Beyond Possession (Beyond #5.5) (11 page)

The three of them were sprawled on one blanket, laughing as a sweet little baby with dark eyes and darker curls waved tiny fists in the air, trying to grab at Ace's fingers. Beyond them, two men stood over the grill. Cruz—the one Zan had credited with a steel jaw, who'd taken down three men in a cage fight. And she'd been to enough fights to recognize Bren, the O'Kane who got off on taking a beating as much as he did dishing one out.

His girlfriend, Six, was seated nearby, watching the only man whose name Tatiana couldn't recall as he sketched something on a pad of paper. She was the first to look up as Zan pulled Tatiana through the door, her lips curving up in a welcoming smile. "Finally got tired of punching things?"

"That could change," Zan shot back. "You wanna go?"

Six was tiny compared to Zan. Hell, she was tiny compared to Tatiana. She was short and lean, with the sharp angles of someone who'd spent too many years not eating enough. But her grin was downright feral. "Not in front of your friend. I don't want to wound your ego."

"Someone needs to give yours a poke, fighter girl," Ace said without taking his eyes from the baby. "Winning that last fight's got you all cocky."

"Don't listen to him, Six," Rachel advised. "It's not cocky if you can back it up." She shaded her eyes and looked over. "Hi."

Tatiana shook off her surprise and struggled for a smile. "Hey, Rachel."

Zan urged her forward with a hand at the small of her back. "You want something to drink?"

The idea of fuzzing her nerves and the stress of the day with liquor was too appealing to be a safe idea. She hesitated, and Ace spoke again before she could. "You should try the beer. Rachel broke out the good stuff tonight."

Just a little fuzz. Perfect. "Beer would be nice, thanks."

Cruz bent to pull one from a bucket, giving it a shake that splattered ice water on the roof. "Zan?"

"I'm good, thanks." He took the beer, opened it easily, and handed it to Tatiana. "What's on the grill?"

"Venison." Cruz grinned. "Apparently Hawk knows all the best hunting spots. He'll be useful to have around."

"Zan." Trix raised both eyebrows and tilted her head toward an empty chair near the blanket.

He cleared his throat. "Right." He guided Tatiana over and gestured awkwardly to it.

Rachel hid a smile.

Tatiana's heart gave a funny little twist as she sank into the chair. Zan was as nervous as she was, and these people—his
family
—didn't give a shit who she was or who her father was. They just wanted him to be happy.

God, she felt a million years old. Dirty and cynical and bruised...and still somehow as awkwardly nervous as Zan, because this was all new to her. Family. Happiness.

Ace stepped into the silence by rolling upright and sweeping the cooing baby up into his arms. "Princess Stone, meet Princess Hana. Her mama and papa haven't slept or spent more than twenty seconds alone in about three months, so Rachel and I revolted and declared we were babysitting tonight."

It was so far beyond Tatiana's experience she couldn't quite wrap her brain around it. Not even her father had trusted most of his men in the same room as his children, and he hadn't been
that
fond of them. But a five-year-old with a gun shoved between her teeth made tempting leverage, and that was the one thing his men were always eager for. Any scrap of power.

Six sprawled into the chair next to her and patted her arm. "It gets easier," she said in a voice that held too much sympathy. "I thought they were crazy for months."

"I still think they're crazy," the man with the sketchpad rumbled before winking at Trix. "But I like our brand of crazy."

Zan laughed. "You might want to come up with something better than
like
, Finn."

"He did," Six retorted. "
Our
."

Tatiana dropped her gaze to the girl's thin wrists. She had ink around them, the O'Kane skull with an intricate border of chain links. Trix and Rachel had them, too. Symbols could be powerful. They could reflect power, enhance it. But without Dallas O'Kane's grip on the sector, those cuffs would be nothing more than pretty drawings.

Her way had always felt safer. If the power shifted again, she'd survive, well-equipped to continue living her tiny, desperate little life. And while Tatiana scraped and struggled to survive in the cracks between dueling loyalties, the O'Kanes were grilling venison and playing with babies.

"Our." Rachel rolled over onto her back, closing her eyes against the waning sunlight. "
Our
is good."

Maybe it was, after all. Forty more years of barely scraping by didn't seem so appealing when this was the alternative.

Tatiana peeked up at Zan. He was watching her intently, as if he was waiting for some sort of sign.

The way I see it, your potential allegiance is directly tied to whether you believe in what we're doing.

Lex's words had too many layers. Who wouldn't want to believe in this ideal? Family and friendship and the safety that didn't come with numbers, but the fact that those who had your back would never, ever sink a knife in it. But to believe it could exist, that it could
last
...

Her heart pounding too hard, Tatiana reached for Zan's hand. He folded his fingers around hers with a smile, tucked their joined hands into the hollow of her neck, and said something else to Ace, something that elicited a gentle wave of laughter.

She wanted to believe. Maybe Zan could show her how.

For some reason, inviting Tatiana into his room felt like another test, another bit of proof he had to give her before some of the tension would ease out of her shoulders. Before she would let down her guard.

He passed by the light switch and flicked on a lamp by his bed instead. "This is it. My place."

She stood just inside, leaning up against the closed door. Her gaze slid from one side to the other, taking in the small table and couch along one wall. "It's nice." She glanced at the bed, her lips quirking up. "It's big."

The room or the bed—he didn't even have to ask. "I'm not a small guy."

"I know." She still didn't move away from the door, but he could see the color creeping down her neck. "It's not like I imagined."

"No?" He sat down on the end of the bed and started pulling off his boots. "What did you picture?"

She kicked off her borrowed shoes and pushed away from the door. "I don't know. I think most of us assume that O'Kanes decorate their walls with whips and chains."

"Don't let Ace hear you call them decorations." He tossed aside both of his boots. She looked nervous, but that was okay. So was he. "Come sit down."

She hesitated for a moment in front of him before hoisting her skirt and sliding onto his lap. She fit like this, her hips against his, her body soft and sweet as she relaxed against his chest and curled her arms around his neck. "I've been thinking about something you said."

"I say a lot of shit," he admitted. "Only half of it is worth a damn."

"This was. It was the night we fucked." She dropped her forehead to his, her lips so close he could taste her words. "You said it didn't have to be that hard."

His body tightened, but he left his hands on the bed. If he moved too fast, pushed her too much... "Was I on to something?"

"Maybe Gia was my fault," she whispered. "It didn't have to be that hard. But I was afraid to be honest because I didn't think I could make it on my own. It's different now."

It hurt, to think of her blaming herself for something like that. "Sometimes, things don't work. It doesn't have to be anyone's fault."

"I still need to be honest this time. Some things—maybe I'm making assumptions again. But maybe..." She pulled back to meet his eyes. "If I'm yours, I'm
yours
. Behind closed doors, just the two of us. Is that enough?"

Maybe she was thinking about more O'Kane rumors, and maybe she was thinking about things that were true—the way Noelle loved having Jasper dominate her in front of other people. The way Lex wore Dallas's name across her skin.

He let himself go enough to lay his hands on Tatiana's hips. "The public stuff—it isn't my thing. I don't need that."

"What do you need?"

A thousand things, but nothing as much or as hard as this. "Someone who gets me. Who doesn't want me to be anything or anyone else. What do I
want
?" He drew her closer. "I want it to be you."

"I want it to be me, too." She traced a finger along his brow. "You're like the rest of this place. Too good to be true. But I want to believe."

Trix's clothes didn't look right on her. Oh, they fit—like a fucking glove,
too
well in some places—but they weren't her. The flowing skirts and vests suited her far better.

It didn't stop him from letting his gaze linger over her curves. "I think we should take this off."

She laughed. Warm, husky laughter that tickled up his spine. "Do you want my help or my permission?"

He slapped her hip lightly, urging her off his lap. "I want you to do it."

Something dangerous flashed through her gaze. Something hungry. She skimmed her nails over his shoulders and along his arms as she slipped away. The corset was held together by steel hooks, and they clicked quietly as she undid them. "What do you
need
, Zan?"

What he needed was simple—and not at all the filthy invitation she no doubt wanted to hear. "I need...to stop asking. It's all I've done. Ask and beg and lure and seduce, and it hasn't worked. Because you're still not sure about me."

"Maybe you need to
start
asking." She stripped away the corset, and the shirt beneath was so thin, he could see the contours of her body through it. "You offer, and you give, and you promise, and sometimes I want you to be as selfish and needy as I am."

What she described wasn't asking, not at all. And maybe that was the key. If he was too gentle, too careful, then she could barely trust herself not to destroy him. But if he demanded...

If he
took
.

He braced his hands on the edge of the mattress. "You're not naked yet," he rumbled. "Fix it. Now."

She sucked in a ragged breath and stripped the shirt over her head. The zipper on the skirt stuck, and she jerked at it so hard he knew he'd be paying Trix for a replacement. But that seemed worth it when Tatiana shoved both skirt and panties down over her hips.

She stepped free of the tangle of fabric and stood staring at him, flushed and breathing fast and—for the first time—completely naked. For him.

Behind closed doors, she'd said. A thrill of heat whispered through him, tightening his balls. "On your knees, sweetheart."

No hesitation. She sank to her knees without looking away from him, but the look in her eyes wasn't sweet obedience. It was hot, hungry challenge.

That, he could handle. "Come to me."

She wasn't that far away, but her lips still pursed as she eyed the distance. Her gaze returned to his as she leaned forward to brace her hands on the floor.

She stalked toward him, her ass in the air, and he clenched his hands in the covers. "Faster, Tatiana. You're making me wait."

Smiling, she stretched her arms out and arched her back. "Do you need something?"

The only way to keep from reaching for her was to reach for his belt instead. "I'm not making requests anymore, remember? This time, I'm demanding." The buckle clicked free. "
Come to me
."

Her gaze focused on his hands. On the belt. She wet her lips as he pulled the leather free of the clasp, and moved faster.

He wouldn't reach for her. He couldn't, because this had to happen. It had to be her choice.

When she knelt in front of him, Zan wound his fingers through her hair, stroking her scalp gently for a moment before clenching his hand. "Suck my dick."

Her breath caught, but she still didn't hesitate. Just finished opening his pants, and then her fingers were on him—warm, strong fingers. She stroked his shaft and traced her thumb over the head before glancing up at him.

"I've never done it before," she whispered. "Tell me if I'm doing it wrong."

"I don't think that'll be a problem, sweetheart."

She smiled and pressed those curved lips to his crown. A too-gentle kiss, until she did it again, and a third time. Her lips parted, and she licked. Quick, and then longer, her eyes locked on his as she dragged her tongue up his shaft and closed her mouth over him.

His body moved without permission—hips arching up to her mouth, his hand urging her head lower—as pleasure rushed over him. The room swam out of focus, but Tatiana was sharp. Her dark eyes burned with lust as she took him deep, so eager she kept trying to take more even when she choked.

He hauled her head up, but only to rub his thumb over her lower lip before pushing her back down. "Again."

She moaned. Sucked. Strained against his grip on her hair, so flatteringly desperate. When he pulled her up again, she panted, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. "Like that?"

"Slower," he rasped, knowing the low timbre of his voice would please her as much as the stern direction. "Use your tongue again."

She did. The flat of it against the underside of the head, then the tip, light and teasing. She explored him, finding the spots that tightened his hand in her hair and going back to them.