Strength (Mark of Nexus #1) (32 page)

“No one is too strong to die.”

“Either way, you
won’t
.”

“Rena…” His apprehension loomed like a storm cloud on the horizon, an omen of things to come. “Please.”

I leaned forward, my hands trembling as my tone hovered above a whisper. “I watched you die once. I won’t do it again.”

He wouldn’t look at me. “Then maybe this is goodbye.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks, and I collapsed onto his chest, burying my face in the crook of his neck. For the first time in my life, I didn’t care what anyone thought of me. I was upset, damn it. Why couldn’t he just think of himself for once? Or me.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t go,” I pled against him, his stubble scratching my skin. “Make Cole go alone. We’ll lay low for a while, let it pass.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “And trust him to take care of it? I can’t do that.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“No.” His voice strained, and I felt him tense beneath me. “You’ll stay here.”

“Make me,” I muttered, trying to ignore the fact that my nightshirt had crept up over my backside.

“I will, if that’s what it takes,” he growled. There was a strange finality to his tone as he put a hand at my hip. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” I didn’t bother to look up, lying in his almost-embrace. “If you have no choice but to face this, I want to face it with you, Wallace.” The confession felt like a blade, torn from the back of my throat. Needing him was something I’d never wanted to admit.

“Rena…”

Lying against him made me feel so small, so
feminine
—a detail I hadn’t anticipated in my daydreams. Did this sudden comfort have something to do with the bond, or had we simply reached that plateau of trust without either of us realizing it? I had a feeling I knew the answer, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it.

Truth be told, there was probably something at work far beyond the reach of bonds and supernatural powers. What else could provoke such a stubborn conviction in me of all people? I’d developed some strong feelings for Wallace along the way, despite my better judgment. I had a feeling I was falling.

And he was untouchable.

My body lifted, ever so slightly, as his chest rose and fell in a deep, calming breath. The pressure at my hip intensified, but I didn’t pay it any mind. I had yet to die from a bruise.

“You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met,” he muttered.

I raised my head, blinking back stale tears. “Are you serious? I’m lying here, trying to tell you that I don’t give a shit about the consequences and all you can do is give a stupid, cryptic response?” My jaw clenched. “Do you even know how hard it is for me to admit these things? I’m in this, whether you want to accept it or not. I want this chance. I don’t know why you don’t.”

“I do,” he snapped, gripping my side. “I do, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yes! That’s what I’ve been trying to—”

“That doesn’t mean I can act on it,” he interjected in a stern voice. “Do we need to keep having this argument over and over again? These things you want—I can’t give them to you. I’m never going to be human, Rena. Why don’t you get that?”

My eyes sparked, wide and livid, as I slammed my fist on the floor. “I’m not asking you to be human. I’m asking you to be a
man
!”

Someone banged on the door, and I snapped my head up to glare through the darkness.

“Will you two shut up in there?” Cass bellowed through the door. “I can’t sleep with all this muffled shit going on.”

“Not now!” I yelled, my voice dripping with threat. If I heard one more knock or interruption, someone was going to get punched in the face. I was tired and cranky and not having any of it.

I heard a huff and a few footsteps, and then the sound of another door clicking shut.
Thank God.
I didn’t know who I was more relieved for, her or me.

“I’m not a man?” Wallace’s deep voice rumbled in a tone so dangerous, it turned my head.

“I wouldn’t know,” I retorted, tilting my chin. My feelings were hurt, and I was ready to inflict some damage of my own. “If anything, you’re a hypocrite.”

His eyes narrowed. “What?”

“How can you with one breath praise God and then with the next, scorn your own existence? Did you leave your faith in your church clothes or what?” A moment ticked by in silence, and I pushed myself up a little bit, staring down into his face. “You might as well be dead, Wallace, because you’re terrified of living.”

Something hard caught my arm, and the next thing I knew my back was slammed against the floor with Wallace straddling me. The breath caught in my lungs for a few seconds as I tried to grasp what had just happened.

He braced himself on his hands and knees, covering me in shadow. “Is that what you really think?”

I shivered, looking up at him as my heart pounded and struggled to find a way outside of my chest. “Yes.”

Pain and fury flashed through his eyes, and he crumpled his brow. “That’s not how I want you to see me.”

“I know,” I admitted, trying not to flinch at how menacing he looked without the passive, gentlemanly expression I’d come to expect.

“You’re just so…ugh! I can’t even think.”

I frowned. “What are you going to do?”

He stared at me for a moment and let out sigh. “Something I’m going to regret.”

What was that supposed to mean? “Regret wha—” My words disappeared, murmured against his lips.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

I was done thinking.

A lifetime’s worth of intensity raced past in a dizzying blur as he kissed me, and I blindly threw my arms around his neck. I felt, more than heard, the moan reverberate through his chest as he pressed against me, melding his body to mine.

My lips parted in a gasp that he wasted no time taking advantage of. But when he slipped his tongue into my mouth, I met him with equal vigor. Wet and heated, fighting for dominance. I couldn’t breathe. He tasted of wicked innocence—darkness and light. I didn’t want to break for air.
Ever
.

Desire ached low in my stomach as I reached up, dragging my fingers through his hair. I needed to feel him against me in the worst way. It was the only thing my fragmented mind could process.

A low growl emanated from his throat as he blurred passion and frustration, bruising my lips. Everything fell away into the darkness.

My lungs burned, deprived of oxygen.
Damn it.
I pulled away, lightheaded and panting for air. It was all I could do to breathe as I looked up into his lust-filled gaze. His eyes were lowered at half-mast and brimming with desire. God, he was gorgeous.

I reclaimed his mouth, not bothering to let him catch his breath. My breasts were tight and sensitive, brushing against his chest as I clung to him. It wasn’t enough. “Touch me,” I rasped, tugging on his bottom lip

“Can’t.”

“Can
.”

“Rena,” he warned, taking a staggering breath.

Heat pooled between my legs and I squirmed, digging my heels into the carpet. “Pleeease…” I reached down and rubbed the hard swell of his pants, needing his reaction.

His eyes darkened, and he squeezed them shut for a second, swallowing hard. “Tell me…if I hurt you.” He carefully moved my hand aside and rocked back on his knees with a serious expression.

“Okay,” I agreed breathlessly, pushing the hair back from my face.

With painstakingly methodic movements, he started to slip his hand beneath the hem of my shirt, and I clenched in anticipation. “Okay,” I repeated, grasping his forearm in encouragement.

“Anxious?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. With each second that ticked by, more sweat dampened my hairline.
Come on…

His fingers tensed against my sides. “No.”

“No?”

“I can’t do it like this.” He pulled his hand back.

“Wait. Like wha—”

“Is this a favorite?” he asked, fingering the material of my nightshirt.

“No,” I managed. Seriously? What the hell did it matter?

Without another word, he grabbed my shirt and ripped it ragged down the middle. The cool air kissed my skin as he studied me with an appreciative look in his eyes. “Sorry, I just...”

“N-No, it’s fine.” Suddenly, I felt self-conscious lying there, more exposed to a man than I’d ever been before. Did he like what he saw, or was he just humoring me? With his looks, he could have…well,
anyone.
My cheeks burned.
Shit.
What had I started? And why wasn’t I scared? I thought I’d be scared.

Still holding my gaze, he bent down and pressed his lips to my collarbone. “You’re perfect,” he muttered, trailing warm kisses between my breasts. “More than perfect. I hate how perfect you are.”

I closed my eyes and savored the feeling. Not just the yearning, but the raw honesty of it all. A few words from him, and I’d been transformed. I wasn’t an inexperienced junior, lying on the floor of her dorm room. I was a woman giving in to her most fundamental needs. Sensual, bare, and exposed—I felt beautiful.

He cupped my breast with a surprising gentleness, brushing his thumb over the tip. The soft, pink bud puckered at his touch, a little too eager for attention. I lay there, mesmerized, as he dipped his head down.

This wasn’t happening.

It couldn’t be.

He traced a tantalizingly slow circle with his tongue, and I clamped down on my inner walls. “Wallace…”

With a prowess I didn’t recognize, he drew long and hard, sucking it into the sweltering fold of his mouth. My toes curled, and I raked my hand back through his hair, biting back a moan. I couldn’t take it.

Tingles shot up my spine and tightened my stomach as he pulled away.
Whoa, whoa. Why stop?
I squinted up at his silhouette and let my eyes adjust.

Oh.

Wallace stared off to the side, relieved—almost proud of himself—but I could feel his growing concern. How long could he keep his hands to himself? This was new territory. What if he lost control?

Before either of us had a chance to dwell on it, he bent down and resumed my torment with renewed fervor. Any inclination of protest I might’ve had disappeared as he murmured praise against my skin.
Oh, that man.
Strength and empathy weren’t his only powers tonight. He worked, and I writhed beneath him.

A few minutes passed, maybe more. My pounding heart had raced time and won, so there was no way of knowing. Finally, Wallace lifted his glowing gaze to mine, and I saw the change in his eyes.

I opened my mouth to speak, but it was all I could do to stare him down, drawing small, ragged breaths. Things were about to get out of hand.
Way
out of hand. This…this would change things between us. There was no doubt about it. I should say something. I
had to
say something.

Right?

His smoldering touch slid down, past my navel, to the soft, cottony band of my panties. Sucking in a reverent breath, he hesitated, fingertips barely hooked beneath the material.

I ached with desperation as he idled, bracing himself on my trembling thigh. “What?” My chest heaved, unrestrained as I met his worried gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“We…we can’t do this,” he ground out, pressing his lips into a thin, bloodless line. The man was on edge. I could feel his restless energy caged in my chest, tortured and pacing—ready to explode.

My pulse hammered over the heater’s bass hum and built in anxious crescendo. “Why not?”

“You know why.”

“But…” I trailed off as the hazy clouds of ecstasy began to lift, letting the first wave of pain reach me. “Wallace, you’re—” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

How ridiculous was that? I couldn’t tell him he was hurting me, because I knew it would hurt him even more.
Stupid, masochistic, lovey-dovey shit.
What was I thinking?

My leg throbbed beneath his possessive grip, and I made an instinctive grab for his hand as dots sprinkled my vision.
Ugh.

“What?” The pressure intensified as he quickly scanned the room, eyes narrowed in misplaced scrutiny. He didn’t even realize he was—

“Ow,” I hissed under my breath. I couldn’t help it.

His eyes widened in sudden, horrified realization, and he ripped his hand away. “Sorry!”

I cringed and moved to sit up, almost overcome by the guilt he was feeling. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll liv—”

“Are you hurt?” His rough voice cracked as he pulled back, looking me over. “Answer me.”

“No.” I reached forward, covering the big, swollen handprint as best I could. “It was just a little uncomfortable for a second, that’s all.”

The torment buried in his eyes resurfaced like an endless pool of regret, and he pushed himself into a sitting position. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Wallace.” I crawled toward him. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” he grumbled, and crossed his arms.