The Darkest Edge of Dawn

moody, and the next you’re doing this … shit. Sober up already and stop messing with me.”

I started for the door, concentrating hard on putting one foot in front of the other. Without a shadow of a doubt, Hank had just completely unnerved me.

Door. Just make it to the door.

Somewhere along the way, my jeans became too tight, brushing faintly against a place that did not need any more encouragement.

The door went fuzzy for a second.

“Charlie.” He was right behind me. Why wasn’t I moving forward?

Don’t lean back, don’t lean back.

But I didn’t have to. Hank took one more step, his front pressed against my back, his warm hands sliding down my bare arms to encircle my waist, overwhelming me with his scent, his hard body, his heat. The assault cut through my defenses like a hot knife through soft butter.

My body took over, relaxing against him as his head dipped and his lips brushed my neck. My breath hitched. My stomach went light and airy. Holy God. His tongue flicked out and swirled over my skin as his hand glided slowly over my belly and downward. My eyelids fluttered, and my limbs became instant putty. I succumbed so easily.

With his other hand, he reached across and cupped my chin, turning my face to his. My head fell back against his shoulder. His hand delved into my hair, thumb grazing my cheek and lips settling against mine without hesitation. Hank completely swamped me. Took control. Did what he wanted, and I didn’t even put up a fight.

The scent of Yrrebé clung to his lips—like newly stripped bark from a pine sapling. His tongue flicked out, warm and soft, trailing idly along the seam of my mouth. My lips parted all on their own. Our breath mingled. I opened to him, letting him in, needing him in. His taste reminded me of Christmastime and roaring fires. His tongue slid against mine in a slow, deep rhythm, making my limbs grow heavy and my body tingle.

Hank kissed like he had all the time in the world, like this moment was the only moment, and he controlled time itself.

I was shaking, wanting more, wanting all of him and feeling ready to combust. All this pent-up need … overwhelming desperation to be touched.

As though he knew exactly what I needed, his hand slid under the waistband of my pants to cup me, applying just enough pressure to make my blood pool and my pulse beat between my legs. As the pressure built, our kiss deepened. I groaned, trying to move against his hand. I felt his lips smile against mine as his hand dipped beneath my underwear.

That first touch made my knees give out and a groan erupt from my throat. His arms tightened around me as he moved his mouth back to my neck, a simultaneous attack on two of my most neglected erogenous zones. He swirled two slick fingers around me, slow and steady, pushing me into a state of absolute abandon.

He bit my earlobe, and then spoke words so low and lyrical, so rich and possessive. The words I didn’t understand, but the effect it had on me was instantaneous.

Oh my God. My heart pistoned so fast.

“Jesus Christ,” I rasped out as my body peaked and then exploded beneath his hand.

His fingers kept moving, kneading every last pulse of the orgasm from my body.

I’d never come that fast in my life.

And then he held me, both of us standing in his apartment, locked together as his heart hammered against my back and his erection pressed against my ass. Five minutes? Ten? I couldn’t tell. Eventually my heart found its normal rhythm and my mind began to clear, but the lingering effects of the endorphin flood racing through my system left me shaken and weak.

It didn’t take long for the realization and total embarrassment to sweep in. I broke from his hold, turned, and stumbled back, my lips achy and swollen, my pulse erratic. I stared wordlessly at him, aware that my face was burning and everything about my reaction had proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was right. And I wasn’t even under the influence of alcohol; I should’ve been the one in control.

And I’d become just another siren groupie.

“Stay, Inanni. Don’t go.” He closed the small distance between us.

What the hell was I doing here, acting like this? Like a cliché? “I … We have work to do. I …”

He hadn’t even needed the full force of his siren voice to push me over the edge. A few words, a kiss, a touch … My teeth ground together, and I tried like hell to force my humiliation down.

My nostrils flared as my chest expanded with the hum of Charbydon power, like a wakening beast, one that, in my current state, I’d have very little command over. My mind went cloudy again, but this time it wasn’t from seduction, it was from the chaos of my emotions and the power they stirred. I blinked hard, trying to climb out of the haze and regain control. I was trembling. My eyes stung.

“You think too much, Charlie.”

The disappointment in his tone struck me as condemnation. A short laugh erupted from my throat as I struggled to keep a lid on my power.

Hank pushed my bangs behind my ear. “Stop touching me,” I croaked, though I didn’t move away.

“You knew this was inevitable from the moment we got into the pool together. Deep down. You knew as I did.”

The first wave of tears filtered across my vision, but I kept them from spilling over. “I can’t deal with this right now …” I went to take a step back, but his hands remained on my shoulders.

I jerked, he held—two strong wills colliding.

It was that tiny, split-second physical war that snapped my control.

It came out of me in a riot of emotion, a bright burst of blue power that shoved Hank back, through the dining room, into the kitchen, slamming him against the huge stainless steel refrigerator. The panel dented, the entire fridge rocking precariously. Shit. I tried to fight my way back to regain control, but it was like swimming upstream in a mud-filled river.

A small, sane part of me knew we were in trouble. I was having a power surge I couldn’t manage, and Hank was buzzed on Yrrebé, still nursing a wealth of frustration and anger over the voice-mod issue, having problems with Zara, and now … this.

Through vision ringed with blue fog, I watched him straighten and swipe his blond hair from his forehead, his expression one of intense focus as his gaze narrowed and his lips thinned, giving him an aquiline visage, a fierce, dark look that made me extremely wary.

“You don’t want to fight me, Charlie,” he said, proceeding toward me in a slow, confident, challenging manner. “You want to ride me until you see stars, and that makes you quite angry.”

Yes. Yes, I did.

No, wait. No, I didn’t.

I shook my head hard, knowing he was goading me, knowing he was just as pissed as I was and was using whatever ammo he had. My face burned. The tips of my fingers flamed and buzzed as a line of power raced down both arms from the center of my body. It pooled in my hands and wrists, weighing my limbs down. Easy to fix that, I thought, throwing out my hands and releasing the energy at the stalking form in front of me.

He made a motion as though flicking an annoying insect to the side, and my burst of energy was redirected out the window, blowing the glass and the drapes out above Helios Alley.

It hadn’t even broken his stride, and in three long steps he was in front of me.

My eyes widened. Anger burned across my chest. I reached out and grabbed both of his arms, sending thoughts of cold into my hands and daring him with my expression to deflect that. I felt it working, the same kind of emotion-fueled abandon that had turned Em’s bunny into a small ball, the same kind of inner turmoil that had created the tornado of water in The Bath House.

A glance down told me that it was working. His skin began to harden beneath my grip. Ha! But then it softened and steam rose from his skin.

His hands curled around my elbows, his irises bright like blue flame. “You’re an amateur. A child.”

“Go to hell.”

I kneed him as hard as I could in the groin. How’s a little human power for ya, buddy?