Rise of Hope (8 page)

Devon cleared her throat, raised her chin and looked him square in the eye. “I wouldn’t hurt anybody. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Of course not,” Micah soothed. “But you need to understand what you have to work with, its strengths and limitations.”

“And its risks,” Seth bit out.

Micah stepped back from her, inclined his head and then sauntered over, passing way too close, bumping right into him. On fucking purpose. If Seth hadn’t been braced for it, it would have knocked him back. As it was, they stood eye to eye, shoulder to shoulder. Seth clenched his hands into fists.

“Stay away from her,” he grated before he could stop himself. Yeah, so much for cool.

Micah’s mouth quirked. “Or what?”

“She’s not yours, Micah.”

“No.” The smile vanished. “She’s yours,
Seth
. It’s meant. You think I’d disrespect that?” Despite the colored contacts, Seth didn’t miss the flash of anger in Micah’s eyes. He’d only seen real anger a handful of times from the other man.
Well, shit.
And hurt, there might have been hurt there as well.

Micah poked him in the chest. Hard. He barely managed to hold back a wince. “She’s yours for the taking, Seth,” he said too low for Devon to hear. “All. Yours. What the fuck are
you
doing?”

He took several deep breaths after Micah left, still fighting the urge to rub the spot he’d jabbed. Or perhaps it was his heart that burned, ached.

“Micah was only trying to help. And what I do isn’t any business of yours. You’ve made that clear. More than once.”

Yeah. He had. Except… Just except.
Aw, fuck it.

“You’ve had a great deal of time to become accustomed to your ability. Right?” she threw at him.

Yeah. Micah was only doing what he should have made sure of himself. Again, he hadn’t been thinking clearly where she was concerned. Which was way more dangerous than Devon experimenting with her power.

“Yeah.”

She looked down at her hand, clenched and unclenched her fist. He wondered if she felt what he did when he used his own ability—a singing release of energy, a surge of warmth, a flood of sweet power.

“How did you find out about yours?” she asked. “Your abilities? How did you know you could…do what you can do?”

“How did I know I could morph into someone else?”

She nodded. It wasn’t exactly something he liked to think about or that he was particularly proud of. But she was the first person to ever ask him about it so why the hell not?

“I’d broken into a warehouse. I needed a quiet place to crash for the night.”

Her head tilted to the side. “You didn’t—you didn’t have a home? Even back then?”

“Home?” Home was what other people had. Not him. He had a house with too many kids, barely enough food and a place where his stuff went missing on a regular basis. “I preferred to take my own chances. But my luck ran out. I got cornered by a security guard.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” Seth relaxed some at the memory. He thought he’d been busted. He’d already been in trouble a couple times, he didn’t need another arrest, even though he was still underage.

“I remember wishing to be anywhere but there. Then I wished I could be someone else. And then…I was. I’d seen the guy who owned the warehouse around.” He cleared his throat. “I might have even lifted some spare change from his pocket once or twice. I thought it in my head, you know, that if I could look like him, if I could
be
him, I could walk right out of there. The security guard said hello to me, let me go. It was surreal.”

“You must have been scared.”

Scared?
No. He knew what scared was. He’d only seen it as an advantage.

He shook his head. “It took me awhile to figure out the connection with touch, but it became second nature soon enough. And my rep was born.”

“And have you always known you were…special?” she murmured.

“Special?”
Seth almost choked on the word. She thought what they were was
special?
Jesus.

“I’m so fucking special whoever brought me into the world left me outside a hospital when I was four.”

Devon paled and took a step toward him. “Oh, Seth…”

“I waited. For hours. They never came back.”

Alone, lost and that time—scared.

He swallowed at the thickness in his throat, the surge of adrenaline that shot into his system, like it did every time he went there in his head. He’d never in his life forget how he’d felt in that moment, how he’d felt for the hours he’d waited there, wishing for someone to come get him, pleading to himself, promising anything, hoping they’d tell him it had been a mistake, until the hospital officials had finally realized—no one was coming back for him.

“Special?” he spat again. “I’d trade ‘special’—and all that goes with it—for normal, any day.”

They’d told him to be strong, to be brave, as if that should have been enough, but he’d felt anything but. He’d so badly wanted to run after them, to beg and dammit…even to cry. But he’d stayed on the bench, like they’d told him to, head bowed long after they’d gone, picking at the peeling blue paint until he’d made his nails bleed. He’d tried to fuse them into his memory so he wouldn’t forget they’d left him there—on purpose—but as much as he tried, he couldn’t see their faces anymore, their images had long since faded. Most of the time he was glad about that. And he’d never cried. Not once.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“Yeah. Me too.”

He took a deep breath, shook his head. It was old news, over and done with. He knew it affected him, wasn’t arrogant enough to think otherwise, but dammit that didn’t mean he had to dwell on it or overthink it. It just was. And why the hell had he told her? He’d never told anyone before. Devon had enough to think about without his baggage.

He sucked it all back, like he always did. “Sometimes being a genetic abnormality is a real bitch.”

“Seth, I’m—”

“Sorry. Yeah. I got it the first time. It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. I’ve put it behind me.”

Except, he hadn’t. Not really. But this way was a hell of a lot easier.

“So rather than face the reality of what might have forced a mother to abandon her own child, you’d rather believe they just decided to get rid of you?”

“They dropped me off. Told me to be brave and to not cry. Didn’t even pack me a lunch. Then they left.” He shrugged. “That’s what happened.”

“From a child’s perspective.”

Yeah. He’d been a child—defenseless, innocent—but not for long. “So…you’re bought in then?”

She frowned. “Bought in?”

“The whole ‘secret race on the brink of extinction’ thing.”

“Why not? I mean, it’s plausible, isn’t it? Look at us. At what we can do. There could be any number of reasons they left you, Seth. Maybe…” her voice trailed off and she sighed. “Well, the possibilities are endless.”

“Yeah?” After all his digging Noah hadn’t been able to come up with a single good possibility so far. “Or maybe they’re real simple.”

Chapter Five

Devon knocked on the heavy door again. For the fourth time. How ironic would it be if she’d finally gotten up enough courage and he’d already left? God, maybe she’d really missed her chance this time because she’d been standing here like an idiot for ten minutes already. Then the door swung wide and she swallowed her tongue, along with everything she’d been going to say.

“What the hell…” he muttered.

Seth had a white towel wrapped around his lean hips and nothing else. His dark hair was damp and several drops of water clung to his wide shoulders. Smooth, brown skin stretched taut over the powerful muscles of his shoulders, his arms, his chest and down. Her mouth went dry. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was like her. Apart from the hair on her head, she didn’t have a single hair on her entire body. She’d never thought about it much before, but she’d known it made her different. A wash of heat flared into her cheeks because now she was thinking about it. A lot.

He looked at her for a second before he motioned for her to come in and shut the door.

“What are you doing here? It’s late.”

An open duffel bag sat on the huge bed. Her stomach clenched. He sounded none too happy to see her. This really could be her last chance.

“I—I still have questions.”

“Yeah?” He turned away and tossed a couple of bunched-up shirts into the bag. “I’d say Noah’s got that covered.”

“I—I still have questions for you, Seth.”

It felt good to use his name, too good. She could almost fool herself into thinking that’s what caused him to pause, his jaw to clench.

“I’m the last person you should be asking. Ask Noah. He has all the answers—or as much as he’s willing to share anyway.”

Devon’s mind was overloaded with information, with trying to grasp everything that had happened, trying to reconcile it with what she’d known, yet all she could do was stare at him, at his naked chest. She’d seen it plenty on the day he’d rescued her, but this was different. Completely. All he had on was a towel, a towel that dipped low on his lean hips so that she could see the defined cut of his muscles there. And the marks. She could see the tops of his marks.

Beautiful, so beautiful.

She raised her hand toward him without thinking, not sure what she intended, but froze when he flinched, leaned back out of her reach.

Of course. He wouldn’t want her to touch him. Not now. Maybe no one ever would. Not regular touching, anyway. Did it really matter? It wasn’t as if it was anything she’d miss. Right? She curled her hand into a fist and fought to keep her face impassive.

“Sorry,” she choked. “It’s hard to remember.”

“Remember what?”

She could understand why those who’d raised her had forbidden touch. Even though it was still hard to fathom, she’d be a risk to them. To everyone. And it scared the hell out of her.

“That no one wants me to touch them. Because of what I might make them do.”

“Devon, that’s got nothing—”

“Right.”

She gasped when he stepped to her, grabbed her wrists and forced her hands against his chest. Her heart rate jumped. He was so warm and it felt like forever since she’d felt warm. She hesitated for an instant before she relaxed her clenched fingers and spread them out until her palms rested flat against his skin. She trembled at the sensation that skated up her arms, down into her abdomen and then lower, arrowing sharply between her legs.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his soap, the cleanness of his skin. Of him. She glanced down and swallowed, trying to ignore the bulge his body made under the towel and failing miserably.

Now. It had to be now.

“Noah won’t say anything about the marks. He said it was for you to tell me.”

“Devon…”

“I’d like to see.”

“See?” he choked out.

“The marks—your marks—if it’s okay.”

“Devon, I’m naked here.”

Close, but not exactly.

She raised her gaze to his. “I don’t care.”

“Yeah, well I might.”

“Please…”

Her throat went dry when he let go of her hands and reached for the edge of the towel. His eyes were dark, hot, riveted to hers.

“Remember,” he rasped. “You asked for it. Okay?”

She nodded. She doubted she’d be able to speak, then she knew for sure when the towel fell to the floor.

Oh. God.

She dropped her hands and stepped back to make sure she had an unimpeded view. She’d seen pictures before, of course she had. She’d always thought a man’s private parts kind of odd looking and hardly attractive, but…the pictures hadn’t prepared her for anything like this. Seth was thick and long, hard, his testicles full and heavy beneath. And no more wondering. His body was as smooth as hers. Everywhere. He looked big and male and so incredibly beautiful with the dark scrolls etched into his skin, he took her breath away.

“Seth, it…the marks…they go right onto your…”

* * *

Cock.

Yeah and Devon was staring right at it, making no attempt to hide her interest, not even a pretense at it. And he was hard, more than. He drew in a deep, shuddering gulp of air because he wasn’t going to be anything
but
hard for the foreseeable future if she kept looking at him like that.

To Seth the best type of sex was fast sex—always had been—and he’d rarely allowed a woman to get a good look at his marks. He might be a lot of things, but outright lying didn’t sit well with him and he’d never wanted to field the inevitable questions. Then there’d always been the risk of seeming like a freak. Of having to explain the why of it—not that he could. He’d never wanted to have to deal with that.

And it hadn’t seemed right to share them with anyone.

Some of the tension eased out of his shoulders. She didn’t look horrified or disgusted or morbidly fascinated. He hated that reaction the most. Actually, she just looked fascinated.

“Yeah, the last year the marks came.”

They’d started appearing when he was sixteen and each year after that, a little more at a time. That last year, when they’d spread to cover his cock, they’d hurt like a bitch so he’d been glad when it was done with.

“I didn’t get any more after that.”

“Do they all— I mean do all the men…”

“I don’t make a habit of checking out other guy’s dicks.” And he didn’t really like the idea of her thinking about the other guys and their cocks either.

She reached out a hand and he went still. He’d been braced for a more intimate touch, but the gentle slide of her fingertip as she traced the outer edge of one scroll at his hip still almost brought him to his knees. Need roared through him—hot, urgent, savage—but he reined it back. If she had even an idea of what was inside him, what he really wanted and how badly, she’d be running from him. As far and as fast as she could.

He took a deep breath. “Now you.” His voice was harsh, but he couldn’t do a thing about it.

Ever since he’d first seen her own markings he’d ached to see them again, ached until it was a pounding urge he could barely contain.

Her gaze swung up to his, locked on and he saw the hesitation, the uncertainty.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve already seen you naked, had my hands over every part of you.” But it hadn’t been enough. Not nearly enough. Not for what had been in his head, what still was.

He watched her, trembling like some horny, inexperienced kid, as she eased out of her jeans and kicked them aside, his mind exploding with where he wanted to touch, how he wanted to touch. As it was, he had to clench his fists at his sides to stop from reaching out to her, to stop from ripping the clothes from her because she was moving too damn slow.

“The rest,” he managed, his voice rough.

“But—”

“It’s only fair. I’m standing here buck naked after all.”

He wanted nothing to obstruct his view. Nothing. He wanted her naked, only her. And the marks.

His mouth went dry with the way her small breasts lifted as she took the T-shirt off over her head, his blood a roaring in his ears when it dropped to the floor, need a pounding force throughout his body when her fingers gripped the edge of her panties and stopped.

He bracketed her hips in his hands, felt her tremble. Or that might have been him. He rubbed his thumbs across her skin, brushing the edge of the marks on her abdomen. Jesus, they were so fucking beautiful against her pale skin and to know they were his, that she was branded with
his
marks…his hands shook at the thought of it.

He dropped to his knees, hooked his fingers in the elastic of her tiny panties and eased them down her legs. He leaned forward and put his mouth to her, right where the wound had been, the wound he’d had a hand in creating. He trailed his lips against her, her taste rocketing his senses as he traced a swirl that dipped low down above her sex. He smiled savagely to himself when she threaded fingers into the hair at the back of his head, urging him against her, because he was pretty sure she had no idea what she was doing.

He inhaled deeply. He could smell her, the scent of her feminine heat, the arousal she had no way of hiding from him, and in that instant there was no way he could have stopped himself from tasting her.

He forced himself to go slow, using his tongue to lap against her slowly, when all he really wanted to do was back her up against the wall, lift a thigh up onto his shoulder and devour her, licking and sucking against her until she came screaming, moaning, and then he’d start all over again. Instead, he fought to keep his touch light, but it was enough for her taste to explode against his tongue.

“Seth,” she moaned as he lifted his head and licked against the smooth skin of her abdomen again, tracing another of the dark swirls with his tongue. “We’re connected somehow. I don’t think even you can deny that. I feel it. And I want to know why.”

He looked up into her hooded gaze. There was a flush high on her cheeks, her breathing uneven.

“Don’t you feel it, too?” she tried again when he didn’t say anything.

It roared into him, through him. The need. He’d fought with it since the last year he’d gotten his marks, fought daily to keep it in check, to keep it reined in under some semblance of control until he couldn’t stand it any longer and he had no choice but to sate it. But
this?
This thing he was feeling with Devon? The emotions that lashed at him? For
her?
It was nothing compared to that. Nothing. It paled into fucking insignificance.

“Yeah. I do.”

He should have denied it, he’d meant to, but he couldn’t. Not with his hands shaking with the need to touch her, really touch her, his body straining for her, everything in him clamoring with the need to take, to claim.

He shouldn’t have kissed her either. Not
there
. He still didn’t understand why he’d done it apart from the fact that for the first time in his life he’d done something without thinking, without coldly analyzing it, without weighing the odds. He’d just gone with it and the result was the sweetest fucking thing he’d ever experienced.

He stood, his legs shaking as if he’d run a marathon. He grasped her hand, urged it against him.

And the beast went into overdrive.

“Touch me,” he demanded roughly, the words torn from him. He needed, so bad…

“I would.” He felt her hand tremble as she lifted her gaze to his. “If I knew how.”

“What?” he choked out.

“I’ve never… No one has ever been allowed to touch me, remember?”

Aw fuck.

Of course. He tried to grab for the control he’d always prided himself on and only managed it because of the savage fury that roared through him in its place. Because now he knew what she’d had to endure, what they’d forced her to endure.

“I’ve never been with a virgin before,” he blurted, letting her hand drop from him.

Jesus, he could barely remember being one himself. How the hell could he do this? And why was he even considering it?

“I’m not completely without knowledge, Seth,” she whispered. “I mean, I know the mechanics—”

“
Christ,
” he bit out. “Theory doesn’t count for much when it comes to this.”

He ran the fingers of one hand through his hair. It was a dumbass idea to begin with. It should have never even gotten this far,
he
should never have let it.

“Devon, I don’t—I’m not—I’m out of my league here. With this, with all of it.”

It was a first. He was always so sure of himself, always knew without any doubt exactly what needed to be done—but this, with her? No clue.

“Just…do whatever you’d normally do.”

Was she serious?

“If I did that, I’d be inside you and we’d be fucking already.”

Hell, the whole thing might already have been over by now.

If only she knew. His standard MO wasn’t going to cut it here. God help him, he wanted to linger over her, touch and kiss her all over, and he wanted it to last, as long as he could make it last.

“Have you ever even seen a naked man? Aroused?”

“You mean hard?” Her gaze dropped. “Like you are?”

The wide eyes were answer enough, but he didn’t need her romanticizing this,
him
.

“Devon…” He took a deep breath. “Women, sex and me? Not a great combination.”

“Is that right?”

He frowned. “Yeah. It’s… Sex is hot and sweaty, down and dirty. It’s not soft and gentle. At least it’s not with me. And I don’t do repeat performances.”

At least, he never had before.

“You have a lot of…pre-requisites.”

His mouth thinned. He just hoped she was hearing him.

“Do you ever touch yourself? Finger yourself?”

His balls tightened at the thought of her hand between her legs, making herself come, because the rush of color into her cheeks gave him his answer. He could barely stand the images that exploded in his head.

The need that blasted through him then was violent, brutal, like nothing he’d ever experienced before. And he fought with it every step of the way as he urged her backward to the bed, easing her down until she lay on her back. She was a little shy, a lot uncertain, but her expression held a whole hell of a lot of anticipation.