Page 62 of Between Wrath and Mercy

“I don’t know. I—I guess we’ll go to Ravemont. It won’t make sense to hide anymore.” I glanced down, doing everything I could to not ogle his half-naked body, so close to mine. I narrowed my attention to the pitcher on the counter in front of me. My gaze traced the rim, focusing solely there, ignoring the large hand that gripped the counter next to it.

“Is that what you want? To go to Ravemont?” He asked like I had ever made any choices for myself. As if I hadn’t spent almost half my life making decisions to keep my daughter safe and the other half being ordered to do whatever would benefit my sister.

“I don’t know, Rain.” I sighed, grabbing my glass back out of his hand. “It’s a lot to think about right now.”

“Let’s start simple then. What do you want right now?” I could feel the heat of his skin, radiating warmth around him. I could feel his eyes on me. I wouldn’t look at him—couldn’t. I didn’t want to think about any of this. I didn’t want to think about the creatures that tore into me, in the form of a beast or the form of a man. I didn’t want to think about the past, anything about that night, anything about Lucia. I didn’t want to think about my missing daughter and the lengths we’d have to go to get her back. What I’d do to Faxon the minute I saw him again. I didn’t want to think about what would happen after. What all of this meant to me and my life was all too much to think about. I didn’t want to think about any of it. I didn’t want to thinkat all.

I took a chance and peered up at him. He watched me, but my gaze was drawn downwards, toward his chest then to his waist, then moved to where the deep V-shape of his muscles disappeared beneath his waistband.

“A distraction.” My eyes flew up to his mouth, studying the perfect fullness and softness. His lips gently parted at my words, and I saw his eyes rove over me, pausing on my breasts and again on my hips. I realized my wet hair was probably making my nightgown sheer in the places it rested.

“Just a distraction?” His voice was low, predatory.

“Yes, just a—a moment to refresh our memory.” I stammered, feeling my face reddening.

I stopped breathing as he moved, taking the glass out of my hand and putting it on the table. He leaned in slowly, lowering his mouth to my neck, and he spoke so softly his words tickled my skin, sending goosebumps racing across my flesh.

“You think I could ever forget?”

My breath hitched, and it took me a moment to recover.

“That’s all it can be. If it’s not enough, then you need to stop.” My voice was husky, almost unrecognizable. I was surprised I didn’t stutter as I tried to convince myself all I wanted was a single moment. My stomach tightened as he chuckled against me and the light nip of his teeth against my neck sent a shock through my body.

“I’ve spent too much time imagining you like this. I’ll take what you give me, Em.”

His mouth pressed against where he’d nipped me, and I let out a small gasp. I couldn’t move as his lips roamed, and he pressed the faintest hint of a kiss on the corner of my mouth before pulling away. I was frozen, leaning against the table, my hands gripping the edge. It began to hit me then. I’d never thought I’d see him again, absolve him for his part in it. His lips on my skin had haunted me as much as everything else. The smartest thing to do would be to step away, to stop our inevitable parting from destroying me. But I didn’t want to. When he gripped my hips with his warm, steady hands, I thought maybe I could forgive him. Forgive us for the mistakes we made when our hearts were sore and young. He was here in front of me, offering the urgent passion I’d always wanted, and I didn’t think I was strong enough to say no.

Maybe it was madness underneath my skin, or maybe it was fire, but warmth spread through my body. I reached my arms up, raking my hands through his short hair, pulling him away from my neck, and he stepped back a bit, straightening. In the candlelight, his eyes were dark as they searched mine, hesitance crossing his features. I stood there and let my eyes roam while I inhaled the smells of earth and rain which had always belonged to him. I vaguely wondered if he brought his own soap. I perused the muscles of his chest, marked with a smattering of soft curls leading down to his stomach, muscles tense—waiting. Without thinking, I reached my hand out to touch him, fingertips dragging across his abdomen, his skin pebbling as he exhaled a shuddering breath. He was as nervous as I was. Searching for the spot I’d marked him, my fingers grazed the sensitive flesh on his ribs, and he softly hissed as I touched him. I dragged my eyes back up to his, questioning.

“Here.” His voice was gruff as he pulled my hand farther to his side, knowing what I was searching for. He placed my fingers on the distinct slice of skin I’d left behind, and in that moment, I simultaneously regretted hurting him while being grateful I’d left my mark. Pleased there had been a spot on his body that belonged to me, had been mine, all these years.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my fingers still tracing the smooth skin, a slash of lighter pink against the darker brown. One of his hands went to my hip and pulled me toward him, possessive and rough compared to his other, which he used to hold my chin, lifting it to meet his eyes.

“Don’t.” I wasn’t sure who moved first, but in an instant, our lips met, and everything changed. His kiss was softer than I’d imagined, gentle yet insistent, and his lips were smooth and warm as they caressed my own. I was brought back to our first kiss in the meadow. He’d left me breathless, and I’d had an ache in my heart after that I didn’t quite understand. The ache of a kiss containing promises made and the highest of hopes. An ache which echoed deep inside my chest even now, only having grown and matured with time. Every one of my nerve endings trembled and burned, heat spreading from where his lips met mine. Gods, how had I ever thought that creature in the woods was him? Rainier was life and need and so enmeshed in who I was there was no mistaking him. Leaving one hand tracing his ribs, I gently lifted the other to his cheek, his stubble rough under my touch, following the outline of his jaw and down to grip his neck. He pulled me closer to him, both hands digging into me, spreading over the round curve of my backside. I opened for him, his tongue sweeping in over mine, tasting of the faintest hint of wine from dinner, and I pressed my body against his, my round curves meeting each sharp edge. I felt his length, already hard against my stomach, and I let out a soft moan of approval. The sound must have snapped something in Rainier because, in one swift motion, he pulled a chair out from under the table and sat, a hand tugging on my nightgown, pulling me toward him.

“Come here.” His voice was a gruff demand, a need. An order I gladly obeyed.

I barely took a step before he reached out, grabbing me at the waist and settling me in his lap, a leg on either side of him and his hands on my hips. I was more than aware of my nightgown bunching up; the only thing separating our bodies was the thin fabric of his pants. His hands slid down, digging into me, gripping my ass tightly. Putting one hand on his chest, I used the other to grip his hair, pulling his head back to present his mouth to me. His lips lifted in a smile as he gazed up at me with hooded eyes, a heady desire glimmering within.

“Do you still hate me, Emmeline?” His voice was breathless as his hands slid up to my waist, waiting for my answer with a hungry look in his eyes.

I didn’t know how to reply. The road we were going down was a path to tragedy from every direction. Part of me hated him for doing this to me again. For making me want to give him a part of me, with no plans for a future. He had even said he didn’t want to want me, and yet here I was, wanting him back. I couldn’t say I felt differently than him either. This was a sure and steady path to madness. A swan dive off a cliff, which only promised a watery death below. But it was thoughtless, a sweet obscurity over the worries and fears that consumed me. His lips and his hands released their hold, and I wouldn’t trade the weightlessness for anything. But I still wasn’t sure about any of it.

“I don’t know.”

“Kiss me, then. Don’t stop until you decide.”

I moved, lips crashing into his, a mess of tongues and teeth. Our mouths were open, his tongue caressing mine, his taste a promise of sweet destruction. He put one hand on my lower back, pulling me closer. With his other, he lifted my nightgown and slid his calloused hand up my skin, still slightly damp from my bath. He was slow and methodical, tracing each rib. I let out a small breath as he reached the swell under my breast, and his hand moved higher, lightly drawing slow, indolent circles across my pebbled flesh as he teased me.

My breasts felt tight, body flushed and tender as his fingers stroked my skin. He took his time. He’d never touched me like this before, our brief moment in the cavern the only time we’d done more than kiss, but something told me it wouldn’t have been like this. This was sin and insanity and freedom wrapped into one. Every touch, every caress, was an erasure of the past which corrupted and destroyed. Finally, he stopped teasing, his thumb gently rubbing my peaked nipple.

I let out a small gasp, and I could feel his smile on my lips. I pushed into his palm, rolling my hips and feeling the thick length of him underneath me. The seam on his pants was sweet torture, and I wanted more. Feeling him, remembering him, a part of me was worried about pain. It had been so long, surely it would hurt. He’d been careful and patient back then, taking his time to check on me, watching me so carefully and sweetly it made me emotional, even now.

Those thoughts left my mind the second he rolled the tight bud of my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and I let out a groan into his mouth as the pleasure from it bordered on pain. I felt slick between my legs and shamelessly rolled my hips on him again, torturing myself, not caring if I made a mess in his lap, realizing how badly I wanted that sweet pain. Suddenly, he released me, hand sliding back down to my hip as he ignored my cry of protest.

“Was that distracting enough, Em?” His eyes searched mine, looking perhaps for hesitation or something else.

“Very.” I didn’t know if he wanted me to say no, that it wasn’t enough, that I needed more, but I considered it. Feeling how hard he was beneath me, I wanted nothing more than to continue. But if he thought we should stop, I wouldn’t push. I’d spent our entire time apart under the impression he hadn’t felt as strongly as I did. I’d only just found out he hadn’t regretted us, and I didn’t want him to start now.

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