Rise of Hope (12 page)

He flinched as he rolled on the rubber, his gaze glued to Devon as she moved back onto the bed, watching him, her eyes wide.

“I’m sorry, Devon. I’m sorry,” he groaned as he rolled on top of her, used his thighs to spread her legs wide and settled against her. He hadn’t touched, kissed her body, hadn’t taken any time to explore. He hadn’t gone down on her again, hadn’t done any of the things he’d tormented himself with. “I can’t wait. I can’t…” His hand shook as he guided himself to her already slick entrance.

Thank God she was wet because all he could think about was being inside her, pushing against her and lodging himself in her hot, snug heat, as far as he could go.

He tried to call forth some inane data he could run through his head, tried to recall something, anything that would piss him off, distract him and drew a blank. All he could see was her and all he wanted was to thrust, pound,
fuck.

“Hold onto me,” he bit out, knowing he was in danger of losing control and hoping like hell he wouldn’t. Except she didn’t grasp his shoulders, didn’t dig her nails into his ass or hold onto his hips. No. Almost as if she knew, she cupped his cheeks instead, her palms soft against his face, forcing his gaze to hers and he felt everything in him still. And center. On her, just her.

Her face was flushed, her lips parted as she drew in ragged breaths. He’d never seen anything so beautiful.

“I have you, Seth,” she whispered.

His blood roared in his ears, the need clawed at him, gouged him in its ferocity, yet he eased his hips forward carefully, taking his cues from her, hearing and measuring every gasp, every whimper, every groan as her body began to accommodate his. He watched her face, utterly attuned to her as he pushed forward and then back, inch by slow agonizing inch until he was lodged tightly inside her—hot, wet, tight. And then all hope of distracting himself, of gaining some degree of control went out the window at the look on her face.

Lust. Pleasure. Wonder.

Every limb trembled, but he leveraged himself up to look at her body stretched out under his, down to where they were joined. It would have been enough—more than enough—to see where his cock was buried deep inside her, to see her stretched around him clasping him tight, but the marks…
Fuck
. They aligned. Perfectly. Where hers ended, his began in a seamless pattern.

Mine.

The word pulsed through him, repeating in an endless loop in time to the thundering of his heart, the roaring of the blood in his ears.

Mine. Mine…

Never in his life would he have imagined opening himself to another person, baring his soul to a woman who was now his, a woman who had been made solely for him, was meant only for him.

“Devon, I… Do you realize how fucking beautiful you are?”

Her hands slid to his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. He groaned as her body clenched around him, her hips slid against his, arched under him.

“Move… God, Seth,
move
.”

He smiled to himself at the command, one he was more than happy to comply with. He eased out and then inside her slowly, shallowly at first, the fit tight, but so damn good. He angled his hips so that he was rubbing directly against her clit with each thrust, swallowed the savage satisfaction that rocketed through him when she whimpered and arched against him, her body beginning to move in perfect counter to his.

“Seth…”

“That’s it, baby, move with me, just like that. Yeah… So. Good.”

He felt the feathering of sensation at the base of his spine, the tingle and tightening in his balls and gritted his teeth. He’d never tried to make it last before. He’d never thought to, had never wanted to.

“Devon,” he groaned. “As much as I’d like to fuck you for hours like this, I have to… I can’t keep this up for much longer. I won’t be able to hold back, I need to…”

Fuck you. Hard. And fast.

He fought it. More than he’d ever fought anything in his life before, but his body screamed at him to slam into her, over and over, to stamp himself on her, to possess her in the only way he knew how, to take her as his. Brand her.
Yes
, that’s what it wanted—what
he
wanted. To brand her as his.

He reached down between them, used his thumb to flick and rub against her clit in the same rhythm as his body into hers, watching closely to gauge her reaction so he’d know exactly how she liked it, how hard she needed it, how much it would take to send her over. And how long he’d have to hold himself back until she did.

She clutched his wrist. “No,” she croaked. “Stop, please…”

Stop?

He could barely comprehend the word in that instant. He closed his eyes tight, ground his teeth together so hard it ached, and used every ounce of his willpower to still the movements of his body. And even then, he was still flexing, pulsing inside her. “You don’t want to come?” he ground out.

* * *

Devon looked up into the face of the man above her, his big body on her, in her. The stinging ache between her legs almost more than she could stand, her body clamoring for a release she knew was close—but she wouldn’t be rushed, she couldn’t be rushed. Not now. He watched her as she eased her own hand down between them.

“I only wanted to feel…” she gasped when her fingers connected with her own flesh, stretched taut around him. He was inside her, all the way in, buried deep and so hard. She felt stretched, filled. She tried to draw in a deep, even breath, but it ended up ragged instead.

Sex. This was sex and it was nothing she’d imagined, not even close. It wasn’t gentle or sweet or anything like the dreamy ecstasy she’d often thought about, fantasized over. It was real and raw, hot and sweaty and intimate—so incredibly intimate. She hadn’t taken into account how close, how much a part of the other person you’d have to be, how aware of them you were.

He flexed inside her then and the searing pleasure that shot through her made her moan. Her fingers connected with him as he thrust shallowly, in and out, almost as if he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t prevent his body moving against and into hers.

“Devon,” he groaned, spreading his legs, giving her some more room. “Don’t stop. Aw, fuck…that feels so good.”

She clasped him, feeling the withdrawal and return of his body into hers, felt the place where he was entering her, right there where they were joined, and suddenly she was close, so close. And she wanted him with her.

She slid her hands around his back. “Come down onto me. I want to feel you, your weight on me, your body all the way along mine. Please…”

He folded himself down over her, his body anchoring hers into the mattress, surrounding her with his heat. She whimpered as he shifted inside her. Oh yeah, there, right there. She was balanced on the edge of something that promised to be so intense, so powerful she almost wanted to stop, to pull back from it. Almost.

“Okay?” he bit out, his voice barely recognizable.

She nodded. It was all she could do because his body began to thrust—longer, harder, deeper—and she was quickly losing the ability to think. She clasped her legs tight around his hips, dug her nails into his skin in a futile attempt to anchor herself.

“That’s good,” he groaned. “Because I’m about to… Aw
fuck
.”

He grabbed both of her hands and pinned them to the bed at her head. She experienced a split second of alarm before he slammed against and into her, quick, hard thrusts that caused pleasure to sizzle through her, spreading from where they were joined, over and over, out and into every nerve ending in her body until she thought it would never end, pulse upon pulse of heat and fire and sweet, sweet pleasure.

She registered his body bucking and jerking uncontrollably against hers, the groan that sounded as if it was torn from him as he buried his head against her neck. She clutched onto him, was aware of him entwining his fingers with hers and closed her eyes against the battery of sensations, so intense she thought for a second they might engulf her.

It could have been minutes or mere seconds before Seth raised his head. His breathing was heavy, his body hot and heavy on hers, his eyes dark, languid. He pushed the tangled strands of her hair aside with fingers that shook.

“I didn’t mean to be so rough,” he rasped. “You okay?”

Her own breathing was still choppy, her body still trembling beneath his, the aftermath of a pleasure she could never even have imagined. And he was still buried deep inside her, exactly where he belonged.

“That was…amazing. Seth, how… Is—is it always like that?”

“Never for me. Ever.” He paused, looked at her for a heartbeat, two. “Not even close.”

Seth, move.

Stop.

Come down onto me.

She couldn’t help the doubt, couldn’t help wanting to check, needing to. “Are you sure I didn’t…that I’m not…”

The corner of his mouth lifted and he released the hands he still held. “I’m sure. I lost control and made a Neanderthal ass of myself all on my own.”

“Okay,” she managed, lifting her arms and running her hands across his powerfully muscled back, luxuriating in the freedom to touch him, the simple pleasure of feeling his warmth, his vitality. She could still feel him inside her, hot, hard. “But I liked it. A lot.”

He smiled at that and ran his thumb across her lower lip. “It works on Micah, so maybe—maybe it’s a
Macche
thing. Maybe you can’t influence me because we’re
Macched
.”

“Macche?”
She’d never heard the word before, she was sure of it, but it held a ring of familiarity that caused a tingle throughout her body when she repeated it.

“Yeah.” He swallowed, his jaw clenched. “The marks, our marks, they match. It…”

He raised himself up on his forearms, lifting his weight from hers and she felt immediately bereft.

“Look,” he urged, his own gaze moving down to where they were still joined. “When I’m buried deep, they align.”

Devon lifted herself up on one elbow and gasped when she looked down. He was right. Their marks aligned and if he laid himself flush over her, her pattern would fit inside his.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” He lifted his head, his gaze meeting hers. “I don’t know the words,” he rasped. “God, Devon, I wish I had the right words for you.”

“Words?”

“There are words I’m supposed to say, ceremonial words,
Vadïm
words. Between us. I know there are, I feel the need to say them, the urge to tell you, but I don’t know them.”

“I don’t need words, Seth.” She touched a finger to his lips. “Well, some words would be nice, but I’m not particular.”

“One day I hope to give them to you, but in the meantime…” He took a deep breath. “You made me believe there are things worth fighting for, worth dying for.”

“Seth…”

She knew deep inside, with everything in her, he’d do anything to ensure her safety, above everything, including himself. And that scared the hell out of her because she understood the depth of it, the intensity. She felt exactly the same way.

“The thing is, you made me want to believe in something, want to fight for something.” His voice dropped. “You gave me hope when I didn’t have any. You gave me hope for a future I didn’t know I had, didn’t know I even wanted.”

He lowered himself over her. “No more running. Promise me, Devon. There’s still a lot we don’t know, might never know, but don’t run from me, don’t run from us. Whatever happens, whatever we find, whatever we have to face, this is where you belong. Okay?”

She swallowed. “Okay,” she whispered.

“Never doubt who we are to each other, who you are to me. You’re mine—mine to take care of, mine to protect, mine to…love.”

Devon felt the emotion clog the back of her throat, felt the sting at the corner of her eyes. This is what she’d been missing her entire life, what she’d needed, what she’d craved. Not the warmth that came from touch with another person, but the searing heat from this man—to be held by him, touched by him, claimed by him. Loved by him.

He was all hers, would always be hers. Just as she was his.

They were
Macched
.

Fated.

Forever.

Epilogue

“You ever sleep, man?” Seth asked as he strolled into Noah’s office.

While Seth’d slept like a fucking baby with Devon pressed along every inch of him, Noah looked like he may have gotten a couple hours at most. Again, he was dressed as if it were cold.

“How is she?”

Seth pulled back the smartass remark on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t know how he could ever repay the guy. He’d fooled himself into thinking he’d cleared his debt with Noah. For getting him off the streets, for showing him there were better things to aspire to than being the biggest thug. For helping him see he wasn’t crazy. Or alone. Yeah, he’d told himself for a long time they were more than square. But they weren’t, not by a long shot. And now? He was more than happy to owe him. A little consideration on his part wouldn’t kill him.

Devon… Damn, just thinking about her sent his heart racing. There was relief from the clawing needs of his body, release from the ravaging heat that was never far from the surface, but it wasn’t only physical. For the first time in his life, he felt the sweet taste of satisfaction, the languid wash of absolute contentment pumping throughout his body. And his mind. He was sated—completely, wholly. Finally.

He smiled to himself, thinking of the note he’d left for her to find when she woke. Along with the paper and pen. He’d told her to create a new “I’ve never” list. He couldn’t guarantee they’d be able to do everything, but he’d make damned sure he’d try. He’d do everything in his power to make all the things she’d ever dreamed of a reality. Although he knew one she could leave off. He’d already taken care of “kiss a boy.”

Not that he was likely to share any of that with Noah.

“She’s…” Seth cleared his throat. “Good, she’s good. So, how did you know? How did you know it was me?”

It could have been any one of them, any of them could have been a
Macche
for Devon. Or none of them. The odds were staggering, so how had he known? And how the fuck had
he
gotten so lucky—
him
, of all people? He’d probably ask himself the same question every day for the rest of his life.

Noah leaned back in the chair, his gaze focused on him. “We’re a paranoid bunch—aggressive in our secrecy.”

Ah, yeah.
He couldn’t argue with that.

“We instinctively hide our abilities from the world, from those we know wouldn’t understand, might even exploit them. Even from each other. It’s as if we have an inner fail safe, but if we don’t learn to trust each other, we’re doomed.”

Yeah.
He could probably see that too. Now.

Noah took a deep breath. “I can sense the fated.”

“What?”

“I know when a couple are
Macched
. I think it’s… I can sense the bond or whatever the hell it is.”

Seth frowned. “How?”

“None of your fucking business.”

Ah, that sounded more like the Noah he knew.

“You said males have abilities relating to the physical,” Seth pointed out.

Noah sighed. “Except me it seems.”

“So what makes you so special?”

Seth expected a smart comeback, but all he got was silence. And the clenched jaw. While others were gifted with incredible powers, skills and talents, Noah had gotten....

Seth smiled. “So, let me get this straight, your
Darce
is that you can—”

“It seems I’m our fucking matchmaker.”

And he sounded none too pleased about it.

“Do you know…can you tell if a person will ever find their
Macche
?”

“I…” Noah scrubbed his hand over his face. “It’s complicated, but yes, I know.”

“Micah? Christian? The others?” Seth choked out. “Do you know if they—
wait
.” Seth shook his head.
Jesus.
He’d never given much credence to fate before, had certainly never bought into the whole soul mate bullshit. After experiencing what it was like to be with Devon, to understand what it would feel like to have that taken away, and to think someone might not ever have that, were destined to never have it. Yeah… For them, there really was only one. “I don’t want to know. I don’t want the burden of that.”

Noah looked up at him, the expression in his eyes bleak. “You really don’t.”

He felt a twinge of guilt. He’d held out on Noah on this mission, held out for more money, more reward and for the simple pleasure of having the guy beg him. He’d held himself back for years, distancing himself from what he thought was Noah’s bullshit, delusional propaganda. It’d been nothing more than a game to him all along, but to Noah…

Seth thought of the other women, like Devon, out there somewhere, locked down, maybe used and manipulated, but alone, all alone. Thinking they’ve been abandoned, forsaken by a people that had pretty much lost all hope. And God how he knew how that felt. All except Noah. He never had. Not once.

“Noah—”

“Forget it.”

Fine.
He wanted to be the hard ass? He’d let it drop. For now.

Seth frowned. “There’s still one thing I don’t get.”

“Yeah?”

“Devon was held a virtual prisoner, segregated from everyone, allowed no freedom whatsoever, yet they let her go on that hike each year. It was incredibly risky. Even with the isolation, the tracking devices and the surveillance, it was a gamble. Why would they do that?”

Noah leaned back in his chair. “Why do you think?”

Seth’s gut clenched. It had bothered him from the beginning, in fact everything about it had seemed “off.” Now he knew why. “You think it was a setup.”

“Don’t you?”

Actually, if he’d been thinking clearer at the time he would have recognized there’d been too few guards at the warehouse. He swallowed. “What did they hope to get out of it? They lost Devon and gained…what?”

“Shit,”
Seth said when Noah didn’t say anything. “So now they know. About us, all of us, our abilities and that we’re…”

“Regrouping.” Noah leaned forward. “They know we’re starting to identify each other, that we’re searching out information, becoming organized and they can’t have that. My take? I think they wanted to smoke us out and were prepared to use Devon to do it.”

Seth’s blood ran cold. If that was right, they’d been prepared to sacrifice Devon in the warehouse as well. Her life might not have been the bargaining chip she’d thought it was. It could have so easily all gone to hell.

“The Broker led them right to us. He fucked me over. There’s no other way they could have tracked Devon here so fast.”

He heard the self-recrimination in Noah’s voice, but knew nothing he said would make much of a difference. If he ever got his hands on the man known as The Broker…

God, there was so much they didn’t know, didn’t understand. Yet. They were flying blind, had been for a long time, and this was completely new territory for him, but he had Devon now and he’d never let her go. He was going to find out who hurt her and how. Make sure they never got the chance to do it ever again. And he’d keep her safe, no matter what it took.

“But now they also know we pose a real threat,” Seth offered.

“We?” Noah asked, his mouth kicking up at one corner. Seth had to give the guy credit. He could have stuck it to him good—he was more than entitled—but he didn’t.

Seth stepped around the side of the desk and held out his hand. Noah stood slowly, looked down, but instead of shaking his hand he clasped Seth’s forearm in a firm grip. It was an age-old warrior’s hold. Seth reciprocated, swallowed at the thickness in the back of his throat. He owed Noah so much, owed him everything and the thing of it was, he’d never be able to put it into words.

“Yeah ‘
we,
’” he said instead, his voice thick. “We fight and we fight to win. For my woman, who’s finally where she belongs, for the women they still hold, for knowledge of our history, our heritage. And for our fucking
identity
. We fight.”

* * * * *