Black and Blue

His hands moved to her breasts, cupping and kneading, causing her nipples to harden into perfect little points. Points he pinched.

“Blue!”

He kissed and licked at the sting he’d caused in her neck, still rubbing . . . rubbing into her ass, unable to stop. Felt so good. His fingers glided down her belly . . . slid under her panties, and played for a moment at her small tuft of hair, before sinking lower.

He almost blew. “So warm and wet, baby.”

“Always that way for you.”

Killing me. “Shouldn’t have told me. May not be able to keep myself off you now.” He circled . . . circled . . . where she needed him most, and as she trembled, she followed him with her hips.

“Do it.” A command she expected to be obeyed. “Please.”

Always begs so prettily. He pressed the heel of his hand against her and thrust a finger in deep.

“Yes!” She groaned, her head falling onto his shoulder. “More.”

As he fed her a second finger, she reached back and wound her arms around him, her nails digging into his ass. She urged him to move against her harder, faster, until he was practically grinding her through the wall.

“Kiss me.” She turned her head and he angled his, their mouths meeting in a scorching tangle of tongues and need, possession and domination.

There was aggression in the kiss. His. Hers. He loved it. It was a claim. A branding. On both their parts. He’d never felt so . . . desired, so necessary, and it was a heady thing. He knew he’d need it again and again.

Would need this honey in his mouth, down his throat, intoxicating him. No one else had ever tasted as sweet, or wine-rich. It was as if she had been made for him, and him alone. A sweet little puzzle piece for his life . . . his bed.

She climaxed with the hard thrust of a third finger, clenching around him, and it wasn’t long before he joined her, emptying his body of the fury and frustration, and filling it back up with unending satisfaction.

And fear.

He wanted her too much, and the craving wasn’t going away. Wasn’t even muting. He was falling for her.

Falling hard.

Fifteen

BLUE AND EVIE CROUCHED in the rafters of the old barn where the auction for ribbons of John’s skin was to be held. They’d been here for almost an hour, still, quiet, waiting, hidden by thick wooden beams and moldy hay.

He held at bay memories of the aftermath of their explosive encounter . . . until the second hour, when they knocked on the door of his mind, demanding entry.

Uncomfortable silence as they’d dressed.

Evie unable to meet his gaze.

A murmured “Well, that was fun, thanks” from her before she strode from the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. She hadn’t claimed him, after all.

Didn’t matter. He’d claimed her.

The time before, he’d felt horror that he’d betrayed Michael, and guilt. That time, he’d felt resolve. He wanted more. And so, more he would have. He couldn’t resist her. Fighting the attraction had done no good.

Now he would go after her. Win her.

Finally, the back doors of the barn creaked, signaling they were being opened. A short, wiry human with thinning hair, a great-white-shark tattoo coming up the collar of his shirt, and a man-baby belly, strutted inside with two armed men at his sides. One had a rifle. The other had a pyre-gun. Both were human.

Behind them, another male carried a small lacquered box with the Chinese symbol for revenge lining each side. There was no sign of Gregory, Tyson, or Tiffany, but Blue didn’t care.

This was happening.

“—gonna go crazy for these,” Shark was saying. He swiped his arm across the items on the nearest table, scattering everything to the ground.

The male placed the box on the surface. He was an Agamen, with huge white horns protruding from his skull. Bona fide ivory towers. Seriously, a colony of fairies could live inside those things.

Hell, maybe they did.

“I’m to remind you that there’s major heat on these,” Horns said.

Shark nodded and rubbed his hands together. “Consider me reminded. Now show me what I’m gonna be selling.”

Horns fiddled with the locks on the box. The lid was flipped open.

Blue saw three golden ribbons resting inside and nearly vomited. The pain John must have suffered . . . must be suffering. He had to swallow back a roar of fury, had to lock his power down tight.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” Horns said with a crooked grin.

“Are you kidding? They’re gorgeous,” Shark exclaimed. “When the Star girl finishes her designs . . . people are gonna go insane.”

Across the expanse of the rafters, Blue met Evie’s gaze. Determination radiated from her.

“They die,” he mouthed. “Hard.”

Gripping two daggers, he dropped from the ceiling and landed on his feet. Evie did the same, and together they surged forward. The men noticed and reached for weapons—but they were too late. Blue threw both of his daggers, one finding a home in Shark’s right eye, the other in his left. Howling with pain, the guy dropped to his knees. Meanwhile, Evie savagely knifed one of the humans across the throat, his skin ripping and blood spraying.

Horns tried to sprint out the door, but Blue caught him with a thread of power—an invisible rope—and dragged him back, kicking and screaming. When Blue reached out, intending to slice through the horns to take them as a memento, the male bucked in an effort to jab him with the poisoned tips.

A swift stab, stab, stab deflated all three of the Agamen’s lungs. Alien anatomy classes came in handy sometimes. The male flopped forward, allowing Blue to break his neck with a vicious jerk.

The last remaining target managed to get his hands on a pyre-gun and fire a shot at Evie. She ducked, the laser soaring just over her shoulder. Blue closed the distance in a blink, grabbing the human’s arm, twisting, breaking the bone, and swiping the gun. He fed the barrel into the man’s mouth and pulled the trigger.

Yellow lights sparked from every orifice the human possessed, and blood quickly followed. He crumbled to the ground.

You think you can take out my woman? Blue spit on the body.

Your woman? Really?

Whatever. He spun, desperate to fight someone else, but the battle was over. He stomped to the table, and Evie tagged along. They peered at the glittering golden ribbons curling so prettily against the velvet.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He nodded to let her know he’d heard.

“We’ll find him.”

Yes, they would. They would never stop searching, never give up. He didn’t care what they had to do or who they had to kill.

“Let’s get the box to Michael,” he said.

* * *