illuminating the room with an ambient glow. Something in her chest tightened as she saw him, naked except for a towel around his hips, his head sunk into his hands as he sat on the stool by the mirror. He didn’t move when she entered. There was a half-empty bottle of blud-wein by his feet.

Honoria took a hesitant step forward and drew breath to call his name again.

“You shouldn’t be ’ere.”

Her lips parted in surprise. “I wanted to see if you needed anything.”

Black eyes met hers in the mirror, stealing her breath. The look on his face was expressionless. “Do I look like I need anythin’?”

A lump formed in her throat. “Yes.”

His gaze darkened. “Get out.”

“No.”

Suddenly he was on his feet in front of her. She had barely taken a step back in surprise before his hand tightened on her arm.

“I ain’t fit company tonight.”

Honoria stared up at him. Her heart was pounding madly in her ears. He was giving her a chance to leave. A chance to escape before…before things changed between them. This was not the man she knew. This was a man driven by his demons tonight. Crushed by grief, by hopelessness, by failure. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him tight but knew immediately that such was not the comfort he would take tonight. The look in his eyes was too heated. Blistering.

His gaze lowered at her hesitation. Settled on her breasts. There was just the slightest hitch in his breathing. “Last chance, damn you,” he said.

Her hands curled into fists. The very thought of it left her breathless. And yet when her mouth opened, the words that came out were not quite the ones she’d expected. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A stunning realization. She wanted this man, wanted what was to come between them. The very thought tightened her nipples. Wet heat pooled in her stomach and lower, in places she tried not to think about very often.

If she had expected him to be pleased with her response, she’d thought wrong. Blade turned and swept his shaving kit off the vanity. His little mirror shattered across the floor into a million shards. The soap skittered under the claw-foot bath, and his shaving brush rocked slowly to silence beside the razor. Blade leaned on the vanity, his head lowered as though he sought some measure of control. His back, his spine, his shoulders—all tight with rippling tension.

It should have frightened her. His passions were wild and animalistic, his fury sharp-edged. But he would never hurt her. She knew it with a certainty she’d never felt before.

It encouraged her to step forward, her shoes crunching on the glass shards. Nervousness faded. “You don’t scare me,” she whispered. “You would never hurt me. So if you’re trying to make me run away…then you’ve failed.”

His head lifted. Black eyes met hers in the mirror. Honoria’s breath caught, but not in fear. A pulse of desire throbbed between her thighs at the look.

“I am dangerous,” he said through tightly clenched teeth. His nails dug into the vanity. “Damn it, Honor. Are you so foolish? These ’ands ’ave known blood before.”

“I trust you.” She reached out to stroke his trembling back. She’d seen him in this state before, knew how hard he fought to control himself. And hearing what he’d admitted about his sister, Emily, only strengthened her resolve. This was a man who knew the cost of failure. She trusted him more than he trusted himself.

Blade flinched. His nostrils flared as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I need to be alone tonight.”

“I want to be with you.”

Silence fell, broken not even by the sound of his breath. His head lifted, the predator staring at her once again in the glistening facet of the mirror. “You’ve only ever seen me at me best.” He did not want her to see him like this. There was a faint self-loathing undertone to his voice. “’Ow can you forget what I’ve done?” He spoke of his sister.

“Does a pistol murder a man? Or is it the man who pulls the trigger? Can we blame a rabid dog who tears apart a child? Or should we blame the one who kicked and starved and tortured it?” Her heart ached at the look on his face. “I
don’t
forget what you’ve done. For me, for Charlie, for Lena even. I don’t forget my gloves. I don’t forget all the times you bought me food when I was so hungry I could cry. The people you look after.” Tears flooded her eyes. “I’m sorry. You can never bring her back. A part of you will probably never forgive yourself. But when I look at you I don’t see a man who murdered his sister. I see a man who clawed his way out of the gutters and took control of his life. I see a man who made a family of his own. Who loved. And is loved. I see a man I want to kiss.” Her hand stroked down his back. “I see a man I want to…to give myself to.”

A sound erupted from his throat. Half groan, half cry. Then his hands were on her, shoving her back against the vanity, her back pressed against the mirror. There was no time to protest. No time to halt the invasion. His mouth was on hers, brutal, claiming, and his hands shoved her skirts up in thick bunches.

Glass bottles of scented oil smashed to the floor as he grabbed her under her knees and dragged her body against his. Her thighs caressed his hips and he settled into place as though he belonged there.

“I want you more ’n I’ve ever wanted anythin’.” His hands came up and cupped her face. The thumbs began a gentle stroke against her cheeks as he stared at her mouth. His hands shook. “But I’m ’fraid I’ll ’urt you.”

Honoria took his hand and dragged it lower. She slid it under her skirts, against the heated skin of her thigh. “That fear is why I know you won’t,” she whispered. Her other hand went to his nape and she dragged his mouth back to hers. “Make love to me, Blade. And don’t stop.”

The words stole the last ounce of his control. He groaned and buried his face against her neck. Cool breath brushed against her heated skin, stirring a shiver down her entire body.

The hand on her thigh tightened. “So be it.”

His mouth took hers in a punishing kiss. She could taste the hunger on him and the reckless passion. It swept her along into a torrent of need until she was shaking and trembling. Her hands found his chest and slid over the silky-smooth muscle, exploring the hard planes of his flesh. His nipple abraded her palm and she dragged her hand lower, tracing the ripple of his abdomen. It was all so new, so unexpected. The thought that came to mind was
hard
. His body was the very opposite of hers.

Only his mouth was soft. His tongue traced hers with a hungry touch, any attempt at civilized conduct flying out the window. The hand on her thigh slid higher, cupping her buttock. He rocked her against his hips, the towel abrading the delicate flesh of her inner thigh. His cock, proud and erect, butted against the wet fabric of her drawers.

“Oh,
God
,” she groaned, stealing a breath. She couldn’t stop her nails from curling into little claws in his shoulders.

His tongue pushed inside her mouth, a sweeping caress against her own. Hand cupping the back of her neck, he dragged her closer, rubbing his hips harder against her. Honoria fell backward, thrusting a hand out to support herself. Another bottle of cologne tumbled and hit the floor. The very hand that had stroked her nape became an anchor in her hair, fisting in the thick strands. Blade tilted her head back, leaving her vulnerable and exposed to his mouth.

Hot. Wet. His teeth gently scraped the column of her windpipe, reminding her just how precarious her position was.

Her other hand clutched his shoulder. She had to trust him. But as his lips traced a blazing path across her collarbone, a little flicker of fear pulled in her womb. Honoria gasped as her body went liquid.

Blade nuzzled her neck, his tongue darting out to trace the vein that throbbed so hungrily. With his other hand, he brushed against the cotton of her drawers. The sensation made her jump. The pressure was so light it stirred the material against her skin, a teasing whisper of sensation.

A finger slipped through the opening in her drawers. A faint brush against the wetness of her quim and then a stronger, less tentative touch. Honoria trembled. She wanted…ached…It was too much. And not enough.