Veil of Shadows (10 page)

Her knees threatened to give out.

Swallowing, she started toward him, placing one foot in front of the other and trying to decide if she should really do this.

Then he leaned his head back at the camp’s inner wall and a faint smile curled his lips as he stared at her. “You are utterly beautiful,” he murmured.

Oh, hell yes, she wanted to do this. And not because of the compliment, although it did further serve to weaken her knees. But because when he looked at her, with that intent, probing stare, it made her feel as though all he saw was her. It made her see nothing but him.

It made her forget she was anything, anybody, other than just herself. She was simply Syn . . . and it made her want him that much more.

Sinking to her knees beside him, she eyed the knife in his hand. He was carving something. She eyed it curiously and glanced up at him. “What are you doing?”

He brandished the bit of wood in his hand. “Trying to occupy my mind so I do not come looking for you. And you . . . I do not need to ask what you are doing. You are avoiding giving me an answer.” A grin curled his lips and he added, “Again.”

“Avoiding giving you what answer?”

He lowered his lashes, staring at her from under them, and murmured, “You said something about jumping someone. I asked who. You haven’t answered.”

“You already know the answer,” she said slowly. She flexed her hands and then rested them on her thighs. Hopefully, it would keep her from reaching for him. Hopefully.

“So you want to jump me . . . What exactly does that mean? Have I not been the good little soldier boy for you, Captain?” As he asked, something glittered in his eyes.

Something wicked. Something hot.

Her heart started to race. “You know, I’ve never once felt the need to strip naked when somebody calls me Captain. Until now.”

“Are you feeling the need to strip naked?”

She bit her lip. Curled her fingers into the thick, durable fabric of her pants, gripping it desperately. “Yes.”

“Does this mean you want complications?”

“I want you,” she said, forcing the words out of her tight throat. “I can’t think about the complications because all I can think about is you. So I guess that means the complications don’t matter as much as I thought they might.”

She looked so nervous, Xan realized. He understood it completely. From the moment he’d glimpsed her wandering aimlessly in his direction, he had been dealing with all sorts of nerves and anxiety. What if she was coming to tell him that she had made her decision and she wanted him to stay away from her? What if she told him the opposite?

But now, as she stared at him, need and nerves warring in her cat’s eyes, he decided none of it mattered. Not right now. She wanted him. That was what counted.

Doubts tried to rise inside him, but he shoved them away. Nothing mattered in just this moment. Save her.

Slowly, he slid his blade into its sheath and tucked the small bit of wood he’d been working into one of his pockets. Then he pushed himself to his feet and held out a hand.

She placed her hand in his and stood. As small as it was, there was strength in that touch. Her palm was calloused, her nails brutally short and naked. Lifting it, he pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist. Her pulse leaped at his touch and he felt his own do the same in response.

She twined their fingers and tugged on his hand. “Come with me.”

“Where?” he asked, lifting a brow. Not that it mattered. He’d follow her to the ends of the earth if she asked. That realization should have shaken him to the core, and it might—later, when thoughts of touching her, when thoughts of mounting her sleek, slender body weren’t threatening to drive him mad.

A feline smile curled her lips and she murmured, “Being one of the people in charge does on occasion have its benefits. I’ve got my own dormer. As charming as your bunkmates may be, I’d rather not have an audience, and I’m also not much for having sex in the grass. Leads to bug bites.”

“I love the way you think.”

He followed along beside her and tried not to rush. He had no idea where her dormer was; otherwise he might have scooped her up and run the entire way. Need pounded inside him, pulsed in tandem with his heart and echoed through every fiber of his being. How in the hell was it possible for a walk to take so long, and how was it possible that he grew more aroused with every step?

Every fucking step.

He grew more aware of her, noticing how her chest rose and fell as she breathed, noticing how gracefully she moved. The way the faint light glimmered on her hair, dancing off the blue-black highlights.

What in the hell was taking so long? Did she have a dormer built on the other side of the mountains?

Then they reached it, and abruptly, he realized he didn’t know if he was ready to do this. Didn’t know if he should. Somehow, he knew deep inside that touching her would be unlike touching any other woman in his life. She was unlike any other woman, with her strength and her confidence, yet there was vulnerability that was also part of who she was.

Once he touched her, once he had her, could he let her go?

Did he even have a chance of keeping her? Deep inside, the answer to that question made itself known. No. He could never keep her . . . and he shouldn’t even think of touching her.

Then she tipped her head back and smiled at him and all those questions faded away into nothingness. It didn’t matter. In that moment, only
she
mattered. She led him inside, and the moment the door shut behind them, he grabbed her and whirled around, pressing her up against the door.

Over the past three days, he’d envisioned how he might handle it if she came to him like this. A slow, careful seduction—that had been his ultimate plan.

But plans often fell apart, and his had just crumbled. Slanting his mouth against hers, he fisted a hand in her short, dark hair and tugged, arching her head back to deepen his kiss. She opened for him even as she worked her hands between them and went to work on the utility vest he wore over his tunic. It went flying across the room and then she reached for his belt. Heavy with his knife and other weapons, he should have handled it with more care but he had no patience, no finesse, as he nudged her hands away and all but ripped the blasted thing off. It fell to their feet and the rest of their clothes followed.

When he had her naked, he forced himself to take a step back. He needed to see her, needed to at least once see that slender, strong body completely. His chest heaved as he gritted out, “Bed.”

“No.” A smile curled her lips and she reached for him. “Here.” She drew him back to her and reached up, twining her arms around his neck.

Xan groaned and cupped her hips in his hands, lifting her. He braced her back against the door and leaned into her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, an action that opened the soft, sleek folds of her sex.

He nestled his cock against her heat and rocked against her. They both shuddered. The scent of her rose to tease him. Hot. Musky. Perfect. Ripe . . . Gritting his teeth, he lifted his head and muttered, “Are you . . . Should we . . .”

He couldn’t think—

Her lashes drifted low. “I won’t get pregnant if that’s your concern. Unless there are other concerns . . . ?”

“No.” No. Other than that, the only concern he had was just having her. Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, steadied himself and pressed against her. Then he stilled and shifted his grip, catching her knees over his elbows and lifting her, opening her.

“I want to see,” he muttered. “Want to watch as I take you.”

She whimpered, a hungry female sound that did bad, bad things to his already shaky control. Then she lowered her gaze, and they both watched as he entered her. She was wet and slick, but tight, flowering open around him as he forged deeper.

By the time he had buried his throbbing dick completely inside her, they were both sweating, both shaking, and Syn was making hot, sexy little sounds deep in her throat. Hunger rode him, hard and demanding, but he resisted the urge. This wasn’t going to last long enough as it was, and he needed it to. Needed more than a fast, quick fuck that ended nearly as soon as it began.

So instead, he withdrew as slowly as he’d entered. And he continued to watch her. Her mound had tight, black curls. Her clit, swollen and red, peeked out from the folds of her sex. And where she stretched so tight around him, her flesh glistened with dew. His mouth watered, and if he had any semblance of control, he might have pulled away and gone to his knees before her, pressed his mouth just there to see if she tasted as hot, as sweet, as he thought she would.

She whimpered and strained against him, arching in his arms. “More,” she demanded. She didn’t wait for him to respond, though, sliding her hand down, her slender, pale fingers seeking out the stiff bud of her clit and stroking it. The sight of her touching herself had his balls drawing tight against him and he swore as hot and cold chills raced down his spine. He let go of her legs, groaned as she wrapped them around his hips. Then he caught her wrists and pinned them over her head—if he had to keep watching as she stroked herself, this would end far too soon. Excitement flashed in her eyes even as she jerked against his hold.

He smiled at her and leaned against her, carefully tightening his hold and watching as her lashes fluttered over her eyes. “You like that, Captain?” he teased, dipping his head to rub his mouth against hers.

She responded by biting his lower lip, then sucking it into her mouth. “More,” she demanded. Then she clenched around him, using her internal muscles to milk his cock.

Buried inside those snug folds, his cock jerked demandingly. Growling against her mouth, he said, “Stop—I want this to last.”

“Why? We have all night.”

“Excellent point.” Then he let go of his fragile hold on control, riding her soft, sleek body and listening as she sobbed out his name.

Her breasts flattened against his chest, her nipples tight, hard points. The muscles in her belly spasmed and clenched and she trembled. All over, she trembled, shuddering as though she might fly apart in his arms.

He wanted that—just that—wanted to watch her fly apart and be there to hold on to as she came back to herself. Back to him. Letting go of her wrists, he worked his arms around her body and caught her, held her close.

His climax rushed up on him, demanding—insistent. He felt her tightening, felt the tension mount in her body just as he felt himself falling, faltering. Her arms wrapped around his neck, held him, just as securely as he held her.

“Come for me,” he rasped.
Please . . . before I fall alone
.

But it wasn’t necessary because even as he whispered the words, she was flying apart in his arms, a low, hungry moan falling from her lips. It rolled through them both, echoing, emptying them both.

Everything else fell away and for him, there was just her.

Just her.

Hours later, they lay on her narrow bunk. He had his back to the wall, with her wedged between his body and the edge of the bunk. It shouldn’t have been comfortable. Not one bit, but Syn was rather certain she hadn’t ever felt this satisfied, this right, in quite some time. Possibly ever.

She felt warm. She felt safe. She felt wanted. And that ache in her heart didn’t even feel like a memory.

She rarely lingered with a lover once the moment passed. All she had ever looked for was a brief escape, some pleasure, some release of the tension that built inside so many of them who had spent most of their lives on the front line of a war. After that was done, the silence that often built was uncomfortable.

This, though, this felt right.

Utterly right. In a way, it terrified her. Not enough, though. Because she couldn’t imagine pulling away from him just then.

He nuzzled her hair and murmured, “It is getting late.”