“No?” he asked, his muscles so tense it felt as if they would snap.
Why did you stop?
Her response made his penis jump. Sliding one finger into her in a slow, relentless push that made her moan, he pressed his thumb against her clitoris at the same time. “Like this?”
Hips moving against him, she scored his back with her nails. He fisted his free hand against the bed at the silent answer and moved his finger in and out of her while caressing her clitoris in a ragged motion that echoed his harsh breathing.
Zaira didn’t seem to mind, her body squeezing tight around his finger less than half a minute later. Biting down on the back of her own fist to muffle her scream, she melted around him. He was at once deeply, unashamedly proud of giving her such extreme pleasure, and on the verge of breaking.
Withdrawing his finger from her body as he called on every ounce of his Arrow training to hold on to his splintered control, he cupped her damp heat and sought her mouth for a kiss. She opened for him, her hands tight in his hair as she claimed him in return.
Licking her tongue over his before she broke the kiss, she raised her eyelashes. “Now,” she said, and shifted her body so that his penis nudged at her wet heat.
Aden’s brain short-circuited.
• • •
ZAIRA could feel Aden’s ragged control in the painful tension of his muscles, but he still found the willpower to say, “You’re certain?” His voice was hoarse, the hand he’d placed once more on the side of her face tender.
Her body spasmed on emptiness even as her heart, that battered, twisted organ, ached. “Yes.”
He didn’t ask again, just gripped her under the hip with one strong hand and pushed the tip of his erection into her passion-swollen entrance.
“Aden.”
Sliding his other hand under her neck to hold it gently but with unmistakable possessiveness, he said, “This’ll hurt.”
Kissing him again in answer, she spoke to him mind to mind. I choose this pain, she said. I choose you.
Zaira. Her name held so much passion, so much emotion she almost couldn’t bear it.
Except it filled her up to overflowing . . . and then Aden filled her. It was slow and hard and deep and it took her breath away. A tear rolled down her face and it had nothing to do with pain, everything to do with the emotions that clawed her heart. Wrapping her arms around Aden’s neck, she pressed her cheek to his.
Zaira, are you—
Don’t stop, she whispered. Don’t stop.
Stroking his hand over her thigh, he pulled back, then pushed in again, even slower this time. It felt . . . Zaira’s body arched, her mind splintered. But she wasn’t lost. Aden was there around her, with her.
It’s always been you.
His voice, his words penetrated the cascade of sensation taking her over and it was too much. Too beautiful. Too precious. Too wonderful. Skin threatening to burst, she held on to him as tight as she could and she hoped she had the will to fight the rage and the broken need that lived in her, with or without the madness.
For him, she’d fight. For Aden. Always, for Aden.
Chapter 50
BEATRICE LAY CURLED up in bed, her body hurting from the beating Blake had given her as punishment for her failure. She hadn’t been able to use the knife on the target, had thrown up instead; she deserved the penalty he’d meted out.
“You are a pathetic excuse for an Arrow.” He’d spit on her after the beating. “I’m not sure you deserve a second chance, but I’ll give it to you in two days. Be ready to do what needs to be done or you’ll be demoted back to a worthless piece of trash no one sees, much less considers for a partnership.”
She’d promised him she’d be ready, but her body shook at the idea of carving a living being with a blade. She’d been taught how to in classes under Ming LeBon, been shown exactly how much pain and damage a body and mind could bear before it broke, but it was easier when practicing on corpses.
Real people bled. Real people cried and screamed.
Slapping her hands over her ears, she rocked, knowing she had to get this under control or she’d lose the only person who cared anything about her, the only person who would miss her if she was gone. “I can do it,” she whispered. “I can do it. I can make him proud.”
Chapter 51
MIANE LEVÈQUE ARRIVED in Venice at ten p.m. the same day. She came to the compound dressed in a sleek red dress paired with black heels, her hair in a flawless twist at the back of her head and her face made up with artful precision. Her lips were a bold red that echoed her dress.
It is as much armor as our clothing, Zaira telepathed to Aden when they met the BlackSea contingent of three in the courtyard surrounded by the weathered and vine-covered dual-level buildings of the compound.
Yes, Aden responded.
The two of them had caught five hours of sleep when scouts alerted them to the presence of the BlackSea team in a Venice hotel. The water-based changelings had made their presence obvious only after they got into Venice without setting off a single alarm, even though the squad had been watching out for them. Zaira was certain the show of stealth had been a deliberate display that warned the squad to take them seriously.
“Jim Savua’s body is in a refrigerated lab space within,” Aden said, taking the lead.
“Olivia?” Miane asked, holding Aden’s gaze with an unblinking black stare that made the tiny hairs on Zaira’s arms rise; she had the distinct sense that while the BlackSea alpha appeared human right then, she wasn’t, not fully.
“Olivia Coletti is in detox.” Aden didn’t look away from that unnerving gaze. “She’s said her daughter’s name but nothing else.”