With her
eyes and her heart heavy, she turned down the gravel
drive and trudged towards her apartment. She kicked a
small rock and sent it flying. Absently, she lowered her
gaze, watched as it came to a stop a few inches away.
Kicked it again. Again—
A pair
of booted foot appeared in her line of vision and a hand
caught her arm. Hissing out a breath, she reacted
instinctively, jabbing towards the neck with her free
hand and lifted her foot. But before she could smash it
down on the man’s instep, he moved.
Moved
too quick—
She
found herself whirled around, her back pressed up
against a hard male body. Panic welled.
“Ana!”
That
voice—
She
stilled, sucked in a breath. As she did, the panic
inside her started to ease, her body relaxed, before she
even realized why.
She
could smell him…and she knew that smell.
Licking
her lips, she whispered, “Duke?”
He let
her go, quick, as though he couldn’t stand to have his
hands on her, and she figured he probably couldn’t.
Instinctively, she tightened her shields, unwilling to
pick anything up from him. Even if she deserved to have
his disgust with her filling her head, she’d rather not,
thanks very much. Edging away, she turned and looked at
him.
The
sight of him hit her straight in her core, a punch of
heat that left her legs weak and her skin tight and
itchy. She let go of her carryon and folded her arms
across her middle. “What are you doing here?”
“Whatever in the hell the problem is, it isn’t
important enough to keep you from taking off for a
weekend?” He glanced down at the carryon and then up at
her face.
Ana
narrowed her eyes. “You’re the damn Hunter, not me.
Playing avenging angel, guardian angel, that’s
your business, not mine.” Exhaustion, unrequited
lust, and fear were sheer hell on a person’s willpower,
she realized, clamping her mouth shut before she could
say anything else.
“So you
got no problem announcing that there’s a problem, but
then disappearing?”
“You
told me to handle it myself, if I recall correctly.” She
almost said something else, but decided it against it.
Almost told him that she’d tried and utterly failed. It
didn’t matter. He was here now, he could handle it.
Hooray for him. No reason for her to sink another
couple hundred dollars into this mess, no reason to take
off personal time and try to handle something that was
way beyond her reach, no reason to lay awake at night,
afraid to sleep because she feared the nightmares.
Let him
deal with this bullshit. That’s what he was supposed to
do.
Aren’t you feeling bitchy today?
she thought darkly. Without another word, she grabbed
the handle of her carryon and headed towards the
staircase by the garage door.
“Yeah,
taking off when things get dicey, that’s your way of
handling things,” he said, sardonically, following along
behind her.
Too
close, too. She could feel him, feel that big, warm
body, the heat he put off, shadowing along close enough
that he just lifted a hand, he’d touch her. Halfway the
steps, she stopped and shot him a narrow look over her
shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Following you. What are you doing?”
“I’m
going to my apartment. I’m tired. I want to take a
shower and go to bed.”
He
glanced over her shoulder towards the door at the top of
the stairs. “Sorry, princess but you go some explaining
to do before you can go to bed.”
“Explaining.” Ana sighed and then started back up the
steps. She’d already tried explaining to him and he’d
mocked her, laughed at her. Told her to handle it
herself and she’d tried, failed miserably, and now he
was here. Hell, that had likely been his plan all
along—get her worked up and then show up in the flesh
and save the day.
Of
course, she doubted he really would have expected her to
actually try to handle it. Abruptly, she
was pissed.
Not just
irritated, not just tired and grouchy, and not just edgy
because she felt so damned guilty for what she’d done to
him. She’d made huge mistakes in her life, but damn it,
she’d done her best to rectify them and she was sick and
damned tired of having to pay for it in their eyes.
Seething, she stormed up the rest of the stairs and
jammed her key into the lock, undoing the lock with a
vicious twist of her wrist.
He
followed her inside and she shot him a dirty look as he
dropped down on the couch, settling down with lazy,
feline grace.
“Make
yourself at home,” she drawled. She left the carryon by
the door and shut it, turning the lock on the doorknob
and then the deadbolt.
“Those
locks suck,” he said, flicking a glance at her door.
“I’ll
make a note of it.” Crossing her arms over her chest,
she glared at him. “Whatever you need me to explain,
fine. Ask away so I can explain and get your ass out of
my home.”
A grin
curled his lips. “Ana, you’re swearing. What’s got you
so pissed?”
“I’m not
pissed,” she lied.
“You
know, even if you did do some kind of number on my
instincts, I don’t know why in the hell I ever fell for
any of your lines,” he mused, shaking his head. “You’re
a lousy liar.”
“I
didn’t hand you lines.” Then she wished
she hadn’t said a damn thing. The last thing she needed
to do was think about ancient history, not when he was
here. Not when he was so close. Not when he could
smell every subtle change in her body, whether it was
because she told a little white lie, or because her body
went all hot and achy with need, getting worse with very
damn second he was there.
“Sure
you did.” He came off the couch and paced towards her,
that big, hard body all fluid, sexy grace and long,
powerful muscles. His golden hair fell around his face
and his gray eyes glittered in the dim light. “You fed
me all sorts of lines and then I get a knife shoved into
my chest and I wake up and find out the pretty blonde
princess who had me twisted up inside was the puppet of
a fucking psycho. Maybe that’s the difference…when
somebody’s pulling your strings you do just as you’re
told. Did Cat tell you to get hot for me? Is that why
you seemed to want me so bad?”
Stop it. Duke stared at her, watched as the blood drained from her
face, leaving her pale, her haunted, dark purple eyes
all but black. Stop.
Cat was
dead. She didn’t fucking matter any more and if Ana was
any kind of threat to them, every single last Hunter
around would know. She’d be watched—or already dead.
She wasn’t a threat and he knew it. At least not
that kind of threat. Not any more.
The kind
of threat she posed to him was a different
story, but one didn’t really have anything to do with
the other.
She’d
screwed up and even Duke wasn’t so blind to the fact
that she had tried to make amends. She was guilty,
never claimed otherwise, didn’t offer excuses or any
other lame shit to try and help explain away what she’d
done. Even the more plausible reason—her fear for her
brother, she never used that card.
If it
was anybody but Ana, he probably even could have found
some reluctant admiration.
But with
Ana…
Even as
he told himself to stop, to back away, find out what he
needed to know and get the hell away from her, he
couldn’t. Even as he lifted a hand to touch her,
curling it around her neck and tugging her close, he
told himself to quit and he couldn’t. “No answer, Ana?”
he whispered, rubbing his thumb across her full lower
lip.
Let it go—none of that matters.
Except
it did. It did matter, why she’d all but
melted in his arms, melted around him, over him, so
damned hot she’d almost burned him. Had she really
wanted him? Or had it been because she had psycho-bitch
pulling her strings? How deep had Cat’s control on Ana
gone?
She
shook, her body all but vibrating. She was afraid, he
could scent it on her, but it wasn’t just fear. His
lids drooped over his eyes, a growl rumbling in his
chest, as he realized he had his answer right there.
Ana
didn’t have to say a damn thing.
She
wanted him. All but burned with it.
It was
enough to make his mouth water and his cock swell.
Enough to make him want to haul her against him and
finish the dance they’d started five years earlier. He
didn’t, though. Because of her fear. He didn’t like her
being afraid of him. Heat—he just wanted to smell heat
coming off of her, just the desire.
“You’re
hot now,” he whispered, lowering his head until his lips
hovered just a breath away from hers. “I can smell it,
almost taste it. Why are you so hot, princess?”
“Leave
me alone, Duke.”
He
should. He knew he should. He needed to back away, get
the hell away from her, before the anger took control,
before the hunger burning inside him flared too hot for
him to handle, before it spilled out onto them and
scorched them both. Inside, he dipped his head and
nuzzled her neck, breathed in the soft, warm scent of
her. She smelled of lavender, soft and subtle,
something that clung to her hair and skin.
“You
know something that’s eaten me up for the past five
years?” he whispered, raking his teeth along the curve
of her neck. “Five years ago, I had you this close…this
close to heaven and I would have done just about
anything to get inside you. This close…and then I
realize I’m closer to hell than I am to heaven—and I
never even had the chance to fuck you. If you were
going to send me to hell, Ana, you could have at least
given me a send-off.”
“Duke...don’t.”
“Why
not?” He straightened, staring down at her averted
face. He toyed with the top button of her shirt and
wondered what she’d do, how she’d react if he bent his
head and tore the buttons off with his teeth. “Why
shouldn’t I touch you? You want me. You can’t lie
about that.”
She
reached up and caught his wrist and shoved him away.
He let
her, although he was tempted not to. And when she
stepped back, he let her, even though he didn’t want
to. “Why shouldn’t I touch you?” he asked again, his
voice low, harsh with the hunger tearing into him.
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