Kyra blinked past the tears. “What? You’re leaving me here?” She reached for him as he moved past, heading towards the door. “Xander, wait!”
Her hand brushed his arm, and then she found herself pushed against the wall, his hand fisted beside her head as his lips slanted across hers with a strength she craved. He didn’t touch her anywhere else but her lips, and her whole body felt on fire.
She savoured the anger in his kiss, the pressure of the connection making her feel alive as she slipped her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer. His tongue darted between her lips, fighting for dominance she had no chance of winning.
Kyra felt her moan vibrate between them, her hands exploring the expanse of his chest, the tattoos brightening everywhere she stroked. She needed more, his chi electric against her own even as his body remained rigid above her, his fists leaving cracks in the walls from the control. Liquid heat between her legs, and he hadn’t even touched her yet.
Pressing harder with her nails she stroked down, feeling his abs tense as she moved even lower before she lost the nerve. Xander had pulled jeans on haphazardly after his shift, the zipper down so she easily slipped her hand beneath the denim, wrapping her hand around the hardness of his cock.
“Kyra!” he growled, pulling back just enough he could curse out her name.
She tightened her hold, her thumb brushing across the velvety head. His next growl ended in her mouth, his hands slipping beneath her thighs as he lifted. The sudden movement trapped her hand between them, but she didn’t mind, not when he began to move his hips in her grip.
His fingers stroked up her bare thighs, his thumbs finding the edge of the soaking wet lace. He dropped her, hard enough her knees almost collapsed if not for him being so close before he tugged her hands, forcing both above her head with one of his.
Kyra stilled, fighting the panic at being restrained.
Xander must have felt her tense, his lips softer when he slanted them back over, his tongue teasing as his other hand pressed between her legs. There was no hesitation when he moved aside her lace knickers, his fingers spearing through slick folds with a determined stroke that tore a cry from her throat. When he pressed the pad of his thumb against her throbbing clit she screamed.
He pulled back, his shoulders blocking most of the light, his breathing frantic as she tried to calm her own racing pulse.
“Come back,” she begged, not wanting to be alone. She was always so alone.
His hand tightened on her wrists, and this time she couldn’t stop the flinch.
He let out a strangled moan. “I need to go.”
Anxiety set in when he stepped away, releasing her hands as his fingers slipped from her body. “Wait, don’t go.”
A cushion of air between them, the tension so taut she swore she could see sparks.
“If I stay,” he growled, “I’m going to fuck you up against that wall.”
Kyra blushed, her thighs clenching.
“I’m going to take you until you scream my name, until those nightmares that darken your eyes are replaced with images of me. Until you can think of nothing but my body inside of yours.”
Xander closed the space once more, her breathing quickening as his chest almost touched hers.
“Is that what you really want?” he whispered.
Kyra couldn’t breathe, her body aching. All she had to do was close the minute gap, to take his lips again and lose herself in his body. All she needed to do…
Fear strangled her words.
“Go to sleep, Kyra,” he said, stepping back to open the bedroom door, the wood groaning beneath his grip. “You’re safe here, I’ll make sure of it.” Without waiting for her reply he closed the door behind him, leaving her alone with a single candle to keep her nightmares at bay.
Chapter23
Kyra
Kyra squinted, the sun bouncing off the freshly laid snow. The air was bitter, face burning as she pulled her knees under her chin, wrapping her arms tightly around her legs. The land surrounding the community truly was beautiful, even in the winter when nature was dormant, waiting patiently for spring to bloom. It was surprisingly quiet, peaceful even as the children screeched at the snowball war between them.
It reminded her of where she grew up, in a little secluded cottage by a bubbling brook. It too was quiet, but not as peaceful. Her parents had chosen it specifically so no one could hear her scream, before she had learned not to.
She had cherished her time with the small stream, bathing her feet when she was supposed to be tending the garden of poisonous plants that her father sold on the side. She could hear it too, from the darkness of her room, the water running freely through the rocks and stones of its bed.
That was where she stood as she watched the cottage burn, and for long after until the embers no longer glowed. Her feet frozen, the water washing across her skin.
