Insatiable Craving: 2 (Insatiable Nights) (11 page)

A smart retort coiled on his tongue and begged to be set free, but he managed to swallow it instead. Aria was justified for being pissy with him, and smart as it did, Razor couldn’t deny she was right. While there were things he could never forget, the finer details of his true nature had never been thoroughly studied. His family hadn’t cared to know how wolves operated beyond how many shots of silver were required to take one down. Things might have changed in the years since he was turned, but what little he’d gleaned about his kind then hadn’t centered on anything aside from how best to kill them. And after Natalie’s death, Razor’s only concerns about werewolves involved doing whatever he could to keep his own inner wolf in line, as well as maintaining anonymity among the various local packs.

And forget the one woman who had seen the face of his monster when he was at his worst and lived to tell the tale. Raegan Something-or-other, Natalie’s roommate. The woman he almost killed, whose life he had likely changed forever.

No. No
likely
about it. Razor was confident his name was one Raegan dredged up on a regular basis. After all, it couldn’t be easy to forget a man turning to a wolf before one’s eyes.

Aria had suggested once trying to contact Raegan to see how the years had treated her after discovering his dirty little secret. A path to penance for what he’d done as well as acceptance of who he was. Razor hadn’t contemplated the proposition much since first telling his aggravating little witch no. Perhaps, given how close he’d come to baring his fangs on another girl, he should reconsider.

He might not be able to ask Natalie for forgiveness, but maybe he could ask Raegan. Not that he expected her to understand. He’d only recently begun to understand himself.

Aria had kept him safe for years by doing all the learning for him. The word
mate
, while superficially familiar, had never meant anything to him. Not much of his heritage had.

“Okay,” Razor said softly. “So you’ll look into it.”

“I’ll look into it. Though really…”

“I’ll look into it too.”

Aria’s eyes narrowed.

“Well,” he continued. “Not right this moment, but I swear I’ll get better about doing this stuff. And to be clear, I’m not saying I believe this thing about mates, because her being human—”

“I’ll look into it, Raz. Until then, do us both a favor and don’t say never. Our world’s rules are complex and ever-changing.”

He chose to ignore the way Aria’s fingers, at those words, lovingly clasped Draken’s amulet. Her dependence on the annoying god was one of those things he knew would eventually come to a head, and likely in such a way everyone around her would be caught in the resulting wave.

Aria released a deep breath. “We won’t know until we know, you know?”

“No.”

She snorted and her hand fell to her side. “Great. Clear as mud. Now—”

“Now I’m gonna split.”

“Razor!”

“I told Ginny I’d head over after we closed down.” Razor hopped off the stage and began a heated stride toward the door. “Do me a favor and—”

“My life is nothing but one revolving favor for you, is it?”

“Glad you see things my way.”

“I swear—”

“I’m just taking your advice,” he called over his shoulder. “You wanted me to find a girl and unwind.”

“Remind me never to give you advice again.”

“When have I ever been able to stop you?” He paused at the door but didn’t turn around. If he turned around, Aria’s cow eyes would speak to his conscience and he’d magically forget that she was the number one cause of each headache he’d had in recent years. Love her though he did, Aria’s nose perpetually found itself in his business, and he had no intention of letting her guilt him now.

Not now, when Ginny waited for him at her apartment.

Still, the part of him that wasn’t a complete asshole refused to budge another inch until he said, “Thanks, Aria.”

A beat, two beats, then, “Yeah, yeah.”

He grinned and pushed his way out the door and into the night.

* * * * *

Ginny wasn’t true to her word. The instant she stepped into her apartment, the buzz that had kept her going promptly evaporated. It had been long enough since she’d had sex that she hadn’t anticipated her body’s exhausted crash, and didn’t make it five feet inside her apartment before the world shut down around her. Her eyes became heavy and the adrenaline upon which she’d feasted dropped unceremoniously out of range. She was a zombie. There was no way she’d be able to stay up late enough to talk or—more likely—take him into her body again.

Not that she planned on doing that last thing, but given how every inch of her skin buzzed after leaving him—given the heat in his eyes and the unmistakable erection in his pants—sex was definitely on tonight’s schedule. Never mind her legs were sore and her body felt tender—never mind muscles she hadn’t used in years were screaming in protest at the thought of another round.

Ginny sighed and tossed her purse onto the couch. She needed to stay awake. She also needed to shower, as she figured she smelled to high heaven of sweat and sex, and neither of those things sounded too appealing after passions had cooled. Perhaps she would draw herself a nice bubble bath and relax, let the water tend to her sore muscles until Razor showed up to sore them up all over again.

It sounded like as good a plan as any, and since it was her only one, she decided to run with it. After a quick shower to wash her hair, she drew herself a hot bath and tossed in the last of her lavender-scented bubbles.

It had been a long while since Ginny had chosen this form of relaxation. In college she had drawn herself one at least three times a week, usually as a reward for completing a paper or acing a test. She’d light a candle, pour herself a glass of wine, grab the latest romance to hit the shelves and submerge into the cliché without a care in the world. After Travis, bubble baths seem to lose their ability to relax her. She felt vulnerable and exposed when she should feel serene.

Whatever Razor had restored in her sex drive had seemingly bled over into some other areas. After scrubbing her skin thoroughly and soaking for a few blissful moments, Ginny’s eyes began to grow heavy. She yawned and splashed some water on her face—soap and all—but exhaustion had seeped into her skin, curling around her bones as though it were an old lover. Sleep remained out of the question if Razor was on his way over but, she reasoned after losing a few battles with her eyelids, resting her eyes wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t as though she’d fall asleep. Not in the tub, at least.

Later, she’d realize how profoundly stupid it was to close her eyes in a bathtub, especially being as tired as she was. At the moment, though, the part of her brain connected to higher reasoning couldn’t be bothered.

It was only a few minutes, after all.

* * * * *

“Ginny?”

She frowned, chilled to the bone. “Hmmm?”

“Sorry, I was worried,” she heard from a thousand miles away. “When you didn’t answer, I kinda—well, I might’ve broken your lock.”

She knew the words but they made no sense. And while a part of her understood Razor’s presence in her bathroom wasn’t normal, she couldn’t make heads or tails as to why. “Ah, hassbert,” she said. Then blinked. Some of the clouds fogging her mind began to fade. “Razor… What?”

“Hassbert? What’s a hassbert?”

“A what?”

He looked at her a moment longer, then shook his head, chuckling. “You’re out of it, aren’t you?”

“Outta huh?”

“Guess that talk’s gonna have to wait until tomorrow.” A shadow fell over her face, followed by the sound of splashing water. Then the drain gurgled. “Come on, cutie. Let’s get you into bed.”

Ginny didn’t resist when he grabbed her by the arm and tugged. She didn’t fight him, not even when the cold air smacked her wet skin or the sensation of little dribbles of water made their way down her body. Something was off, she knew, but her tired mind was too sluggish to put the pieces together. The basics seemed right. Razor was here—he was supposed to be here. His big hands were on her shoulders, steadying her as her wobbly feet touched the ground. Those hands disappeared for only a second before returning with a big cushy towel in tow.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

“Hokay,” she said, smiling up at him. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re pretty?”

He chuckled and turned her toward the door. “I’ve been called many things,” he said, edging her forward. The slight pressure at her back jump-started her feet, though it was likely by the grace of autopilot she found her way to the bedroom.

“Well, you are,” she said, climbing onto the bed. The towel fell somewhere, exposing her again to the cold, but she didn’t mind. In a few seconds she’d be under the blankets and the cold would go away.

“I got this ugly scar that says otherwise.”

Ginny huffed, clumsily grasping the comforter and dragging it down, but she didn’t make it very far. The next thing she knew, Razor’s hands were on her and the mattress was at her back. Again, her mind fought for some semblance of awareness, but was met with a persuasive cocoon of exhaustion.

“I think your scar’s sexy,” she said. It was the truth—on his otherwise flawless face, that one clean mark was the only thing about him that reassured her he wasn’t physically perfect—though for as well as he’d loved her body today, she might be mistaken where that was concerned.

“Yeah, well, you don’t know how I got it.” Razor hovered over her, his dancing eyes roaming the length of her body. “Such a shame.”

“Hmm?”

“I wanted to undress you slowly. Kiss your every delicious inch the first time I saw you naked.”

The words were enough to coax a small whimper from Ginny’s lips as a little shock rode its way to her clit. She spread her legs in welcome. “We can have sex.”

He barked a laugh. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not. I want you.”

“I can wait.” Razor took the corners of her comforter and pulled it snug over her body. “And we do need to talk.”

“Mmm.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ginny.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering just long enough for her to grasp him by the wrist.

“Stay.”

“What?”

“Stay. This is a big bed.”

He laughed nervously. “You’re delirious. Awake Ginny is going to be mad enough I broke in. She’d be downright furious if she woke up to find me beside her.”

“Awake Ginny is me.” She tried and failed to open her eyes to prove her point. The sandman had them officially glued for the night.

“No,” Razor argued, an amused note in his voice. “You’re Sleepy Ginny.”

“We’re the same. I want you to stay.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Ginny shook her head. “I’m just tired. Not drunk. I want you to stay. So we can talk tomorrow.”

“And have sex.”

“Well, duh.”

There was a long pause and the air around her fell deathly still. Such to the point she began drifting again before a long sigh chased the silence. The floorboard creaked and the air around her head became cooler again, and just as sleep began crawling over her tired limbs again, the mattress dipped with weight. She felt the comforter drag away before foreign heat permeated from the other side of the bed. Warm hands were on her next, pulling her into an equally warm embrace. She lifted her head and quickly found her cheek pillowed under a hair-grazed chest, the gentle thumps of a heartbeat echoing in her ear as a steadfast lullaby.

“This has been one strange day,” Razor said.

“Mhmm.” Her leg shifted upward just enough to feel the heat from his thick erection against her knee. “Strange.”

“Get some sleep.”

“You too.”

“You first.”

“Okay.”

It was a remarkably easy order to follow.

Razor had fuck-all idea how he got himself in these messes, or what he might have said to otherwise get himself out. After leaving the club, he’d spent the drive over to Ginny’s pondering the wisdom of his decisions and mostly certain she’d be asleep when he arrived. Hell, he’d almost convinced himself a couple times to turn around, head home and get some sleep.

Put some time and distance between himself and Ginny before whatever was between them heated up even more.

Still, the part of him revved from the thought—the possibility—that Ginny might be his mate, that he might even have a mate, made him desperate to see her again. Touch her. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw her one more time. Things like doors, locks and the lateness of the hour were meaningless obstacles.

Mate.

It was a statistic impossibility. Even without knowing the hows and whys of wolven mating, Razor acknowledged the pure randomness that was a girl walking into a club and just happening to be the chosen one for said club’s resident werewolf. Or, fuck, being the
whatever
for said club’s resident werewolf. There was chemistry and then there was magnetic chemistry. Whatever they had transcended logic on all fronts, pulling him apart until the only way he knew how to be together was at her side.