“Yes, that’s what I want,” she heard herself whisper.
Sharp teeth nipped at her shoulder, traced a pleasure–pain path along the nape of her neck, and ended at the other shoulder.
“Tell me,” he urged. “Tell me what you want.”
“I…” She could barely think of the words, much less speak them. “I want you to … fuck me … like … this.” They tumbled free, her mouth watering at the thought.
The hand that toyed with her anus retreated, as did the one drowning in her wetness, but he didn’t leave her. Oh no. When she was just about to panic that he was gone again, she felt his palm at the base of her back, pressing her forward. Kalina gasped as her hands gripped the windowsill, the warm breeze still blowing over their naked bodies, the stillness of the night still her only view.
Strong hands parted her cheeks, and she whimpered at the feel of his heavy erection pressing closer. When the thick head of his dick brushed over her center, she bit her bottom lip. He pressed forward, slowly, and she wanted to scream. It wasn’t going to fit. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel and her heart hammered at the discovery. Tears of disappointment stung her eyes.
“It’s for you, baby. Don’t worry, it’s all for you.”
It was too much for her, that’s what she thought. It, him, this moment—it was overwhelming and yet inevitable.
She was worried but she didn’t speak, just let the breeze soothe her as he slipped more of himself inside her. The stretching should have been brutally painful, but instead it was pleasingly tight, pushing her to acceptance of what was more than just physical. She was opening, taking him in, taking in everything that was around her. The sultry breeze, the scent of rain and fresh air, the nothingness that seemed euphoric: It was all rippling around her even as his dick sank in to the hilt.
He began to move, slow, steady thrusts that milked her essence until it trickled down her inner thighs. Pumping her bottom back against his ministrations was as natural as breathing. Feeling his hands holding her hips, guiding the depth of his thrusts anchored her somehow, kept her from soaring into the unknown.
“I told you it was for you.” He moaned behind her, his pace increasing. “All for you.”
Sweat poured from her body as his thrusts came quicker, went deeper. She was crying out now—his name, she thought, but she wasn’t entirely sure. The sound of her voice was untamed and wild to her own ears.
“Yes! Fuck! Come for me, baby. Come so hard you can’t stand any more. Come, damn you!”
His voice was a guttural growl, one she matched with a keening howl of her own as her release rushed through her like a raging waterfall.
It was a demand, not a request. Her thighs quivered in response to the sound of his voice—so familiar, so in tune with her. This felt like deja vu, like this man had loved her this way before. Her entire body trembled at the thought. Maybe it was all for her. Maybe …
“Kalina! Kalina!” he repeated as he pumped into her fiercely, his thighs slapping against her moistened cheeks. His fingers dug deep into her skin, keeping her still while he pounded into her. Her release made her even slicker and his dick moved through that slickness like a professional violinist playing the symphony of its life. When he roared she should have been afraid, yet she was satisfied in a way she’d never thought existed. Every feminine part of her opened, bloomed like a flower at the sound of his pleasure, and as he emptied his seed into her she knew, without any doubt, she knew.
“You are for me, Kalina. Only for me,” he said, his voice rough against her ear as he bent forward over her, his erection still lodged inside her. “Only for me.”
Only for me. Only for me.
It’s for you, baby. All for you.
You are for me.
The words echoed in her head, dancing about as if begging her to memorize them, to make them mean something for all time. And as she awoke they stayed in her mind, playing and replaying.
Rome woke with sweat pouring from his body, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.
Pushing the covers from around his legs, he got out of bed and walked across the floor of his bedroom, trying valiantly to catch his breath. At the balcony doors he pushed the latch, and the glass accesses swung open. A cool night breeze flushed his damp skin. He inhaled deeply.
The scent filled his mind, seeped into his lungs, creating an acrid taste in the back of his mouth. Blood. Lust. Death.
Leaning forward, he planted both palms on the railing and stood naked on his balcony, closing his eyes to the memory of the dream.
It had begun with her, Kalina. The feel of her rounded backside beneath his palms still had his dick hard. She’d been so wet, so sweet, so open for him. They’d connected, linked, as if they’d always been meant to follow this path. Then he’d heard something in the distance. A scream or a cry. And the scent assailed him.
Blood. Lots of blood. And pain, so much pain he’d wanted to roar with the stinging feeling himself. He’d run, as fast as he could, shifted into jaguar form and run through the streets, searching for them, needing to find them, to stop this from happening. Again.
And he’d failed.
Again.
His chest heaved; he couldn’t seem to inhale enough oxygen. He’d wanted to stop the pain his parents endured, wanted to prevent anyone from ever being murdered in such a vicious and senseless way again. The guilt hung on his shoulders like chains and his knees weakened.
They were still out there. The ones who’d killed his parents and possibly others that were after Kalina. They were killing for no reason but that they could. And Rome despised them, wanted to snap their necks and devour the carcasses the same way they did their victims. He wanted to hate as deeply as they did, to not give a damn about consequences or lives affected after the act.
But he couldn’t.
His fingers gripped the railing until his knuckles felt as if they’d rip the flesh from his hands. His claws extended, pressing into the other side of his palms. Inside, a growl emanated as his cat threatened to surface.
He lifted his head, opened his eyes to the sky with the peach-and-pink color of dawn.
There was no other choice. As much as he wanted to remain diplomatic, he knew that before this was all over he would become what he despised. He’d kill like they expected an animal to do. He would lose his human morals and act as if he were trapped in the forest, hunting like a killer.
He would be their worst nightmare.
Chapter 10
Rome liked dark colors. He always had. That’s why when he’d purchased this house he’d made a point of assisting the interior decorator himself. Of course he let Baxter have some say in his own sleeping quarters and the kitchen, but the rest of the house was Rome’s. And the one thing he’d insisted upon was dark—or as the decorator had called them, warm—colors.
The conference room was on the first level, past the living and dining rooms. It was large enough to fit an eight-foot-long table with black leather-backed chairs. The walls were a deep cranberry color, with ash-gray carpeting. Along the walls were paintings of the rain forest, of his home. They’d belonged to his parents and he’d put them in here so that he’d feel close to them. Besides, it helped when he was having a meeting such as this one—it reminded them all of where they were from.
Baxter made sure the coffee carafe was full. Pitchers of iced water sat beside it on the presentation tables that lined the walls.
On one side of the table with dour expressions were the guards: Eli, Ezra, and two other guards who lived in the DC area. Sitting opposite them were officers under Rome’s command, four jaguars who also blended into the community with jobs such as schoolteacher, store owner, and doctor. Rome took his seat at the head of the
