Shifters’ Fae Captive by Lacey Carter Andersen
Chapter 14
Ann
While the othersstay around the firepit in the center of the massive cavern, Dusk leads me away from them, up the steps along the walls of the cave, where he says it’ll be safer from the Void and the creatures that took me. I don’t argue because, even though it isn’t fully dark yet, and I suspect he isn’t as worried about the Void as he is about the other men, he looks exhausted. And for some reason, I don’t want to be the reason he looks so tired and worried.
Besides, if he really wants me inside the cave, he can put me there and likely make sure I never leave. As cool as all my new powers seem to be, they wouldn’t exactly stop a giant like him from forcing me to stay somewhere. Although I doubt he would actually do that. Not so long as he thinks there’s a chance we’ll all be mating soon. And also, because I actually think he seems to be a nice person.
So, for now, I guess I’ll take their protection, whether I really need it or not.
We stop outside a cave with a curtain across the front for privacy. “Onyx is inside,” Dusk says, then casts a glance back the way he came. “Do you need anything else?”
I shake my head, push back the curtain, and walk in.
As my eyes adjust to the lack of light inside the cave, a blanket rustles and a man moans. Onyx. He had eaten a little with the others, then came back inside, a pained expression on his face.
He’s still healing. Even though he’d acted like he was all better. He’d had a deep and round wound. My touch might have removed the evidence of his injury, but I’m sure there was damage I couldn’t see.
Even some of the most powerful fae healers didn’t have the power to heal an injury like that all at once, so I doubt I could either.
But in small bursts, so long as he doesn’t get wild and reinjure himself, and my abilities don’t wither and I don’t end up married to the Shadow King, I should hopefully just keep getting stronger and better at all of this.
Going to the smaller fire inside the cave, I stir the embers, brightening the cave, and put more logs on it, along with kindling. Within a few seconds, it’s definitely brighter. At least bright enough to see each other.
“Are you hurting?” I mouth to Onyx.
He lifts a brow, but doesn’t even try to communicate back.
“Do you always have to be a stubborn ass?”
His expression is one of surprise for a few seconds before it’s blank once more.
“You know, for a guy who keeps trying to get me to mate him, or whatever, you’re not exactly being very nice. I mean, I don’t know how dating and courting works where you’re from, but where I’m from guys try to be nice at the very least. But also romantic too.”
He doesn’t react, but he shifts, and then I see the pained look that shoots across his face.
Guilt eases some of my frustration. “You know, it’s okay to hurt. You can tell me.”
I go to sit beside him on his pile of blankets. It’s much softer than it looks, and the blankets are plush beneath Onyx. He stares up at me, and I reach out to put my hand on his chest. The wound on his back is closed. Whatever injury is left is inside now.
“I’m going to try to heal you a little more.”
He catches my hand, his expression unreadable.
“Trust me, okay?”
After a second, he releases me.
So, I look down at his expansion of perfect skin. I concentrate on the big man. His breathing is low and slow. Almost, calm. But I didn’t imagine the look of pain on his face, nor do I think he’d be laying down right now if he was feeling one hundred percent back to his old self before the injury.
His skin is surprisingly warm. And kind of nice. Hard and defined and really sexy, if I’m being honest with myself. For a second, I’m distracted, and sorely tempted to run my hand over those big muscles of his. He’s made it clear that he thinks becoming his mate is essential, so I’m kind of tempted to see how he reacts to me touching him. But he’s also made it clear that he doesn’t really want me as his mate.
With Phantom and Dusk, I can tell they find me attractive and like the idea of me being with them. With Onyx, I almost feel like he sees this situation as something he can’t escape from, and so has accepted that we have to be together. Like an arranged marriage to someone he finds irritating.
It makes me push away the thought of touching him romantically. The last thing I want to do is cross some line with him and have him no longer trust me to heal him.
“Okay, time to work,” I whisper to myself.
Then, I focus on my hand and my desire to heal. The desire flows through me, and my light begins to glow brighter and brighter. I let out a slow breath, glad the ability is still there, and working, then I’m surprised when he actually covers my hand with his own. The glow spreads light over his face, and it’s like I’m staring at an angel. He looks up at me and smiles.
It’s the first time he’s smiled at me. He’s breathtaking. More so in the golden glow of my hands.
I am mesmerized. Maybe hypnotized. But captivated in a way I barely remember anymore. I’ve only felt this way once before, and it feels as if it was a thousand years ago.
Unable to help myself, I lean closer to press my mouth to his. Even if I wanted to stop myself, there’s no way I could resist him. It’s like the pool of the moon and the waves.
Unstoppable.
As we kiss, as I feel the fullness of his lips, the gentle caress of his thumb on my cheek, the murmur of his breath on my skin. I’m as intoxicated as if I spent a night shooting tequila. Desire flows through me, making my inner muscles clench, and heat pool at my core.
He sits up and angles his body so the only thing holding me up is his arm. He doesn’t make a sound as he lowers me onto the blanket, but somehow, we’ve turned and his body is stretched beside mine. Or I’m stretched beside him, but he’s leaning over me, hand splayed on my belly.
I’ve never been kissed with such utter possession of my body and soul. This guy uses every square inch of himself to brand me, to claim me, to make me want to be claimed.
When I kiss him back, I surrender. There’s no point in fighting what I feel. No point in denying what I want from him. From them. Because now I have to accept that whatever this is, it does feel like a mate bond. It does feel like something more than love or lust.
And I like it.
Because it feels right. Because it feels like I can’t possibly be making the wrong choice. Being with a mate isn’t a choice, it’s a need. An impossible connection that can’t be ignored.
My fingers curl into his hair, massage his scalp as the kiss goes on and on. A melding of our mouths that burns through my body.
Because my body is now acting independently of what my brain would tell it to do, my leg hikes over his hip and the hard length of him hits me just right, and I suck in a sharp breath, my head spinning. I hold myself against him and pull back just a little when heat flows through my body. I bite my lip, absorbing the feel of this gorgeous man against me, reveling in every sensation, every touch and breath.
A whimper slips from my lips, because I want more than this. I need more.
I pull him down for another kiss and align our hips once more as his hand glides up and under the hem of my shirt, warm against my stomach, and I want him the way I haven’t wanted anyone since Rayne.
At the thought of him, I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I tear my mouth away and the tears come, unbidden, unchecked, unwanted but painful. Rayne. My Rayne. And here I am kissing another man, holding him, being held by him.
A sob warbles out, followed by another and another until I’m crying into his shoulder, blubbering, and it has nothing to do with him, but my sign language isn’t good enough to convey that to him.
Onyx pulls back and tilts my chin toward him then uses his thumb to dry my eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Of all the things I could’ve said, I go for the lamest, most pathetic. I don’t know why I’m crying or if I should be sorry or how to make him understand my reaction has nothing to do with him, only my broken heart.
“I didn’t mean to… do this.” I motion between us, and he smiles softly. “It’s just… I miss Rayne.” He cocks his eyebrow, and I know what he wants. “Rayne was my mate. I loved him, but he was… killed. And now, I’m here.”
He nods like he understands and whether he does or not, I’m staring into the eyes of a man who cares enough to pretend he does and that means something to me.
When he bends and kisses the spot on my chest over my heart then pulls back and smiles softly as he strokes my face, my heart lightens. He does understand, and for as long as it lasts, I’m going to lay my head on his chest while his arms encircle my shoulders, and I’m going to enjoy it. Because when I lost my Rayne, I had no one. No one to heal my broken heart. And in a strange way, it makes sense that this big, sulking man might be the one to help me.
Even if I still can’t accept him as my mate. Not yet.
