Vengeance: The Niteclif Evolutions, Book 3 (6 page)

“Why did Micah scare you?”
 

Hellion stiffened and stepped back, but I clung to him like a flea to a camel. “He didn’t frighten me, Maddy.”

“I’ll tolerate a lot from you, Hellion, particularly given what you’ve just disclosed, but lying isn’t on the list. Tell me why he frightened you.”

“He didn’t,” Hellion insisted. “What he
is
frightens me.”

“Explain.”

He led me to the couch and pulled me into his lap, but I couldn’t relax. I was too enraged at the abuse Hellion had suffered, and I made efforts to stand.
 

“You’re the first and only person I’ve told, and I expected different from you, Maddy.” Anger warred with hurt in his words. Setting me aside, he stood.
 

Only then did I understand. He’d thought I was disgusted by what had happened to the boy he’d been. I launched myself at the man. It was my first real tackle maneuver and, when I looked back on it later, I was damned proud I managed to take him to the floor.

We crashed in a tangle of limbs and grunts and expletives, wrestling around as Hellion tried to disentangle himself from me without hurting me and I made every effort to stick to him. In the end I won, but not because I was either stronger or the better fighter. No, if he’d been interested in really fighting with me, he could have snapped me in half. I won because I wasn’t worried about hurting him. I grabbed his testicles and squeezed hard enough to let him know I was done screwing around. He froze. We lay on our sides facing each other, though my nose only came to the top of his sternum. Panting like landed trout, we gasped for air.
 

He looked down at me, frowning. “What the fuck, Maddy?”

“Don’t you dare,
dare
walk away from me. You promised to quit that shit and you’ve started to do it twice today. It’s pissing me off, Hellion.” He began to pull back and I squeezed harder.
 

He bellowed and reached to remove my hand.

I kissed his chest. The fight had aroused him, and he grew larger under my hand despite his frustrations with me. I kissed his chest again, the silk of his shirt warm and fluid against my lips. I licked at his nipple then blew on the wet spot.

He moved toward my mouth.
 

Without releasing his groin, I wiggled around until I was kneeling beside him. His lips were soft against mine as I bent over him. The feel of his erection twitching against my wrist made me release his testicles and, the minute he was free of me, he flipped me onto my back. The sound of tearing cloth and my gasp of surprise made him growl in satisfaction. My pants and undergarments were next to go. I lay on the rug, completely bare to him, and he manipulated my nipple with one hand as he deftly worked to release his belt with the other.
 

“Damn it,” he snapped, letting go of my breast and yanking at his pants.

“Slow down,” I said gently.

Her shook his head. “I don’t need ‘slow,’ Maddy. I need to put the past away and cleanse myself in you. I need to bring you to release as I achieve my own and make it a matter of love between us, not ugly memories.” The sound of his zipper being ripped down was erotic, but it was nothing to the feel of his freed erection lying across my bared hip. Hot and silky, it twitched anxiously.
 

It had been several days since we’d been together, and his size was a little intimidating. I reached down and caressed him.

Her yanked my hand away. “No,
anamchara
, I’ll have this my way and apologize for it later.” His tone was gruff, but underneath was the unspoken question,
Do you trust me to push the boundaries of fair play without hurting you?

I swallowed hard and nodded, my breasts aching and my sex slippery at the thought of him taking me in such a base manner. I had no idea.
 

He grabbed my hips and flipped me over, the stitches in my side pulling but not tearing skin. Forcing my knees apart, he came up behind me and positioned himself, the broad head of his erection bobbing in anticipation of redemption, sliding back and forth over my entrance. I arched my back and pushed toward him, but his bruising grip stopped my efforts. I struggled and he tightened his hands, pushing heat through them until I felt a strange internal stroking. An involuntary mewl curled through my chest.

That one soft sound was his undoing. He thrust his hips forward in a single, hard push, but I was so tight he couldn’t penetrate me completely despite my heavy arousal. I cried out and he silenced my voice so that all I could do was hiss. He pulled back and slammed home, seating himself so deeply that he hit my cervix hard. He paused, breathing heavily through his nose, and reached forward to push down on my shoulder with one hand and lift up on my hip with the other.

“Shoulders to the floor, ass in the air. Do you understand?” he demanded.
 

I nodded, grateful to feel my body making accommodations for his length and girth, as well as his aggressive approach.

“Stay that way. No matter what I do, you’ll stay that way. Nod your head.”

I did as he asked.

Grabbing my hips with both hands, he lifted me so high my knees only brushed the Oriental rug. He used his grip to lever me on and off his thick shaft. His occasional grunts, our heavy breathing and the rapid slap of skin on skin were the only sounds in the room despite my open-mouthed cries. He was rough, taking his aggression to the point of violence but never crossing over, and the dominance was doing strange, wonderful things to me. I was building toward release, my walls grasping him on every push and pull, when his magic rubbed across my engorged clitoris. I exploded. I couldn’t control my reaction. Despite my earlier promise to stay as he’d positioned me, I tried to push up on my hands and force him to true violence. Hellion dropped my hips and grabbed my wrists, pinning them straight back so my hands rested beside my knees. He hunched over me and, using my wrists as grips, pistoned in and out even harder. Now, though, I had no way to move on impact because my arms would only stretch so far. It was exactly what I needed from him, this animalistic rutting that let him exert his dominance and regain what he’d lost in the reliving of black memories.
 

“Give me noise,” he panted. “Let me hear you.”

I cried out as he slammed into me again and again, never able to completely bury himself in me at this angle because he was just too large.
 

“I said…let me…hear you.” He grunted with effort, his grip growing slippery with the mingled sweat from our skin.

“Don’t you fucking stop!”
 

“That’s. My. Woman.” His thrusts punctuated every word.

I struggled and he tightened his grip on my wrists until I felt the bones grinding together. “Come, damn you,” I screamed.

He found his release with an ear-splitting roar and let go of my wrists.
 

I pushed up and rode him hard. Caught in his own violent orgasm, he let me. My second orgasm was as powerful as the first and I shuddered through it, my muscles squeezing him hard enough that he hissed and dug his fingers into my hips. It was finally over and I collapsed forward, completely and totally spent.

If the bad guy came back to the house, he’d have to wait to have a fair fight on his hands. I assumed I’d be fully recovered by next Wednesday. Probably.

Hellion lowered himself to the floor next to me with shaky arms. My skin registered the movement of every hair as he slid an arm around me and pulled me close. His chin rested on the crown of my head and my soles rested atop his feet. We touched everywhere in between.
 

Part of me wanted to weep with gratitude that he touched me tenderly while the rest of me was just so damned grateful that this man was mine, scars and history and all.

“
Tá grá agam duit
, Maddy.”

“And you, my love,” I whispered.

“Have I hurt you?”

“No. I think we both needed that. I know
I’ve
needed it since I woke up this morning.”

He licked the shell of my ear. I hummed my approval and he chuckled. “I must admit, I don’t think I’ve ever been so rough with you. Have I?”

“I think a man your size has to be careful when you’re that aggressive—”

“So I did hurt you.” He moved to prop himself up on one elbow.

I shifted so I was lying on my back looking up at him before I answered. “I wouldn’t want it that rough every time, but there are times it’s the only type of love-making that will do. Don’t you think?”

“I do, but I’d not call it ‘love-making,’
mo shíorghrá
. That was clearly fucking.”

“You’re wrong.” I traced a hand over his face and, in the now-dark room, it was the only way I knew he’d quirked his brow at me. “You are. It was making love. Know how I know?”
 

He waited, silent.

“I never stopped loving you.”

“You slay me with mere words, Madeleine Niteclif. Should you ever decide to turn them against me in true anger, you’ll likely leave nothing more than the husk of a man.”

“Sweet talker.”

He laughed out loud, and it was a wonderful sound.

We cleaned up and, as usual following exuberant sex with him, soreness set in as endorphins wore off. We chatted comfortably about inconsequential things, both of us avoiding the mounting tension that was developing as we sought to avoid the topic of the supernatural creature in the main floor guest room.
 

The third time he asked me if my stitches were okay, I snapped that if he was that concerned he should just heal them himself.
 

“What do you want from me, Maddy? I’ve lain myself bare at your feet and then used you unfairly. Would you prefer I just leave you to your own devices and go on about my business?” he demanded.

“No, but we need to talk about what’s really going on here. I don’t ever want this to come between us, Hellion, and it feels like it’s still there, hanging on to you like some wraith.”

He turned to me very slowly, and he couldn’t have turned any paler than if I’d kneed him in the balls.
 

“What did you just say?” His voice was little more than a whisper.

“Which part?”

He moved to lean his ass against one of the bathroom counters, scrubbing his hands over his face. Without a word, he reached out, took my hand and led me back into the bedroom, folded the covers back and gestured for me to get in.
 

“You’ve threatened to walk out on me twice tonight, so you first.”

“Stubborn wench,” he muttered, but climbed in.

“Bull-headed Irishman,” I countered and accepted his help up into the tall bed.

“I suppose we’re both right then.”

“Har, har.”
 

Hellion shifted pillows around until we were propped up side by side and he took my hand in his, lacing our fingers together with care. He used his free hand to better settle the covers around us. When he began to straighten the duvet, I nearly popped a major vein.

“Enough. Jeez, Hellion.” I flipped the covers back and scrambled to my knees to face him. “What did I say that freaked you out so bad?”

“Sit,” he commanded.

“Would you like me to speak too? Woof.”

“Damn it all to hell, Maddy! Give me a bit of a handout, would you?” He yanked his hair off his face and reaching for one of the seemingly hundreds of leather thongs that he was forever taking off and setting down around the house. He moved as if punishing himself, tying it back tightly as he answered my question. “What I said earlier is true. I’m not afraid of Micah. But I’m afraid of what he represents. You need to understand something about the Nephilim, Maddy.”

“What are Nephilim?”

“They were all angels in Shamayim, and they were thrown, or thrust, out for some indiscretion. They truly can’t say. To declare to others what should only be confessed to Yahweh is called
asur
, or forbidden.” He shifted to face me, so solemn.
 

Kissing him gently seemed the only answer I could provide, so I did.

He rewarded me with a fleeting smile. “When Nephilim are thrust out of Shamayim for whatever indiscretion they commit, and I understand it must be significant, they’re sent to Earth to live among mortals and earn their forgiveness and redemption in order to be allowed to return. As immortals, they can be stuck here as long as is necessary to appease Yahweh. That’s nearly all that’s known about them, whether you search religious texts, formal mythology or urban fantasy.
 

“Nephilim are the most secretive of all the supernatural creatures on this plane of existence. They don’t participate in the world’s High Councils, they don’t interact with other immortals and, to the best of my knowledge, they don’t reach out to form relationships with other supes.” He gave me a second small smile. “You might catch them with a woman now and again, but even that’s rare.”

I settled back and knelt beside him, my nakedness forgotten. “So what’s so scary about this secretive group? Do they have special abilities or heightened senses that pose a threat? I don’t get what freaked you out so bad.”