The Ravenous Dark, page 15
He touched her with a feverish urgency that wreaked havoc on her heart.
Bailey couldn't catch her breath.
She couldn't think, and she knew there was something important she ought to remember.
Bailey moaned. Ronan's recklessness was contagious. She withered against him, biting his lips, and returning his kiss with the same fervid intensity. He pressed impossibly closer.
"Why can't I get you out of my head?" The coarse question was panted against her lips like an accusation.
She parried with the truth. "Because we're meant to be together."
Ronan groaned and dove for her throat. Teeth, tongue, and lips worked the highly sensitive skin. Bailey clasped the back of his neck to keep his attention on the soft space just below her ear. Her other hand slipped between their bodies until she cupped the bulge digging into her lower abdomen.
Ronan's guttural moan vibrated through her.
"Don't stop," she whispered hoarsely, eyes fluttering open briefly as his teeth raked down her skin. The room was a blur, distorted from the veil of her lashes and sparse light.
"Can't."
His fingers ghosted over her breast to pinch and roll the tightened peak through her clothes. Bailey whimpered under the mindless assault. They were skirting dangerously close to the point of no return, and she couldn't summon the strength to care.
They were lost to each other. The raw need to consume and be consumed by one another's arousal was near insatiable. Bailey fumbled with the fastenings of his buckle and pants, desperate to learn the shape of him unhindered. Ronan took her mouth with his again as her fingers wrapped around him.
He hadn't the length of some of her other lovers, but his girth both surprised and intimidated her. A rumble, almost like a purr, came from Ronan as he devoured her mouth. He thrust into her hand as she explored him in lazy strokes. The hot velvety texture of his member pulsed in her hand as she steered him steadily toward a climax.
"Can't stop," he muttered against her mouth, swallowing each moan and whimper that escaped her. Bailey sucked in a breath as his thigh drove into the space between her thighs, offering a modicum of relief to the building pressure there. She wondered if he could feel the heat of her wetness between the clothes separating them. "Can't… stop."
Bailey tilted her head to the side to gulp in air as Ronan buried his face against her shoulder. The hand she had hooked around his neck slipped to his front. With nimble fingers, she unfastened the buttons of his shirt until her fingers glided along his bare sternum. Ronan moaned incoherently and leaned heavily against her. Surrounded by his heat and scent, her other senses were annihilated.
There was only Ronan.
Her other hand explored his chest. She relished in his skin’s warmth, so blessedly different than the cold bodies stalking the halls at night. A delighted purr rumbled from Bailey as her exploration slowed to catalog the firm plane of muscle.
This is the moment. The thought came into her mind like a whisper from afar, barely heard and gone before she could grasp its origins. Bailey bit her lip. It could be the moment, Bailey thought recklessly, but only if Ronan takes the initiative.
She couldn’t compromise their future like that—wouldn’t.
Then Ronan took a different kind of initiative. His hands trembled as they shot suddenly to the waistband of her pants. They slipped and failed time and again to undo the fastening, each attempt punctuated by low moans and growls. His body stiffened as her stroking and grip increased.
"Bailey," he gasped.
Her thumb coasted over his weeping head, swirling the slick moisture over the hypersensitive tip. His sharp inhalation swiftly transformed into a savage growl. He bit into her shoulder hard. Bailey cried out at the animalistic reaction, her steady exploration, and caresses wavering.
Ronan's oral assault hinged down to her chest. His hands yanked at the flimsy t-shirt she wore underneath her leather jacket, tearing it in two to gain access to her chest.
Bailey whimpered as his kisses washed over the tops of her breasts. A warm hand roughly yanked down her bra to lay siege to a mound. Bailey's eyes widened before fluttering shut.
This can't be real.
But the heat and attention being laved on her breast couldn't be her imagination. Their ragged breath and moans weren't some soundtrack playing around them. It was real and delicious, and all-consuming. Her soul ached to act—to take what was being so readily given. The flames of desire devouring her from the inside out agreed.
Bailey was sorely close to losing all sense of control. A sweat broke out on the back of her neck as she restrained herself, her hand on his chest dangerously near his soulmark. Resisting when it felt as if the very air they breathed was begging them to give in was agony. Bailey didn’t know if she could withstand it all.
And then his hand was upon hers, flattening it decisively over his soulmark as his eyes met hers. His pupils were shot, but the look he pierced her with still managed to sear her with its intensity.
Then his lashes closed. He exhaled in a ragged breath, and his chin dipped in the semblance of a nod—of acceptance. His hand atop hers squeezed.
Time stopped, seeped in lust and longing too great to ignore, and a heady feeling of rightness. Bailey shuddered.
"Let it be known that thee are found," she choked out as Ronan shook against her. "And my soul awakened," she panted as pleasure ricocheted across her body. "The stars incline us, my love, and so we are sealed."
Ronan's hips jerked, and the hot spill of his seed soon coated her hand.
"Ca-ca-can't," he chattered, then roughly pushed Bailey’s hand off his soulmark. Bailey blinked owlishly at the reaction before tentatively stroking his neck with the backs of her knuckles and shushing him. Her body trembled on the precipice of release, but as Ronan sagged against her, the fire running through her veins began to cool.
She bowed her head and rested it against his. Emotions swelled high in Bailey. A flood of thoughts threatened to drown her, yet one prevailed amongst them all; I'll never be alone again.
"Ronan, I—"
His hands on her body tightened. "What have you done?"
Bailey jerked at his tone, smacking her head against the door. The pain didn't register among the horror that laced his words. She swallowed thickly, all too aware of the new friction-making waves between them. His fingers found deeper purchase.
"You knew I didn't want anything to do with our soulmark." Bailey's heart skipped a panicked beat. "And you did it anyway? You thought you could seduce me—"
"What? No!"
Ronan backpedaled, putting several feet between them. He tucked his spent member back into the confines of his pants, fastening his garments with ruthless efficiency. Bailey stared, mouth agape as her heart raced on a mile-a-minute. With haste, she readjusted her bra and pulled the halves of her shirt together. The sticky mess on her hand spoiled the garment further.
"I wasn't trying to seduce you," Bailey said with calmness meant to placate. His answering glare was full of spite and mocking disbelief, and like a whip, indignity razed Bailey. "You're the one who kissed me!” she shouted. “You're the one who said not to stop! You’re the one who put my hand on your soulmark!"
Ronan's face was beet red. "I said that I couldn't stop."
"What does that even mean? You couldn't stop? You could have pulled away at any time, and you didn’t. You’re the one who took things further."
He spun away from her and began to pace. "It wasn’t me. I wasn’t acting like myself,” he argued. “The room’s wards must have messed with our senses.” Bailey snorted as soon as the words left his mouth. Ronan grimaced as if in agreement with her reaction, then froze. “The demons,” he breathed. “It must have been them.”
“The demons?” Bailey parroted back dubiously, and yet a strange chill wormed its way up her spine.
Ronan took back up his pacing. “Yes, yes, it must have been them. They manipulated our emotions—”
“Through the stone wall?”
Again, he stopped; his Adam’s apple bobbing in uncertainty. “We don’t know the full extent of their powers or capabilities. Who’s to say a powerful enough demon couldn’t?” Ronan’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I never would have placed your hand on my soulmark, if I wasn’t under the influence of magic.”
Ouch.
Bailey licked her lips as she looked away, battling back the surge of tears that lined her lash line.
“Do you have any idea what you've done to us, Bailey?"
Her mouth dropped open as she whipped her head back in his direction. Heart sore and on the verge of tears, she spoke with visceral emotion. "I gave us a chance."
"Make no mistake; you've ruined any chance between us."
Stunned, Bailey could only blink back at him. "You don't mean that," she whispered at last, words cracking on broken hope. "You wouldn't have kissed me or said any of what you did if there wasn't some part of you that wanted this—that wanted me."
Taut silence greeted her as Ronan pieced back together his stony façade.
"Like I said, I couldn't stop. My lack of restraint and yours were likely the result of the demons’ manipulation. Nothing more." Bailey wiped at her eyes quickly to dash away the tears threatening to spill over. Her pride was bruised, and she let her temper get the best of her.
"Right." The heavy sarcasm in her voice made Ronan bristle. "I suppose the demons made me give you a hand job, too, huh?"
His lips pressed tightly together as color flared up to his ears. "You were right before. I think it's high time we leave."
"We can't," she argued fiercely, stepping toward him. "We have to figure out how to deal with this, Ronan."
"Not tonight."
She gazed at him in astonishment, steps slowing as she neared. "Whether we like it or not, we're sealed. We can't undo what's been done. We'll have to complete the soulmark or risk going insane. We need to talk—"
"I said not tonight, Bailey! Gods, I can't even bear to look at you right now."
The blood rushed from Bailey's face at his harsh words. When he refused to meet her gaze, her stomach dropped to the floor. "Ronan, I didn’t mean—"
With an aggravated roar, he stormed over to the small table for two and flipped it. Empty glasses crashed against the wall and floor. One of the shelves of liquor buckled and tossed its contents to the ground.
Shock pummeled her at his outburst, and then she was stumbling to the side and out of his way as he spun and strode to the door.
"Ronan, wait!" Her words were lost to the slam of the door on his retreating figure.
Bailey felt hollow as she stared at the door. Like he’d carved out a piece of her and thrown it away without a care. She shuffled numbly to the couch and flopped down, burying her face in her hands.
Could we really have been manipulated like that? She thought despondently. Doubt warred with Ronan’s previous logic. She didn’t know, and it made her sick.
A bright clang interrupted her sorrowful contemplation. Bailey's eyes darted to the cuckoo clock on the wall.
"Shit." Bailey rushed to her feet. She was over an hour late for the run.
Bailey glanced regretfully at the mess Ronan had made. There was no time to clean up, but she did manage to find a pen and slip of paper. She scribbled a hasty 'Sorry' on it and left it on the couch before fleeing.
In her hurry, she failed to notice the unnatural ripple of shadows against the wall or the haunting whisper of laughter that chased after her.
X
Guilt riddled Bailey as she rushed to Fischerwiesen Perchtoldsdorf-Steinbruchsee Nature Reserve to meet Irina and the others. Her mind played their sealing on a continuous loop as she tried and failed to pinpoint when the demon’s infamous manipulations started. Or how it could have made them go so far.
Bailey huffed as she entered the reserve, forging through the web of trees. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the lack of light to traverse the forest floor with grace and speed.
Though guilt weighed in her stomach like a leaded weight, a part of her was elated. They were sealed. Her teeth gnawed at her bottom lip. She'd been prepared for a long, drawn-out chase, but that wasn't the case any longer. She needed a new plan.
First, she would need to convince him that she hadn't been out to seduce him—she hadn't—and then assure him that he wasn't the only one affected by whatever magic had possessed them. Demon or otherwise.
She swallowed thickly.
He said he never would have touched her without some kind of magical persuasion involved, but Bailey never would have sealed them without his verbal consent.
So mutual attraction didn’t drive them to seal the soulmark, she thought grimly; magic had. Ronan was right. If she told him she agreed, then maybe he would be more open to giving them a proper chance.
She paused and closed her eyes, breathing in the night air until her lungs were full. The cool air helped to calm her frazzled nerves and clear her head. When she opened her eyes, a new thought hit her.
She should have apologized.
The situation might have been out of their control, but an apology would have gone a long way to smoothing things over. Bailey grimaced as she marched on. She’d been so swept up in her lust and then helplessly ensnared by her temper that simple decency had evaded her. She groaned.
She didn't know how to make things right.
She couldn't take back the sealing, and now, whether they liked it or not, time was against them. If they didn’t complete the marking and binding in a reasonable time, they’d suffer the consequences. Going insane wasn't exactly a one-size-fits-all experience, but that's exactly what would happen if they ignored the soulmark now.
Bailey hoped desperately that Ronan would stop avoiding her. It would only hurt them both.
Bailey caught sight of flickering lights on the hilltop roughly a quarter of a mile from where she was. She pushed herself into a jog. Then a run. To her relief Irina, Deval, and William were still there when she reached the top.
"I'm here! I'm here!" Bailey wheezed. "Sorry, I'm late."
"What took you so long? We were about to head back and look for you."
Bailey winced at Irina's concern. The hilltop was decked out with a few folding chairs, a table with treats, and a folding screen. Deval and William were seated, each with a glass filled with darkened amber liquid.
"Wilding business, and a small, very minor incident."
Irina's eyes narrowed. Bailey had managed to change her top and wash her hands before coming, but nothing else.
Shit.
Bailey bit her tongue to temper the wince that threatened as realization hit her: she hadn’t cleaned the cut on her stomach. Irina probably no doubt smelled the dried blood. The others too. Bailey bit down harder on her tongue, stifling the groan she longed to issue. She offered Irina a weak grin, hoping desperately she wouldn’t pursue the matter, or the others.
"I see. Well, the important thing is that you're here now. Would you like something to eat before we run? A drink perhaps? I brought beer for you, a Vienna lager and an Augustiner. Which would you prefer?"
Sensing she wouldn't be able to refuse, Bailey offered a quick smile. "The lager is fine."
"Sit," Irina instructed. Bailey did and took one of the two seats left, thanking Irina as she handed her the beer. Bailey immediately downed half. "I hope whatever small and very minor incident you had doesn't lead back to us."
"It won't. I handled it." At least, she hoped so.
Thinking about the demons, she held back a wince. She hadn't encountered them on her way to change or out of the Dark Court, but something in Bailey's gut told her it wasn't the end of her interactions with them.
"If it isn't, I'm more than happy to help you settle things in the fighting pits," Deval offered with an easy grin. Bailey smirked, and a chuckle pushed past her lips. The Indian hybrid was starting to make a name for himself in the pits, starting with his effortless takedown of Hugo de Armas months back when he'd attempted to stab William in the back—literally.
"Thanks, but I'm not a huge fan of the fighting pits." Bailey took a sip of her beer, eyeing Deval conspicuously. "And if I'm being honest, I'm a little surprised to see you become such a frequent contender after what you came from."
Deval's grin lessened.
Bailey knew all about Deval's life before the Dark Court. He was a member of her pack's rivals, the Wselfwulfs, though not by choice. Bailey wasn't sure if any of the Wselfwulfs members were there by choice. She knew she wouldn't have been. The Wselfwulfs ran their pack with an iron fist and archaic rules that saw the weak punished and the strong hold all the power.
It was a miracle Deval survived.
"Either I fight, or I give in to my bloodlust." Deval set down his drink on the forest floor. "I still have thirty more years of craving blood like I'm some kind of maniac before it fades to simply a need rather than a constant want." His copper gaze slanted to Irina. She wasn't much older than Deval in hybrid years. Their respective transitions happened only a few odd months apart. "Sometimes, I worry I'll become a sanguinaire and lose myself completely to my bloodlust."
Irina's sympathetic frown echoed his sentiment, while William's disdainful grunt disagreed.
"The pair of you will be just fine." William waved a hand dismissively in the air then swallowed the rest of his drink. "Sanguinaires are easy enough to spot. They're obsessed with finding their next meal, suffer from paranoia, and are generally easy to aggravate—"
Bailey snorted. "Almost half the court fits that description."
William grinned wolfishly. "Aye, but the biggest tell is this; if you look close enough, most of 'em have a permanent reddish hue to their eyes. I don't mean your average bloodshot eyes either. It's there, in their irises, as if the hunger never leaves them."
Irina's eyebrows shot up. "Really? I've never heard anyone say that before. Jakob said one of the easiest signs to spot was shaking hands or sudden nausea. I didn’t know before, but there's a limit to how much blood one can ingest before becoming ill."
"I wouldn't trust the bit about the shaking hands or nausea with the number of magical supplements in circulation at court. The eyes, those are the biggest giveaway, and not a hint of red stains either of yours." William sent Deval a pointed look. "Wanting to get out your energy in the pits isn't anything to worry about. It's a good outlet."
