Dark Wolf Running (Bloodrunners) (19 page)

“Oh, shit,” he wheezed, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Don’t. Don’t make me laugh.”

“Why not? Isn’t this meant to be fun?”

He lowered his hands and glared, his chest rising and falling with his hard breaths. “You’ve got me strung so tight I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. My goddamn eyes are wet. Laughing. Crying. Losing my fucking control. You are
wrecking
me, El. Piece by bloody piece.”

“In a good way?”

“I don’t know,” he groaned, still sounding as if he was having trouble getting enough air. “I just know that I’d do
anything
to have these moments with you.”

At his incredible words, heat spilled through her insides in a decadent, completely addictive pleasure rush, like an emotion orgasm for her soul. For her heart. Which was freaking unfair as hell, seeing as how he didn’t want it. Needing a distraction before she started sobbing and clinging to him like a child—begging him to care about her when she was so not the kind of woman to believe in happily-ever-after—she leaned down until her mouth hovered no more than an inch above that heavy, glistening head. She felt him shudder as she breathed on him, and looked up at him through her lashes to find him watching her again. “Do you mind?” she whispered, wanting the feel of him against her tongue so badly she could taste it.

Raw, predatory hunger burned in his gaze. “You take my dick in your mouth, El, and I’m going to come in it,” he growled in warning. “I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“I’m good with that,” she said with a smile, already lowering her head. She gasped at the first brush of him against her lips, his skin hot to the touch, as if he were burning with fever. Her lips felt sensitive and full, loving the velvety feel of his flesh, her hand squeezing him tighter as he jumped in her grip.

“Fuck!”
he shouted, when she flicked her tongue against him, taking a tentative taste that made her moan. Mmm...she hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t expected him to taste as incredible as he looked, but he did. Warm and salty and deliciously male. So good that she had to lick him from root to tip, tasting every inch of him while his back arched and he shoved his fingers into her hair, gripping her head. Then she took the thick shaft into her mouth and started to lick and suck, unable to get enough of his taste, he was
that
addictive. With his harsh breaths and hoarse groans playing in her ears, she used her saliva to get him nice and wet, then drew in a deep breath and took him even deeper, his graveled shout telling her that she was definitely doing something right. So she just kept doing it, using her hand on the wide inches she couldn’t fit between her lips, licking and sucking on the ones that she could, determined to make this the best oral sex he’d ever been given.

She moaned around his beautiful cock when he started lifting his hips, rubbing himself against her tongue, and a coarse, chuffing sound vibrated in the back of his throat. “You’re killing me, you know that?” he snarled.

“Good,” she panted against the slick head as she let him slip from her mouth, her lips pressed to the blunt tip. That was what she wanted. To make him as desperate as she felt. Make him crave her. Get him so addicted he didn’t know up from down anymore, then show him what it was like to get cut down to size. To have something you didn’t even really understand how badly you wanted ripped away from you before you even had it. This was going to be Queen Bitch Elise at her finest, and she was going to—

No!
Oh, God, what was she even thinking? She didn’t want to hurt him. She just...she just wanted...

Shit!
She didn’t know what she wanted. Except for this. His pleasure. The feel of his strong, magnificent body trembling as she took him to the edge and shoved him over.

“I’m gonna come,” he growled, warning her.

Like hell am I pulling back.
She only sucked on him harder, taking him deeper, until she could feel him bumping against the back of her throat, her hands busy stroking and squeezing the rest of him. He made a raw, guttural sound, and his hips punched up, pushing him even deeper, and she loved it. Loved feeling him lose control. Loved knowing that she was the one making him do it.

Then he started ejaculating, his release on the cusp of being violent, and it was the most provocative, exciting, erotic thing she’d ever experienced. He wasn’t gentle, his hips pumping him in and out of her mouth as he gripped her head with both hands now, but she didn’t give a damn. Like the animal he was, he took his pleasure in a way that was rough and hard and powerful, and she couldn’t get enough of it. Of feeling him lose control, shattering, as she took everything he had to give. It was so sweet and intimate, despite being so explicitly raw. Or maybe because of it. She’d given him something, a part of her that she hadn’t wanted to give any man in years. Had battered down his shields so that she could get under his skin, and in doing so, she’d let him...

Oh, no.
Lifting her head, she wiped her lips with the back of her wrist as she met the sharp, piercing intensity of his dark gaze, and reeled.

Oh, God, backfire. Total backfire!

Her lips felt tingly and full, her body heavy, weighted with desire, her need now like a wet, slick warmth in her veins, coursing through her limbs, invading every part of her. Even though she wasn’t the one who’d climaxed, she felt as if her shields had just been blasted to hell and back, and knew she’d made a massive error. God, she’d been so wrong. She couldn’t go through with this and use him. Not without it coming back and slapping her in the face. If she did, he was going to know her. Truly
know
her. All of it. Everything. Each and every one of the secrets and scars she hid on the inside, where no one could see them. It was going to happen because blasting him to pieces had blasted her right along with him, on a level that was so much deeper than emotion. One that resided down in her blood and bones, and her very soul. She hadn’t been expecting it, because it had never happened to her before. But then, nothing with Wyatt was like the things she’d known in her past.

Damn it, she had to go.
Now.
The only way she might have been able to trust him with those secrets was if he loved her—but he’d already made it clear that he wasn’t looking to fall in love. Which meant she needed to pull back, no matter how badly it sucked. It was either that or risk full disclosure and the shitty reality that would follow. He would eventually spill to everyone, claiming it was for her own good, and they would all know. Then she’d be smothered with looks that turned her stomach. Stares of pity, revulsion and disappointment. Thanks, but no thanks.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, seeing the look that crashed over her face as she scrambled back from him. She didn’t stop until she’d reached the far side of the bed.

Panting, she said, “I...I need to go.”

His worried expression instantly shifted to surprise. “What?”

“You don’t do relationships, and I don’t do casual sex,” she explained huskily, shaking her head. “Not anymore. I don’t know how to explain it. I just... I need more than that if I’m going to put myself out there.”

He sat up and shook his head, too, as if he were trying to clear it. “You’re fucking serious?”

“Um, yeah,” she whispered.

She could tell he wanted to argue her decision. But what could he say? He didn’t want to make her promises. He just wanted sex. And no matter how badly she ached to be that close to him, she knew it would be a mistake for her.

“Fine. But you stay. This is your room now. I’ll go,” he muttered, scrubbing his hands over his face as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He hitched his boxers and jeans over his hips as he moved to his feet, then turned and looked back at her over his shoulder. Their gazes locked, and she knew he didn’t know what the hell to do with her.
About
her. She caught the movement of his throat as he swallowed, before looking away and heading toward the door that led to the bathroom. It slammed behind him, and she flinched when she heard what sounded like a fist connecting with one of the bathroom walls, followed by the sound of the shower turning on, water rattling through the pipes.

When she heard the TV turn on in his bedroom across the hallway, she realized he must have exited the bathroom through the other door, no doubt wanting to avoid her. Not that she blamed him. She should have been smart. Should have kept her distance. Should have goddamn known better!

And Elise didn’t think she was ever going to forgive herself for being such a fool.

Chapter 11

A
s a crack of thunder rumbled in the distance, Wyatt lifted his hand to wipe the rain from his face. He was out on patrol again with Jeremy, and they’d gotten caught in another rolling series of storms. Jeremy was unusually quiet tonight, which left him with nothing but time to think about what had happened with Elise the night before.

If there were prizes for colossal male fuckups, he definitely deserved one. It made him sick every time he thought about the look on her face when he’d told her he didn’t want a relationship. It’d been like watching the light go out in something beautiful. And he’d done that. Crushed the trust that had been growing between them because he was a goddamn guilt-riddled coward. He was going to die old and alone, watching her fall in love with some other Lycan and build a beautiful life, seething with cancerous jealousy, and have no one to blame but himself.

Shoving the maudlin thoughts aside, since they were playing hell on his stomach, Wyatt focused on the surrounding forest. The fresh moss was springy beneath his feet, verdant and lush, the air crisp from the constant fall of the rain. They were getting soaked and wouldn’t be able to track shit in this weather, but they kept on with it, knowing damn well that Roy was just waiting to make his move against them. The bastard was lying too low, being too quiet, not to make them suspicious. And despite having scouts from Shadow Peak watching the roads out of Hawkley, there hadn’t been any sign of Harris Claymore.

“Dude, this sucks out loud,” Jeremy muttered, glaring up at the dark, cloud-swollen skies. It didn’t look as if it was going to stop raining anytime soon.

“What sucks is you calling me
dude.
”

The Runner snickered, slapping him on his shoulder. “It’s okay. You’ve just forgotten how to be hip.”

“I was never hip,” he muttered derisively. “And I don’t think
hip
even means the same thing anymore. You’re dating yourself, idiot.”

Jeremy scowled. “We need to spend more time with Elliot and Max.”

Rolling his eyes, Wyatt said, “Face it, man. You’re a grown-up now. Hanging out with the boys isn’t going to change that.”

“I don’t want to change it,” Jeremy drawled, laughing under his breath. “I
wouldn’t
change it. Not for anything in the world.”

The guy hadn’t come right out and said it, but Wyatt knew he was thinking about his wife when he spoke with such conviction. And that made him think of Jillian’s friendship with Elise. “Has Jillian ever told you anything about Elise’s attack?” he asked, before he could talk himself out of it.

Jeremy didn’t respond at first. But after a couple of moments, his friend finally muttered, “Yeah. But I don’t think you want to hear it, Pall.”

“You’re right. I don’t,” he grunted, feeling the familiar anger, which came whenever he thought about the attack, pulse inside him. He felt it everywhere. Not just fury, but a raw, eviscerating rage. It swept through him like embers, curling into places where it could settle and seethe. “But I need to. I need to know as much as I can about what happened to her.”

Jeremy blew out a heavy breath, as if bracing himself for the story. “You know how Jilly’s healing abilities work. When someone has endured a lot of...trauma, she has to go in deep and that usually opens up their minds to her.”

At the mention of trauma, his fangs had almost slipped from his gums. “And that’s what happened when she healed Elise?” he asked, practically grinding the words out.

Jeremy rubbed his jaw and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Just tell me what you know, man. I need to hear it.”

“Jilly doesn’t like to talk about it,” Jeremy rasped while they continued making their way through the misty forest. “Not that I blame her. But she told me a bit when we were working together, investigating Elise’s crazy father. From the things she saw in Elise’s mind, Jillian learned that she’d been attacked while she was out on a walk one night by at least three males in their Lycan forms. She was conscious during the attack, and they did shit to her that was as twisted as it was cruel. Not only hurt her, but did their best to terrify her. It...it was nothing but pure evil, Pall. I wish to hell we’d known at the time so that we could try to find them, even though the rain that night made it impossible to track their scents. But Stefan did everything he could to keep the Runners from knowing the truth.”

Christ, no wonder Elise didn’t like to shift. He hadn’t known that they’d been in their wolf forms during the attack. Considering the rogues he’d had to hunt over his years as a Runner, Wyatt knew damn well how much damage a fully shifted Lycan male could inflict on a woman. Even one from a Dark Wolf bloodline like Elise’s. Especially when she was in her human form.

“It kills her that she can’t remember what happened,” he muttered, wanting nothing more at that moment than to take her in his arms and hold her. But they still had nearly thirty minutes left on their patrol, and he wasn’t done questioning Jeremy. “Do you think it has something to do with the drugs the Whiteclaw have been manufacturing?”

“I think it’s definitely possible,” Jeremy replied. “Like I said, Jillian was able to tell that Elise was conscious during the attack, but there’s nothing in her memories to help identify who they were. It’s like part of her brain was just wiped clean. The things Jillian learned were buried deep in her subconscious.”

“Which is why she dreams them,” he murmured.

“Shit,” Jeremy cursed. “That sucks.”