It seemed incredible to her that this man she barely knew--this Breed male who should by rights scare her spitless--could instead feel so familiar, so intimate. But Brock was hardly a stranger to her. He'd been at her side through a nightmare ordeal, then again through the days of her recovery here at the compound. And he'd come after her that night she'd been alone and injured in the city, her unlikely, dark savior.
"Why did you do it?" she asked him quietly, her fingers tracing the dermaglyphs that swirled down around his shoulder and onto his chest.
"Why did you stay with me in Alaska, and then all those days I was in the infirmary?"
He was silent for a moment, his black brows knitted tightly over the fiery glow of his eyes. "I hated seeing what had happened to you. You were an innocent bystander who got caught in the crossfire. You're human. You didn't deserve to be dragged into the middle of our war."
"I'm a big girl. I can handle it," she said, an autopilot response that she didn't truly feel. Especially after the disturbing results of her latest blood work. "What about now ... what we're doing here, I mean. Is this part of your be-nice-to-the-pitiful-human program, too?"
"No. Hell no." His scowl deepened almost to the point of anger. "You think this is about pity? Is that what it felt like to you?" He rasped out a harsh breath, baring the sharp tips of his fangs as he rolled her onto her back and straddled her. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty goddamned hot for you, lady. Any fucking hotter and I'd be ash."
To prove his point, he gave a none-too-subtle thrust of his hips, seating his shaft between the plush, wet folds of her sex. He pumped a couple of times, sliding the rigid length of his cock back and forth within the slick cleft, teasing her with the hard heat of his arousal. He hooked his arm under her leg and brought it up around his shoulder, turning his face against her thigh and giving the tender skin a sharp nip.
"This is pure necessity, not pity," he said, his voice rough and raw as he entered her, long and slow and deep.
Jenna couldn't form a response, even if she tried. The stunning feel of him filling her up, stretching her deeper with each powerful thrust, was so overwhelming it stole her breath. She clung to him with both hands as he caught her mouth in a bold kiss and rocked over her, his body moving in a fierce, demanding tempo.
Already, the crest of another climax was swiftly rising up on her. She couldn't hold it back. It crashed into her, splintering her senses, sharpening them. She felt the rush of her own blood in her veins, felt the furious pound of Brock's pulse, too, drumming beneath her fingertips and in every nerve ending. Her ears filled with the sound of her breathless shout of release, the slick friction of joined bodies writhing against the sheets. The scents of sex and soap and clean sweat on hot skin intoxicated her. The taste of Brock's searing kiss on her lips only made her crave more of him.
She hungered, in a way she couldn't understand.
She hungered for him, so deeply it seemed to wring her out from the inside.
She wanted to taste him. To taste the power of what he was.
Panting in the wake of her release, she drew back from his mouth. He swore something dark and aggressive under his breath, his strokes growing more intense, veins and tendons popping up in his neck and shoulders like thick cables rising under his skin.
Holding on to him, Jenna let her head fall back for a moment, trying to lose herself in the rhythm of their bodies. Trying not to think about the gnawing ache that was festering in the center of her, the confusing yet irresistible impulse that called her gaze back to his strong neck. Back to the engorged veins that pulsed like war drums in her ears.
She pressed her face into the strong column of his neck and ran her tongue along the pulse point she found there. He groaned, a pleasured sound that only served as fuel for the fire still stoked and burning within her. She ventured a little more, closing her teeth over his skin. He snarled a raw curse, and she bit down tighter, feeling the surge of tension that arrowed through his whole body. He was on the edge now, his arms like granite around her, every thrust of his hips growing more intense.
Jenna clamped down harder on the soft skin caught between her teeth.
She bit down until he was frenzied and wild with passion ...
Until she tasted the first sweet drop of his blood against her tongue.
Chapter Fourteen
He didn't know what packed the stronger punch--the tight, wet heat of Jenna's sheath gripping his cock as he roared toward release, or her sudden, wholly unexpected nip at his neck.
Together, the two sensations proved cataclysmic.
Brock caught Jenna around her back and pushed her down beneath him as the knot of mounting pressure coiled tighter, hotter, then exploded.
Fangs bared and throbbing, he threw his head back on a guttural shout as he came, hard and fast and unrelenting, the most intense climax he'd ever known.
And even as it racked him, his release didn't slake his need for her.
Holy hell, not even close. His sex remained rigid inside her, still rampant and thrusting, operating on a will of its own as the earthy, sweet fragrance of Jenna's body mingled with the scent of his own blood.
He reached up to where the sting of her small bite burned. His fingertips came away sticky from the faint rivulet that trickled down onto his chest. "Jesus Christ," he hissed, his voice constricted with surprise and far too much arousal.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, sounding appalled. "I didn't mean to ..."
When he glanced down at Jenna, the amber glow of his transformed eyes played over her pretty face and then her mouth. Her kiss-swollen, gorgeous mouth. His blood was there, too, slick and red on her lips.
Everything Breed in him locked onto that dark, glossy stain, wild need flaring in his gut. All the worse when the tip of her pink tongue darted out to sweep the scarlet traces away.