Would she have cared? Surprisingly, she didn't think so. He'd given her hope, hated hope, but she was grateful. Or had his demon overtaken her mind again?
Reaching out, he smoothed several strands of hair from her brow. His arm shook. "Rest, angel. Tomorrow we travel, and we will have to move quickly and remain in the shadows."
Because of the Hunters, she silently finished for him. The people she should have been helping. Feeling hollow, she nodded.
"If you change your mind about painting, the supplies are through that door." He pointed.
She sighed, watching as he turned on his booted heels and strode from the room. There was a knife in his hand.
WHEN REYES REACHED the bathroom in the empty bedroom across the hall, he collapsed onto the cold, hard floor. He'd done his best to keep his beast hidden from Danika. He hadn't wanted her to know how close he'd been to ripping off her clothing and stabbing himself over and over again while he pounded into her soft bodyhow close he'd been to begging her to stab him.
He was surprised by the depths of his desire for her. She hadn't hurt him, yet he'd been ready, eager. A first, and too shocking to believe.
He needed to contact Lucien and tell him about the other demons, the other possessed warriors. He needed to find Torin and have the warrior start tracking Danika's mother, sister and possibly her grandmother. But not like this. Reyes was too on edge, the demon too loud inside his head, clamoring for pain. The need hadn't been this wild in weeks, so it had taken him by surprise. How he'd maintained his control, how he'd kept from hurting Danika, he didn't know. Why it had happened, he didn't know, either.
With a shaky hand, he tore at the waist of his pants. His nails were claws and cut the skin, skin on fire and too tight for his bones. He was smiling as his cock jumped free, but there was no relief. He ached, oh, gods, he ached from the pleasure of Danika's scent, her lovely eyes feasting on him, her lips pressing against his.
His fingers wrapped around the thick base of his shaft, so taut his knuckles instantly blanched, and he hissed in a breath. Not my hand, he pretended, but Danika's. Yes, he could easily imagine her soft, sweet hand holding him, squeezing him to this razor edge of pleasure-pain.
Reyes moaned, holding himself all the tighter as he pumped up, then down. With his other hand, he clutched the knife he'd already palmed and pressed the cold tip against his thigh. Do it. Cut. On an upward glide, he sank the blade hard, so hard. The skin broke and blood trickled. On a downward slide, he dug the tip deeper, nicking a vein.
Not enough. Not nearly enough.
There were sharp grooves on the hilt, and those grooves bit at his hand, drawing even more blood. Self-loathing rose inside him as he slicked the knife's apex through muscle, not stopping until he hit the bone.
Why can I not be normal? Why can I not take a beautiful woman with the gentleness she deserves?
He twisted his wrist, digging a hole into his femur. His head fell back and he roared at the exquisite headiness, pleasure zooming from one corner of his body to the other, a drug, a demon all its own.
Just a little more.
Up and down he continued to pump, the path slick because of his blood. His hips writhed as he continued to twist the knife. There was another sharp lance of pain, another sultry wave of pleasure.
What if he had no need for pain? What if Danika were here, sucking him deep into her mouth?
"Yes, yes," he chanted. Her sunshine hair would spill over his legs; perhaps he would see the pink tip of her tongue laving the thick head of his penis. He might feel the light scrape of her teeth every time she descended, taking him to the back of her throat.
Would she like the taste of him?
Maybe she would take him in her mouth while he licked and sucked her. Another moan escaped him. She would be wet, wet for him and him alone. Her taste would be like the ambrosia he blended into his wine.
She would drip with desire. For me, only me.
For us, the demon snapped, raging inside his mind.
Reyes clenched his teeth. For me. Never us. You are the reason I cannot have her.
I didn't open the box, now did I?
Reyes gave the knife yet another twist, and the tip sliced the bone in two, driving straight into another muscle. At the moment of penetration, a climax ripped through him. He roared loud and long, his muscles contracting, hot seed jetting from him and blending with his blood. Both scalded his skin, like battery acid on silk.
Only when the last surge ended did he lose his last bit of strength and sag, completely depleted. His arms fell to his sides, lifeless. He was panting, could taste metal in his mouth. During orgasm, he'd bitten the inside of his cheek.
Can't stay here. Have to clean up before someone finds me. Slowly his eyelids cracked open, golden light seeping into his consciousness. He needed to find Torin andHis thoughts skidded to a sickened halt.
Danika stood in the bathroom's doorway, staring down at him in horror.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DANIKA DIDN'T KNOW HOW to assimilate what she'd just witnessed. That was what Reyes needed to experience pleasure? Before, part of her had thought she could maybe give him what he craved. But he hadn't just cut skin. He'd cut veins, muscle and even bone. There was so much blood, a seemingly never-ending river pooling and congealing around him.
Now he was looking at her through hooded eyes, lips grim, a crimson splatter on his chin. "What are you doing here?" Cold, no emotion.
"I fo-followed you," she managed to get out. "II" She was shaking so badly, and her throat kept trying to close around a surge of bile.
Had other women hurt him like this? Pleasured him like that? The thought disturbed her, but not as it should have. She didn't like the thought of other women meeting his needs. She didn't like the thought of other women doing something to him that she had not doneor perhaps could not do.
Reyes lumbered to his feet, swayed. His thigh gushed. She thought she saw the severed bone underneath the muscle and couldn't glance away. Her gaze was held captive and tracked every drop that spilled. His penis rose proudly, still thick and full, smeared with desire and blood, the heavy weight of his testicles drawn tight underneath.
Even possessed as he was by the demon of Pain, she didn't understand how he could find release in so brutal a deed.
"Look at me," he barked.
"I am." A broken whisper.
"At my face." He jerked up his pants and fastened them.
The action released her from the trancelike state. Gradually she dragged her gaze up his body. His navel was surrounded by the faintest dusting of hairhow had she missed it before?and his stomach was roped with hard lines of muscle, a testament to his inhuman strength.
Her tremors increased the closer she got to his face. A shadow beard dusted his jaw, hardening the angles of his face, making him appear all the more dangerous.
He was scowling at her, his lips peeled back from his teeth. His nostrils flared as he inhaled. "I told you to stay in my room."
His eyes, normally polished onyx, were tinted red. Glowing. Pulsing. She gulped. "I couldn't, I didn't"
"Go!"
"Don't talk to me like that. Got it?"
"Leave. Please." A whisper.
As he stood there, panting, angry, bloody as if he'd just returned from a war, she lost herwhatever it was she'd been feeling. Disgust? Confusion? Shock? I want to paint him like this, she thought. He was a thing of beauty. Dark, a combination of cinnamon and honey, with eyes like an eclipsed suna person didn't know whether to stare, blind to all else, or look quickly away.
What intrigued her most, however, was his tattoo. That butterfly, with its wings spread in midflight, half consuming his chest and neck, seemed to be watching her, beckoning her closer. It had always been ominous and harsh, almost evil, and yet it now appearedgentle. The colored skin was glittering, a mix of ruby, onyx and sapphire. The usually sharp-tipped, forged-of-steel wings were somehow softened.
I've seen this before, she thought. I've painted this before. Hadn't she? There was something unerringly familiar about it, though not enough to jog her mind completely. Maybe it was the fact that she'd seen a few of the other warriors' tattoos. Each man had worn the mark in a different location and each had been a different color. Maddox was branded on his back, Lucien on his chest. Aeron, she thought with a shudder, all over.
Danika found herself reaching out, arm shaking, desperate to feel Reyes's brand, to know the texture and the temperature. Hot and raised? Or cold and smooth?
He jolted backward, slamming into the wall, his arms spread to hold himself up. The sink jostled, the soap slipping and falling to the floor. Thump. "Do not touch me, Danika."
Her cheeks heated with mortification as her hand dropped to her side. "Sorry," she muttered. "I'm sorry." You knew better. He's feral right now, so you have to be careful.
"Don't apologize." Motions clipped, he swiped a towel from beside the sink and bent down. Back and forth he mopped the blood. "I am sorry you witnessed that. Please, justreturn to my room. Please. I will join you shortly." The request was disjointed, proving how rattled he really was.
"I'll help you clean up. I"
"No!"
He shouted so loudly, she cringed. Damn it! Where was her courage? Where was her vow to never back down from another fight?
Immediately after the echo quieted, Reyes stiffened, ceased moving and rushed out, "I am sorry. Again. You did nothing wrong, only offered to help. But I always clean up my mess, and I will not allow you to dirty your precious hands."
Precious? Her? There wasn't a drop of sarcasm in his tone, only absolute sincerity.
He pivoted, keeping his back to her as he skidded into motion. "Please, Danika. Go."
He was embarrassed by what he'd done, she realized. He was ashamed. She didn't know what to say to soothe him. Didn't know what to think to soothe herself.
Danika backed out of the bathroom. She didn't look away from Reyes, who was still cleaning, still avoiding her, until her shoulder rammed into the door frame and she had no other choice. When she reached the hallway, she pressed herself against the wall. Tremors racked her.
She wanted to find Ashlyn, discuss this with someone who just might be able to understand, but her friend had left with Maddox and the others early this morning. Ashlyn had conversations to listen to, she'd said, and it had surprised Danika that the ever-protective Maddox had agreed to the journey. Should she go back as Reyes had ordered? Or stay and wait for him? Both appealed to her, but for different reasons. Leaving would give her time to calm down, to think. Staying would provide an opportunity to go with Reyes when he spoke with Torin about her family.
Admit it. You're worried about Reyes. You want to see him again.
She stayed.
Fifteen minutes passed, the sounds of shuffling feet, running water and curses filling her ears. Strangely, impatience kept its distance as her mind rolled and churned like a storm about to break.
She had some major decisions to make.
She was due to contact Stefano later tonight and the tiny cell phone he'd given her was burning a hole in her pocket. What would he do if she failed to call? What did she want him to do? With Reyes seeing to her every need, things werecomplicated.
Oh, she still wanted revenge. If she discovered that Aeron truly had killed her grandmother, she would return to his cell and she would not hesitate to cut off his head. But what if he hadn't killed Grandma Mallory?
Don't you dare give up hope. Reyes's voice whispered through her mind, even though they both knew how evil hope could be.
Could she allow the Hunters to storm into his home, capture the residents, hurt them, lock them away and ultimately slaughter them? Reyes would not be excluded from that. They wanted him, hated him. And she would not be able to warn him because he would warn the otherswhich totally defeated the goal of keeping Reyes intact, the only true decision she'd made.
She'd thought herself in deep. NowWhat should she do? She felt torn between two sides, straddling a fence with no freaking clue as to which way to fall. Something would happen and she'd lean one way. Then something else would happen and she'd lean the other.
"Danika."
At the sound of Reyes's voice, she blinked open her eyelids. When had she closed them? He loomed in front of her, this warrior who so conflicted her. He'd cleaned himself up, had seemingly scrubbed away his emotions as surely as he'd scrubbed away the blood. His expression was blank, and yet her heart fluttered as it always did when he was near.
"You waited," he said.
If that pleased or angered him, she couldn't tell. "Yes," she said, breathing deeply of his fresh pine scent. He wore a black T-shirt and new pants. "I'd like to go with you to speak with Torin."
His head tilted to the side, his gaze boring into her. "You are notscared of me?"
"No." Truth. She was just more confused than ever.
A sigh slipped from him, and beneath the casual resonance was a rushing river of relief. "I find I am once again helpless against you."
As helpless as she was against him? "I don't understand this." Not the connection between them, and not their mutual unwillingness to hurt each other when they were both supposed to do so.
"Neither do I." He held out his hand. "I will take you to see Torin, but you are not to touch him. You are not even to get within reaching distance of him."
"O-kay."
"This is serious. Do you remember the plague that blasted through Buda when you were here?"
She nodded, twining their fingers together. At first contact, warmth speared her.
"One brush of his skin against yours and there will be another one."
REYES LOVED THE FEEL of his fingers intertwined with Danika's. Every time she'd been alone and he'd come upon her, touched her, her skin had been as cold as ice. Seconds after touching her, that ice always melted into him, a deliciously painful prickling.