Page 98 of Stalk the Dark
Dammit! I hit him again and again, something dark and satisfied unfurling inside me with eachthwackand grunt. Over and over until the golden veins dimmed and died, until it was just his soft grunts and my heavy breaths of exertion. But soon his grunts turned to moans of pleasure, and the throb between my thighs registered.
What was I doing? I dropped the whip. Done.
His shoulders heaved, and he slowly pulled himself to his feet. I stepped around him so I could see his face. But my gaze was drawn to his torso, bloody but unmarred.
He’d healed. How?
My gaze dropped lower, to the V of his Adonis belt and the bulge of his arousal, thick and long where his pants hugged it.
“You want to help me with that too?” he asked gruffly, no emotion, no inflection.
I licked my lips and forced myself to look him in the eyes. “Go clean up and then we talk.”
He slow-blinked. “Not tonight.” He walked away and locked himself in the washroom.
I waited.
There was no way I was leaving without answers.
He emerged ten minutes later, freshly showered in black boxers and an undershirt.
“Doesn’t it hurt? Your back?”
“I’m used to it.” He crawled onto his bed and lay on his front.
I waited. Long seconds passed, but he didn’t say anything. His breathing evened out. Was he asleep?
Motherfucker, he was.
I should go back to my own room, but the thought of being alone tonight didn’t appeal. I hated to admit it, but I was scared.
The bed was large enough for two, so I climbed up and lay beside him. He didn’t stir, so I rolled to face him and closed my eyes. So many questions, so much to talk about, but I was exhausted, and so was Hemlock, so the questions would have to be atomorrow problem.
I wokeat some point trapped beneath a warm arm, soft snores teasing my ear. I drifted off again and surfaced later as little spoon, Hemlock’s breath warm on my nape. His thick arousal was pressed to my ass.
I contemplated moving, but it was warm and cozy, and I was sleepy.
The next time I woke, the world was a predawn gray, and Hemlock sat in the armchair facing the bed, watching me.
I watched him right back, my breath snagging in my throat at the intensity of his regard.
The chill of the morning registered, acute, without his warm body to stave it off. I swallowed past the undecipherable emotions that tightened my throat. “Are you coming back to bed? I’m cold.”
His eyes flinched, and my breath stalled because what if he said no? What if he told me to leave? And why did it matter so damn much to me?
But he didn’t speak. He unfurled his lithe frame from the chair and padded around the bed.
The mattress dipped behind me, then his body was pressed to mine, spooning me again. I lifted my arm to allow him to slide his over my waist and relaxed against him, closing my eyes once more.
I fell asleep to the steady rhythmic beat of his heart.
Chapter 30
Hemlock was in the washroom when I woke to the midmorning sun, and I knew instinctively that it was time to leave. I slipped out of bed and was at the door when he stepped out the bathroom.
Our gazes locked with the kind of snap that I felt in my soul. He was the first to break eye contact. “Meet me at the carriage in an hour.”
It wasn’t a request, and as much as I hated being told what to do, I made an exception because he’d promised me answers.
