Page 51 of Warrior's Hope


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Pax took a smaller drink of the beer this time. “I’m definitely feeling possessive, but I’m not wrong about Drake. The Kurjans don’t want peace, and he doesn’t understand Hope. He doesn’t understand what she needs.”

Zane placed his beer on the counter. “And you do?”

Pax looked up and met Zane’s gaze squarely, his chest settling and his body finally relaxing. “A hundred percent, I do.” A tension rode the wind and prickled Paxton’s nape. A dreamworld had just been breached. He could feel it, and his entire body stiffened. “I need to go, King. I’ll catch you later.”

Zane watched him, his gaze serious. “All right, Paxton, you do what you need to do. Let’s meet tomorrow for the DNA tests. I’ll get blood from Paelotin tonight.”

Pax didn’t much care how Zane would go about that. “All right, I’ll catch you in the morning.”

Keeping his face stoic, he turned and strode out of the house, noting the pummeling snow. The lazy drifting flakes of earlier had disappeared, and the skies had opened up. Freezing shards of snow joined the wind in a melee that hampered visibility.

He turned and prowled farther down into the cul-de-sac, surrounded by watching trees, their boughs heavy with the white powder. The snow cut into him like barbed sleet, and he ducked his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. As he reached Hope’s house, he could feel the tension heightening.

He could sense the vibrations, and fury ripped through him.

When he turned the knob on the front door, his anger escalated further. She’d left the fuckingdoor unlocked.

Nobody shot at him from the trees, so apparently Zane had given orders for the guards to leave him alone.

Good.

Without calling out, he walked inside and kicked off his boots, heading unerringly for her bedroom, where he stopped, just watching her, his heart turning inside out.

She lay on the far side of the bed, small, curled up beneath the covers, having left a lamp on to softly illuminate the room. It was a pink glass lamp that she had found in an antique store a while back. He’d been one of her guards at the time, though she didn’t know it. She had thought she was out unobserved for a fun day of shopping.

The woman always slept like that, curled on her side at the edge of one side of the bed, almost as if making room for him. When they were younger, she had. Even though the blankets covered her, she was shivering. He moved into the room and shut the door, looking for another blanket. The room felt warm enough to him, but she’d been through a lot lately.

Her thick auburn hair was spread over the pillow, and it moved like silk when she made a small sound of distress. The air was electrified with both power and heat. She shouldn’t be cold.

Irritation cut through him, and he walked around to the other side to sit next to her. “Hope, wake up.” He grabbed her shoulder and gently shook her.

Shedidn’t awaken.

“Now.” He put commandinto his voice.

Her lids slowly opened, and those incredible blue eyes focused on him. For a moment, he could only stare at her, taking in those wide intelligent eyes, that thick auburn hair. His entire body clenched, and he fought the fury pounding through him. “Tell me you were not in a dreamworld meeting Drake.” He’d always felt it when she opened a dreamworld. Somehow. The very air changed around him from calm to menacing. Each.Fucking. Time.

She faltered, and the lazy smile of welcome spreading across her face stopped midway. Her eyes widened as she no doubt caught his mood, and she scrambled to sit up, pulling the blankets to her. Bruises still marred her pale face from fighting the Kurjan soldierthe day before.

“Hope, what were you thinking?” he asked, his voice low and raw.

She blinked once and then twice, coming fully awake. “I wasdoing my job.”

“Meeting with the enemy is not your job.” He was tired of watching her flounder and put herself in danger. He was furious that she wouldn’t listen to him, and he was just about done with acting like anybody other than exactly who he was. “By the way, we most certainly do not share a father.” His fingers closed around her upper arms and pulled her close. He tried to be gentle, but he felt aggressive. His hand curled around the back of her neck. Her eyes widened, and her gaze dropped to his mouth.

So he gave them what they both wantedand kissed her.

Chapter Twenty-One

Fire lit Hope from within. As Paxton kissed her, he was rough and commanding in a way he’d never been before. Throughout their lives, she’d sensed the barely veiled dominance in him but had figured he’d never let himself lose control, especially with her. She figured deep down he knew she would take another path in life because she reallyhad no choice.

He poured flames down her throat, his hands sweeping her arms, branding every inch of her skin. His growl was rough, and the sound rumbled deep inside her, burning right to her sex. He was wild and it was dangerous. She was on fire. Her control fled while his seemed to solidify.

Those flames burned through her good intentions to fulfill her duty. And for a moment, a brief, devastating, wild moment, she let herself just feel the aggressiveness in him and the wild response in her.

Paxton was somebody she couldn’t resist. With just his mouth and the slightest touch of his broad hands, he took control of them both, creating a storm of desire that no woman could resist, much less one who cared about him. Who had peeredinto his soul.

Every nerve ending in her entire body flared awake as if just waiting for the command from Paxton to do so.