Kelly Meding - Requiem for the Dead

"I love you," he said. His voice was hoarse, tight.

"Hold still for me." It came out as a whispered request, rather than a command.

"I trust you, Evy."

"I know. But this is about you trusting yourself again."

He made a noise that was as much a plea as it was a warning. I moved to stand toe to toe with him. Our heights were nearly matched, so I could look him right in the nose (eyes would be too much of a direct challenge). His body radiated heat, and a fine sheen of sweat covered his forehead. I leaned in and pressed my left cheek to his, my nose near his ear, and inhaled deeply. Inviting him to do the same. Warm breath puffed against my neck as he accepted.

My hands came up to his shoulders. He tensed with that contact, and my stomach fluttered with nerves. I wasn't good at this seduction stuff; I was going with whatever felt right. Touching him definitely felt right, and the simple sensuousness of it was stoking my own arousal. I trailed my fingers down his arms, tracing muscles and bone and skin, down to his hands, which I lifted and put on my hips.

He did not move on his own.

I flattened my palms over his pecs, allowing my fingers to skate lightly over his nipples, and he growled. It was a human growl, though, and that shot a bolt of pleasure straight through my midsection. The hands on my bare hips squeezed a fraction harder. I took another step closer, obliterating the distance between us. My breasts pressed against his chest. His erection, hot and hard, was trapped against my belly.

"Fuck," he whispered.

I nuzzled his cheek with my nose. "Yes, please."

Fingers tangled in my hair and pulled my head back with a gentle tug, and then his mouth devoured me. Wyatt's kisses were always special, often intense, but this was different. This kiss was a declaration, a claiming, more so than any of the dozens of kisses we'd already shared. I opened for him willingly, wanting him in me in every way possible, and his tongue licked inside my mouth. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders to keep him there, hips moving on their own as the need for friction overwhelmed me.

My lips tingled faintly with a soft brush of otherness that had been there ever since Wyatt's infection. Unlike the full-blooded Lupa, his saliva wasn't dangerous to me or anyone else. His blood, on the other hand, could be, especially if it came into contact with an open wound. My handy healing powers would likely allow me to defeat any sort of infection, but Wyatt wasn't one to take unnecessary chances on things that might cause me pain.

So I wasn't surprised when he had the wits to break the kiss. His eyes were still black, with only a thin ring of silver, but more silver flashed deep within the iris. The wolf wanted out, to dominate, but Wyatt was fighting to stay in charge. "Evy, what about—?"

"I have condoms."

He blinked, and his face melted into something between awe and joy. Then a wicked grin made my knees wobble. "How many?"

"Let's find out."

I pulled, and he helped me walk backward to the mattress on the floor. It wasn't fancy, and it wasn't wine-and-roses, but nothing about our relationship had ever been those things—mythical things written in books about perfection and forever. It had always been real—messy, loving, hurtful, painful, and in the end, worth every hug and tear and moment simply spent holding each other.

Wyatt turned and laid down first, then pulled me on top of him. I laughed as I settled with my knees braced on either side of his hips. I caught him in another tingly kiss. Our hands roamed, relearning familiar swells and valleys and plains, teasing and touching. He relaxed beneath me, his initial fear and hesitation disappearing behind confidence and control. Mouths found intimate places, and he brought me through one orgasm and close to a second before we made good use of those condoms.

All three of them.

I could have stayed on that thin mattress, tangled up with Wyatt's body, for the rest of my afterlife—if it wasn't for the sudden need to pee. The pressure in my bladder pulled me out of a very comforting slumber, and clued me into the fact that the world was waiting for us outside this bank vault.

Damned world. Go away.

"How long have you been planning this?" Wyatt asked in a sleep raspy voice.

I raised my head from its pillow on his chest and met his gaze—all pleased man, with no sign of the wolf. "Couple of days."

"With Gina's help?"

"Mostly. I think sometimes she still feels bad about trying to blow me up."

"I think she's just getting better at making and holding onto friends. She's really good at putting up walls."

I didn't know all of Kismet's losses, but I did know some of them. Her Hunters were her family, and losing Felix had hurt her terribly. Nearly losing Tybalt a few weeks before that to a Halfie bite (his life saved when Milo cut half his arm off to stop the infection). Losing Lucas two years ago, who'd been not just her Hunter but also her lover. The devastation of the Triads, which was an organization she'd helped build in its earliest days. And there was an entire back story I was missing that had to do with her changing her name—something I'd learned thanks to a nosy PI named James Reilly, who was now on our payroll.

"Most of us are good at putting up those walls," I said.

"Just means those of us who love them have to work harder to break them back down."

"Are you talking about me or Gina?"

"Among others." He crooked a finger beneath my chin, and I slid up higher so I could kiss him. A gentle, good-morning kiss that made my angry bladder feel a little less important. I pressed my face into his throat and kissed the faint scars left behind from the Lupa's attack.

"You're remarkable, Evy."

I looked up and quirked an eyebrow at him. "Keep that in mind next time you're pissed at me for doing something stupid and reckless."

"You always act with good intentions, no matter the danger to yourself, and that makes me crazy."

"I know."

"Thank you for this. For being brave enough to get in my face and make me stop treating you like…" He pulled a face.

"Like a victim? Like brittle glass? Like I thought for one minute you'd do anything to intentionally harm me, when all you've ever done is protect me?"

"All of the above?" His smile was sad, but hopeful.

I planted another hard kiss on his mouth, then levered up on my elbows. "You're welcome. And I don't know about you, Truman, but I have to pee really bad."

He laughed long and loud—a truly beautiful sound. "I didn't want to be the first to say something…"

In the bathroom mirror, I studied a faint hickey on my collarbone. My T-shirt would hide it, but I kind of liked knowing it was there. Possession wasn't a concept I ever thought I'd be comfortable with, and on some levels I still wasn't, but I kind of liked having Wyatt's mark on me. In Therian circles, it was a sign of belonging to another, and it would serve to reinforce the fact that we were declared mates.

Even if most humans would point at the hickey and snicker.

At the next sink, Wyatt was washing his face with vigor and a smile that always seemed to be playing with his mouth. More than anything, seeing him smiling so much told me that Operation: Trust Me had been a good idea, as well as a rousing success.

"I think I need a shower," I said to my own reflection. My bath stuff and robe were in a locker in the next room, closer to the dormitory style showers. It wasn't that I particularly wanted to rid myself of Wyatt's scent, but it could be distracting to the other Therians we worked with. And if the position of Elder was challenged—or had been while we were getting busy last night—we'd be working around a whole lot of them very soon.