Coreene Callahan: Fury of Desire

Without her.

It wouldn’t be easy. He mourned her already. Losing her would hurt like hell. It would be easier to ignore the truth, but Wick refused to lie to himself. There was no going back. No chance of erasing the last few days. He didn’t want to anyway. Jamison made it impossible to regret meeting her. Instead, he felt grateful. Such a short amount of time, and yet, her impact on him was undeniable. Irrefutable. Incredible too. He hadn’t believed himself capable of loving a female. But fact didn’t allow for fiction. He loved her deep, loved her true, craved her in ways he didn’t understand yet somehow knew to be right.

A bitch of a thing. Especially while faced with the prospect of leaving her.

Fingers stroking through the soft strands of her hair, Wick pressed his mouth to her pulse point. A gentle kiss against her skin. A tough good-bye said in silence. An excellent reminder of what he must do. Taking a fortifying breath, he raised his head and lost his heart all over again.

Fuck, she was pretty.

Lifting his hand from her hair, he traced her eyebrow with his fingertip. She sighed as he drew a gentle circle on her temple, then drifted down over the curve of her cheek. Eyes closed, relaxed in his arms, she accepted his touch, turning her face into his palm. So trusting. Too vulnerable. Beyond beautiful. Unable to resist, he leaned in and brushed his mouth against hers. She hummed in welcome, allowing him to play, one hand caressing his nape while the other moved over his shoulder. Her touch made him needy. Her taste made him kiss her again, long, slow, and sweet. As he tangled his tongue with hers, Wick called himself a fool. Nothing good would come from putting off the discussion. Best to get it over with, instead of prolonging the unavoidable. But as he drew away, she opened her eyes and met his gaze head-on.

Which… shit on a stick… made him kiss her again.

How long it went on, Wick didn’t know. A minute? Ten? He lost track somewhere after the second kiss. Not surprising. Half the time he couldn’t remember his own name around her, but with her hands in his hair and her taste in his mouth? Sad to say, but sensible didn’t stand a chance.

Mustering every ounce of willpower he owned, Wick turned his face away. She grumbled in protest. He cleared his throat. “Jamison, we need to talk.”

“Don’t,” she whispered, touching her fingertip to his bottom lip. “Forget about sending me away. I’m not going anywhere.”

Wick blinked as surprise blindsided him. He hadn’t expected that, but as he met her gaze, he saw the acceptance. Along with a shitload of determination. He frowned, trying to make sense of her reaction. No way should she be…

Jesus. He didn’t understand. “It would be better if you left.”

“For whom?” Both brows arched, she gave him a no-nonsense look. “You or me?”

“You.”

“Not true. I’m exactly where I need to be… right here with you.”

“ Vanzäla, ” he said, despair creeping into his tone. Shifting against her, he brushed a renegade lock of hair away from her temple and shook his head. “I’m trying to do right by you… give you an easy out. A way to—”

“I don’t want one. And if you’re honest with yourself, neither do you.”

“It’s not about what I want. It’s about what you need.”

With a curse, Wick planted his hand on the mat and pushed away from her. He needed some space. A lot of it. No way could he hold the line while touching her. But as he left the cradle of her thighs, she refused to let him go. Giving him a shove, she sat him down, and throwing a leg over, straddled him. Wick twitched. Small hands pressed to his chest, she nestled in, setting her exquisite ass in his lap and… Jesus help him. So much for holding out. He couldn’t help himself. He palmed her waist, reveling in the softness of her skin, temptation urging him to toss aside hesitation and claim her for his own.

He went the honest route instead. “Jesus, Jamison. I’m not built for this shit. I don’t know how to be your mate. I’ll fuck it up. I’ll hurt you without meaning to and ruin everything.”

“Bullshit,” she said, her bad language surprising him. Again. Par for the course, he guessed. At least, for the current conversation, ’cause… wow. Everything she said seemed to shock the hell out of him today. “I don’t accept that. You wanna know why?”

“Tell me,” he murmured, unwilling to shut her down.

A bad decision? Probably. But hope was a bastard with an axe to grind—amping him up, making his heart pound, whispering softly until he dared to believe that maybe… just maybe … Jamison might want him as her mate. A long shot? No contest. It was a Hail Mary pass in a losing game, but regardless of the outcome, he wanted to hear what she had to say.

Leaning in, she set her mouth to the corner of his. A quick brush of her lips. A faster retreat. Hardly a kiss at all, but… shit. It proved effective, grabbing his attention like nothing else could. “Nothing is perfect, Wick. The best things in life don’t come easy. They take commitment and hard work, and you know what else?”

Focus raptor sharp, he stared at her. “What else?”

“Everybody screws up… everybody. ” A furrow between her brows, she trailed her fingers over his collarbone and scanned his face. The worry in her eyes almost did him in. He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted to free her, provide her with opportunity instead of hemming her in. But as she chewed on her bottom lip, Wick lost his way. Right. Wrong. He couldn’t tell one from the other anymore. “I’m a prime example, the poster girl for doing it all wrong. So I want you to listen to me… hear me when I tell you… I’m not looking for perfect. Easy doesn’t interest me, but you do. All I want is to be with you. Just you. No one else.”

Struggling to believe, Wick swallowed hard. “You barely know me.”

“I know you better than you think.” Taking his hand from her waist, she turned his wrist out, revealing the scar on his forearm. He tensed, fisting his hand, trying to pull away, not wanting her to see it. Or ask what it meant. Her grip firmed, holding him still while she traced the brand with her fingertips. “I know where you’ve been. I’ve seen your past.”

“Impossible.” No way. Jesus help him. She couldn’t possibly know.

“God’s honest truth.” Eyes steady on his, her fingertips danced across his puckered skin. Sorrow clogged his throat, making his eyes sting, resurrecting the past while he burned with shame. Cupping his jaw, Jamison shook her head. “Stop it. You have nothing to be ashamed about. What happened to you was done without your consent, neither was it your choice. If I could go back and kill the bastard again for hurting you, I would. Ten times over.”

Fuck him. He couldn’t breathe. Didn’t know how to respond, never mind feel. He never intended to tell her, but somehow, some way, she’d unearthed the truth. “How… I don’t understand.”

“Energy-fuse,” she said. “I feel you… hear you… like a heartbeat. You shared your past without knowing it… through the bond we share… and guess what? I’m still here. It doesn’t scare me and neither do you.”

Her admission laid him bare, cracked him open, leaving him without protection. From the hope. From the need. From the certain knowledge that despite his past, she claimed him for her future. And as the floodgates opened, his throat closed, leaving him unable to do anything other than whisper her name.

“Please, Wick. Don’t shut me out. Don’t send me away. I want you for my own.” Tears in her eyes, she pressed her palm to his chest, right over his heart. “You belong to me, and I love you. Nothing else matters.”