Scorched by Darkness: Eternal Mates Series Book 18 Page 14

  Her gaze fell to his hand again and she prodded his fingertip.

  “I’ll help,” he said and she lifted her head, her eyes locking with his as she sought the truth in them, needing to see he really meant that. In their violet depths, pain shone, stirring a feeling inside her that said she wasn’t alone—he had lost family too. “If your brother is alive, we’ll find him. Family is important.”

  Something she felt deep in her soul.

  Being a lone phoenix shifter had been difficult. Her kind had strong connections to their prides and their families, and she had missed it in the decades she had been alone, had felt as if a piece of her was missing.

  There were other phoenix prides in the north, in valleys close to where her home had once been, but going to them hadn’t appealed to her.

  Not when they hadn’t come to help her family. Her pride.

  They had left them in the hands of the mages. Mackenzie drew down a deep breath and purged the anger that wanted to surge through her. She couldn’t hold it against them. Phoenix numbers were so low now that it was important everyone remained safe. If it had been another pride that had been taken, her family wouldn’t have attempted to rescue them.

  She was grateful her oldest brother had had the sense to employ others to do the searching for him. Was he still out there somewhere?

  “How did you escape?” Hartt lowered his gaze to their hands and turned his in hers, captured her fingers and stroked his thumb across them. “Grave mentioned a fire that scorched the mansion, killing everything.”

  He flicked a glance at her, and she could easily read in his eyes what he wouldn’t ask.

  “I didn’t kill anyone from my family. There was no one left to kill. It was just me, in a cell, waiting for my turn.” She sighed and clutched his fingers, savoured the soft caress of his thumb along hers and sought a deeper connection with him, one she wasn’t sure how to make happen, but one she desperately needed as that night rolled up on her. “I felt my brother die. I knew I was next. I let rage take me, stoked the pain I felt from losing my family into an inferno, until I was burning inside… a phoenix in spirit but not in body thanks to the spell.”

  “If you couldn’t use your other form, how did you… oh… Mackenzie.” The soft way he said her name tore at her, brought tears to her eyes as he gazed at her, the black slashes of his eyebrows furrowing. “You killed yourself.”

  She looked away from him again. “I thought it would be easy. I mean, I know I can come back from death. It should have been easy.”

  But it had been so hard.

  She had made several attempts, faltering at the last second, because the only option open to her had been snapping her own neck. The mages had left her with nothing in her cell she could have used as a weapon. Bleeding out would have been too dangerous anyway. If she had lost too much blood, she wouldn’t have resurrected.

  She shivered as she thought about her latest death, about how afraid she had been, how desperate she had been for death to take her in the end because she had wanted to come back.

  Her gaze lifted again, locking on Hartt.

  She had felt compelled to come back to him.

  “When I managed to… well, my plan worked. The rage I had stoked, rousing my phoenix side, was unleashed. It worked better than I expected. I don’t remember what happened. I only remember coming around in the ruins of that house, cold to the bone and still afraid.”

  Hartt placed his other hand over hers, tangling them together in a knot that felt too good. She stared at their joined hands, letting her past wash over her, letting it all flow away to leave her calm inside. Lighter than she had felt in a long time.

  She slowly lifted her eyes and her gaze collided with his. His soft expression reached deep into her, touched her soul and warmed her heart, and stirred something she found she didn’t want to deny.

  Her walls fell away as she leaned towards him, as her focus lowered to his mouth, as a need filled her again and she didn’t fight it this time.

  She wanted to kiss him.

  She wanted these sparks that leaped between them to set her on fire.

  Even when she felt sure she was only going to get burned.

  Chapter 14

  Mackenzie captured Hartt’s lips before he could draw away from her, willed him to respond as he froze, his mouth still against hers as she swept her lips over it. A heavy feeling grew inside her as he didn’t react, slowly filling her with doubt and a need to break away from him, to curse herself for thinking he wanted this too.

  For thinking he felt the sparks that leaped between them too.

  She went to break the kiss.

  Hartt seized her nape, tunnelled his fingers into her hair and claimed her mouth, his kiss far fiercer than hers had been. She melted into it, gasped as he slid his other arm around her waist and pulled her to him, settling her sideways on his lap. He groaned as he stroked his tongue across the seam of her lips and she opened for him, as she brushed her tongue against his and angled her head to kiss him more deeply.

  He leaned into her, bending her backwards, towards one arm of the blue chair, and cradled her as he kissed her. He slowed it, softened it until she was floating in his arms, lost in how good it felt to kiss and be kissed by him. He skimmed his hand down her side, over her hip, and she trembled as he made contact with her bare skin. His whisper-soft caress heated her, threw fuel onto the fire that had ignited inside her the moment she had set eyes on him, making her burn for him.

  For more.

  Mackenzie brushed her fingers through the short blue-black hair at the back of his head and then brought her hand forwards. He moaned and shuddered as her palm accidentally brushed his ear, and she couldn’t stop herself from doing it again. She feathered her fingers along his ear, from lobe to pointed tip, and smiled wickedly as a low groan rumbled from his chest and he stilled against her for a heartbeat before snarling and seizing her mouth in a punishing kiss. Flames licked through her, had her writhing in his arms and desperate for more as he dominated her, as he bent her to his will and possessed her.

  She teased the pointed tip of his ear again, revelled in the way he kissed her harder still, the way his fingers tightened against her, pressing into her flesh so hard she was sure she would have bruises when they were done.

  She didn’t care.

  She liked how fiercely he held her, as if he didn’t want to let her go, as if he needed her as badly as she needed him.

  She liked his strength, how he easily matched her, made her feel she didn’t have to hold back with him. She wouldn’t hurt him. He was strong enough to handle her.

  Mackenzie ran with that, couldn’t stop herself from twisting in his arms, moving to sit astride his thighs facing him. Her tunic rode up, but she didn’t care as Hartt palmed her bare legs, as he skimmed his hands up to beneath the only thing she wore. She shivered and kissed him harder, tangled her fingers in his hair and clutched him to her as she waited to see what he would do, on the verge of panting with anticipation.

  He groaned as his hands met her bare backside, yanked her closer so she pressed against him, and rocked his hips up. She moaned and shuddered as his hardness pressed against her, twisted her fingers in his hair and yanked his head back. He grunted, paid her back by sinking the tips of his fingers into her bottom and thrusting up against her, rubbing her.

  Gods, she needed more.

  She kissed him, tangled her tongue with his and possessed his mouth as her hands fell to his chest, as she made fast work of the buttons of his tunic. She shoved it open as the last button gave, peeled herself off him and dropped her gaze to his body.

  Shivered as she saw delicious bare flesh rather than his armour.

  She slowly skimmed her hands up the perfection of his stomach, traced gentle lines around his six-pack and trembled as it tensed beneath her questing fingers. He leaned back into the chair, his head tipped back against the blue cushion, the tight cords of his neck tempting her to tease them with her teeth, to nibble and
lick her way from there down to his navel. A hot, achy feeling bloomed inside her as she flattened her palms against the square slabs of his pectorals, as she pressed against them and felt the hardness of them.

  Felt his strength.

  His heart drummed against her palms, hammering a rhythm that matched the pace of her own, singing to her and telling her she wasn’t alone. They were one in this moment.

  Mackenzie raked her short nails over his chest, earning a wicked growl from him. He sat up and seized her again, clutched her backside with one hand and the small of her back with the other, and dragged her against him. He kissed her hard, taking the lead again. She fought him, savoured the tug of war as they battled for dominance.

  He cheated.

  She gasped and rose up on her knees, quivered as his fingers brushed between her thighs again, caressing her bare flesh. He brought his hand around from behind her and pressed his thumb to her most sensitive spot, gently stroked it in a maddening way that had her forgetting kissing him, forgetting everything but the delicious feel of him touching her where she needed him most. She felt the heat of his gaze on her face as her eyes slipped shut, as she gave herself over to him and rocked against his hand, seeking more.

  Needing more.

  A need to touch him too mounted inside her, but she couldn’t move as he stroked her, as he teased her towards the edge before slowing again to pull her back from it, stealing control from her in a way she discovered she loved. She had never enjoyed being at someone’s mercy, had always fought it in the past, but the masterful way he teased her captivated her, rendered her immobile.

  She moaned and her breaths came hard, faster, as he dipped his hand between her thighs, as he groaned and circled her core. That breath hitched as he eased a finger inside her sheath, as she clutched his shoulders to steady herself, or possibly anchor herself. She felt as if she was soaring higher as he pumped her with one finger and then two, his rumbling groans of pleasure sending sparks tripping through her, the thought that he was enjoying touching her only heightening the bliss she felt.

  He withdrew his fingers and she muttered a curse, one that drew a chuckle from him before he kissed her again, pulled her down against him and took her mouth as he had taken her body, demanding she submit to him. She did so willingly, surrendering to his kiss, but only because she wanted him distracted.

  Her fingers nimbly untied his trousers.

  Hartt gasped into her mouth as her palm met the hot, hard steel of him, as she shivered and stroked him, felt him trembling against her too. She wrapped her hand around him and fisted him, released him and feathered her fingers over the blunt tip, smearing moisture into it. An ache filled her, a primal need seizing hold of her and stealing control.

  She needed him inside her.

  He didn’t resist as she grasped his shoulder with one hand, shoved him against the back of the seat and leaned over him. He kissed her again, nipped at her lower lip and sucked it into his mouth. With her other hand, she eased his cock lower. She shuffled forwards, groaned as the head slipped through her folds to tease her and then gently nudged inside.

  Hartt growled, grasped her backside and raised his hips, eased his length inside her inch by inch, stretching and filling her.

  She moaned and sank onto him, shivered as she sat on him, deeply aware of him inside her, a connection stirring in her veins to condense in her chest, filling it with a feeling that felt dangerous but she was too far gone to care about the repercussions of this moment. She needed him, plain and simple. This was about satisfying lust. Nothing more.

  Scratching that itch she had for him.

  She kept telling herself that as she gripped his shoulders and rode him, as he dug his fingers into her bottom and guided her, moving in time with her. His pace quickened, growing fevered, and she lost herself in it, in the way he filled her and withdrew, how he seized command. She gave herself over to the moment, surrendering control to the primal side that rose inside her, that swept through her to have her kissing him hard and scoring his shoulders with her nails as need built inside her.

  He growled and thrust deeper, brought her down harder on his cock with each plunge into her, pushing her to the edge.

  And over it.

  Mackenzie cried into his mouth as the sparks tripping through her with each thrust suddenly gathered into a tight ball inside her and detonated. She moaned and trembled, every inch of her quivering as she tried to keep moving, as Hartt kept plunging into her, riding her climax. She sank against him, kissed him more softly as pleasure rolled through her, as she focused on how deeply they were connected, as she surrendered to him more than bodily.

  He clutched her closer, groaned as he slowed things down, as he gentled his thrusts and kissed her.

  Making things dangerously soft between them.

  Tender.

  She moaned as he raised his hips and filled her with every inch of him, as he held her in place and throbbed inside her, spilling seed that warmed her, had her clenching and unclenching him, wanting it all.

  Hartt sagged beneath her, held her on him as he kissed her, soft sweeps of his lips that roused a warmth in her veins, a lightness that frightened her.

  She was on treacherous ground and it was liable to give beneath her, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull up the wall between them again or push him away.

  She sank into him instead.

  Prayed he would catch her.

  Took the leap and fell.

  Chapter 15

  Hartt was finding it impossible to keep his eyes off Mackenzie’s throat as she sat on the edge of the large oak table in the middle of a library in the vampire’s stronghold. His gaze strayed back to the smooth, pale, unmarked column of her neck, hunger igniting in him for what felt like the millionth time as he stared at it.

  A hunger to be the one to mark that flesh.

  Even when he knew she would never allow it.

  Everything she had told him about her past made that clear to him, but he still couldn’t stop thinking about sinking his fangs into her, still ached to taste her blood and learn if it was as sweet and smoky as its scent.

  Her bright golden eyes drifted to him and he averted his gaze, pinning it on Grave instead.

  The brunet smiled slowly, the amusement glittering in his ice-blue eyes warning Hartt he had noticed the hunger in him—a need that was so like a vampire. Hartt glared at him, daring him to say anything, to attempt to tie their species together through this common trait. He was no vampire.

  He thirsted for Mackenzie’s blood, but only because part of him craved a connection to her again.

  A deep, dangerous part of him where he wasn’t master, where his instincts ran wild and were strong, tempting him to listen to them and surrender the fight. He wanted to bite her, had wanted it from the very moment he had met her. That need had only grown when he had scented her blood, had continued to gain strength as they had fought each other, as they had come to know each other better.

  When she had kissed him, the need had been overwhelming.

  When they had made love, it had been unbearable.

  It had taken all of his will to stop himself from crossing that line with her, and not only because he had the feeling she was deeply protective of her blood, would view it as a violation and would grow to despise him.

  He never took blood from the vein. It was too dangerous, and while he knew what she was now, there was still so much he didn’t know about her. Any one of the abilities in her possession could negate his, and he needed to be at full strength right now, all of his powers at his disposal.

  He had a witch to hunt.

  “Where did you meet with him?” Grave slid a look at Mackenzie.

  One that made Hartt want to growl and claw his eyes out. He checked that need.

  “In London. He sent an email requesting a meeting.” Mackenzie flicked the soft waves of her red hair over her shoulder, drawing his focus to the new clothes she wore.

  A form-fitting black shirt a
nd leather pants that had been delivered by a demoness who had shown up while Hartt had been in his quarters. According to Grave, the female had wanted to stick around and had inquired about Hartt with a look in her eyes that had left the male feeling she had wanted to remove Hartt’s intestines. Hartt wasn’t sure what he had done to anger the demoness.

  “An email?” Grave frowned at her at the same time Hartt did.

  “You were in the mortal world when he contacted you?” Hartt put it out there, because it was the only thing that made sense.

  Although, she hadn’t said how she had contacted the demoness to order a delivery of clothes and makeup.

  Her honey-coloured eyes brightened against the backdrop of reddish-brown she had painted around them again and had streaked towards her temples. Her mask was back in place, but he had the feeling that not all her walls had come back up since they had surrendered to their attraction.

  Mackenzie leaned to her right and fished a phone from her pocket. “Nope. I was here, in Hell. I’m guessing you guys are both behind the times. There’s a witch in the Scottish fae town who hooked up a network in Hell. I can message anyone down here if they have a phone like this, and I can send messages to regular phones in the mortal realm too and receive replies. You all might want to look into getting one.”

  She waggled it in the vampire’s face and then Hartt’s, a wicked smile teasing her red lips. Hartt wanted to frown at her, but his gaze got snagged on her mouth, and his mind blanked. Gods, he wanted to kiss her again.

  Her hand slowly lowered and heat flooded her golden irises, making them glow.

  Grave cleared his throat. She tensed. Hartt tensed too. Looked at the table and then the vampire, and then back at her when she glanced away from him. Crimson stained her cheeks, and her eyes gained a shy edge he found adorable.

  Alluring.

  “Where did you meet him?” Grave said, dragging Hartt’s focus back to him and his mind back on topic.

  “At the guild. He came to visit when Fuery—”