Evernight (Darkest London 5)

Forget freedom. Her tongue flickered over the hardening tip, and his h*ps canted in reaction. Forget anything but letting her do as she pleased. Her hands trailed down, smoothing over his skin, leaving a wake of warmth and pleasure in their path. He sighed and craned his head down. “Kiss me,” he nearly begged. He wanted her mouth. Her taste in his. Holly placed a series of light, delicious kisses down the center of his abdomen. “I am.” Were she not torturing him, he would have smiled. As it was, his skin prickled in pleasure, and his abdominal muscles clenched with a sweet ach.

“Do you remember,” she murmured almost conversationally, as she nuzzled and kissed around his navel and over to his hip, “when you asked me if I thought of your c**k when I massaged you?” Her hand skimmed over his length, a light tease that had him twitching. “Yes?” It came out strangled. Carefully, she cupped his cods, and he whimpered. “Every bloody time, love,” she whispered, stroking him. Bless. Her. Slim cool fingers wrapped about him, and almost delicately, she lifted his c**k up, held it just before her lips. From beneath her long, inky lashes, she peered at him. “Do you want me to kiss you here, William?” His c**k pulsed in immediate approval. “To start,” he rasped. She gave him a sly look then bent over him, her midnight hair pooling about his thighs, and his gut clenched in anticipation. She kissed the very tip. He felt it in his heart. Merciful hell but she gave his aching c**k the same attention as she’d done the rest of him, kissing her way down its length and back up again. The tip of her tongue made a slow, languid circuit around his engorged head, and the bed creaked ominously as he tensed. Another lazy lick had him groaning. She kissed him again, almost a suckle but not quit.

“Ah now, love, don’t tease.” It sounded far too much like a plea. The muscles in his arms quivered, his chest aching from the strain, and still he tried to edge lower, tilt his h*ps up enough to follow the brush of her lips. “Put it in your mouth, love,” he whispered, sweating. “Suck me.” She drew him deep into her hot mouth. “Ah, hell.” He strained against the bonds, thrusting helplessly. “Oh, Jesus, yes… Evernight, just… God! Just like that…” He panted as she sucked him harder. The sight of her delicate pink lips around his cock, of her cheeks hollowing as she drew back, had him shaking with restraint. He wouldn’t come, he wouldn’t. The tip of her tongue swirled around his head and licked his slit. He bucked, shouting before he ground his teeth and panted. “Release me.” Sweat dripped down his neck, his heart threatening to lock it pumped so hard. “Let me touch you now. I need to touch you.” With a snap, the metal bonds broke, and his limbs, tingling and throbbing from the sudden freedom, surged forward. On a growl, he wrapped his arms about Holly’s slim frame and tossed her back onto the bed before following her down. His lips caught hers, devouring her mouth as he thrust hard and deep into her heat, his hands roving, touching skin softer than silk. “Lovely, perfect, darling.” He ploughed into her, all speed and frantic need. He could not get enough. And she met him stroke for stroke, undulating against him as he cupped her pert breast and held it firm so that he could draw her tight nipple into his mouth. Good glory but she drove him mad with lust. He licked her like cream, following the pale blue vein that ran up her breast to her neck. Up further to her sweet mouth. Their gazes clashed. Wild tangles of her raven hair spread over the pillow. Her skin was dewy and flushed, and her eyes, dark, pure blue, gleamed up at him. With adoration. For him. The frantic need that had swept him up eased. He stopped, holding himself deep within her. Until she wriggled beneath him, her sex clenching in impatienc.

Will smiled. And so did sh.

“Hello,” he whispered. Her smile turned tremulous. “Hello.” Bracing his forearms on either side of her slim shoulders, Will set a new rhythm. Going slow. So that she would feel every inch of him moving through her. It was agony, but he did not abat.

“You’re so beautiful.” The words burst out of him. “Holly. Petal-mine.” Her eyes glistened. “William.” It was a breath of sound. “The way you make me feel…” She stroked his back, long sweeps that sent ripples of pleasure over his skin. He caught her free hand. Their fingers threaded. “Hold onto me,” he whispered. It shocked him how much it mattered, that she not let go. Her grasp tightened. He swallowed thickly, shivers of heat dancing down his spin.

He barely moved, barely breathed, and yet it felt as though he would come at any moment. Heat gathered in a tight fist that held his cods and had his gut tightening with pleasure-pain. His breath came out like a bellows, and he thrust, slow, hard. Never looking away, Holly wrapped her slim legs about his waist. Her lips parted on an indrawn breath, and the tight clasp of her sex began to milk him as she quietly cam.

He could hold back no longer. He came so hard that he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t mov.

The edges of his sight dimmed as he arched over her, his body locked up and shaking as pleasure rolled through him. Weak as a babe, he relaxed into her embrac.

For the first time in his life, Will knew perfect contentment. Not long ago, there was a time when the Cremorne Gardens would have been filled with light, music, and laughter at night. Now it lay forgotten and abandoned. Dry leaves skittered down the wide boulevard that led to the wrought-iron Chinese pagoda. Adam strolled along, stepping over the cracks in the pavement. Delicate iron archways, once lit up with hundreds of little drop crystal bulbs, now stood dark and creaking against the wind. There was something utterly enchanting about abandoned pleasure parks. If he closed his eyes, Adam could almost hear the ghosts of past laughter, the blaring horns of a trombone played long ago. And though all he could scent now was the moldering of dead leaves and the rot drifting off the nearby Thames, he fancied there was also a bit of roasted chestnuts and the scorch of fireworks lingering like phantoms of yesterday. Once at the pagoda, whose roof had rusted in spots, he sat comfortably upon the top step that led to the pavilion where brass bands used to play. Selecting the top step had been a calculated move, for Miss Eliza May, whom he’d come to think of as the anchor at the end of his chain, was forced to sit upon the step below. She did so without grace, plopping down in a puddle of horrid homespun skirts covered with dried and blackened bloodstains. Adam scowled at the sight. He’d gifted her with heaps of gowns, a rainbow of silks and satins, and she had eschewed them all, preferring to wear the gown she’d died in. Like a taunt. Spine straight, her crown of golden curls facing him, she was silent as usual. And he sighed. A series of wide arches, punctuated by little gas lamps, ringed the pagoda. “They used to dance here.” His voice echoed in the silenc.

“Under the lights. Some nights, there’d be a thousand souls dancing, promenading, laughing in this spot.” Nothing. Not a sound but his own bloody hopeful voic.

“During the days, there’d be equine shows, races. I once lost three thousand quid on a race.” He’d been disguised as a bored and spoiled nob at the tim.

In some ways, losing was more fun for him than winning. He’d paid up, had a laugh with the gents. Just like any other man. Adam resisted the urge to fidget and stared hard at the back of Eliza May’s head. A lone strand of hair, caught by the breeze, danced about on the frayed edge of her bodic.

“Over in the gardens,” he went on conversationally, “they used to have a maypol.

You’ve heard of maypoles?” She was an American, after all. God knew the Yanks were sadly lacking in cultur.

She didn’t mov.

But that was expected. However, he was becoming more adept in reading her, and by the tightness gathering along her pretty, slender neck, he knew she was listening. Perhaps annoyed with his question. “Lasses and lads used to dance around it while holding onto long, colorful ribbons,” he explained, even though he suspected he needn’t. “Up and over, round and round, until they threaded the pol.

I fell in love with a lass dancing around the maypole one May Day.” That got her. The length of her back went rigid. He smiled, but it wasn’t out of pleasur.

The backs of his teeth met as resentment swarmed in. “She was a pretty piece, glossy brown curls and wide, blue eyes. Willing too. But I could not claim her. Because I was searching.” He leaned closer, taking in the scent of Eliza May, of wool, woman, and resentment. “For you.” An inward breath, sharp and stiff, sounded. Eliza in shock? Good. Adam chuckled darkly. “Yes, you. It’s always been for you.” Cursed to search for the one soul that would complete his. “The irony is that I don’t even like you. Seven hundred years I’ve searched, and what do I find? You. Resentful, hateful, and spoilt.” She nearly turned at that jab. Adam wanted to grin but couldn’t. Not when he wanted to shout to the heavens in rag.

Why? Why had they given him her? He’d done his penance, hadn’t he? He’d followed every edict laid before him when he was cursed. And this was what he received? A woman who wouldn’t even look him in the eyes. “Aye, a spoilt child, you ar.

You think I’m so bloody awful?” he ground out. “I’ve fathered countless GIM, given all those souls a new life, new hop.

Have you the slightest inkling of how many lives that has affected? You wouldn’t even be here were it not for m.

No, you’d be rotting in an unmarked grave, forgotten and unavenged. Because the GIM did that for you as well, didn’t they? Striking down those who hurt you. And what thanks do I receive? Silence.” More followed. She’d calmed now. Dug in and found whatever it was that gave her the strength to ignore him. Adam growled and yanked the chain that linked them. Hard. On a cry, she fell back, her elbow hitting the top riser, her body twisting to face him. For one instant, their eyes met. He felt the weight of her wide, brown stare down to his marrow. And something inside of him ached. “You agreed to this,” he ground out. “You agreed to be min.

Mine!” His voice echoed over the emptiness. “And now you act as though you’ve been tricked.” Her gaze narrowed. She glared at him, and though it was progress, for she mostly looked through him, he couldn’t stand it. “I gave you life anew. I look after your every comfort, for all that you ignore it. What do you want of me? What?” He hated the desperation that sharpened his ton.

And perhaps so did sh.

“Freedom.” Adam flinched, so unaccustomed to hearing her voice that he wondered if he’d dreamed it. But she looked back at him, waiting. Freedom. Oh, how very well did he know what it meant to yearn for it. He’d done so for seven hundred years. And now, at the cusp of his, she wanted the one thing that would snatch it away? She, who’d done nothing for him. She who’d agreed to his terms and then instantly sought to go back on them. Like a coward. His nostrils flared. Cold night air burned down his throat. He leaned closer, until they were nearly nose to nos.

“No.” Her expression wiped clean. As quickly and thoroughly as if his answer was a door shutting upon her. Then she was looking through him once more, as if he weren’t ther.

And he wanted to roar, pound the rotting floorboards to dust, grab hold of her and make her acknowledge him once mor.

He didn’t do any of those things. He was a near god among lesser supernaturals. He did not beg or rail. Nor, he reflected bitterly, did he hurt women. Instead he cut her off for once, turning his attention to the night sky, ignoring her completely. He had business to attend to. A moment later, Darby appeared before them in a swirl of shadows. “Yes?” Adam took a deep breath. He had to calm. “How goes it with Evernight and Thorne?” He had to give Darby some credit; the man did not cower as he faced Adam and answered truthfully. “They are no longer the concern of the Alamut.” Adam clenched his shaking fists. Another deep breath. “You let them go.” “Yes.” “When I specifically ordered you to keep them captive.” Darby’s expression might as well have been carved from marbl.

“While I may have entered a devil’s bargain with you, the Alamut are not bound to do your duty. They are now loyal to Mab. I could not persuade them to do your bidding over hers.” Darby had to know that refusal to comply would seal his fat.

“You,” Adam ground out, “ought to have asked your brothers-in-arms to kill you.” “Then I would not have had the pleasure of seeing your face when I told you that Thorne and Evernight were free.” The man had a set of brass balls. Adam nearly laughed at the thought. Only Thorne was out in the world, and Mab was likely moving in for the kill. Perhaps she already had. And damn it all, Adam did not know what her next move would b.

“Well then,” Adam said with forced levity, “now you’ve seen it.” With that, he lashed out with his power, stopping Darby’s heart in an instant. Darby fell to the ground, gasping for air. “Sad, really,” Adam said. “I would have let you go after this.” Then he called forth another. In the next breath, Lucien appeared, scowling and irritated. “Putain, but I hate when you summon me in this manner.” With crisp jerks, he pulled at the lace cuffs peeking out from his blue satin frock coat. “Why not send a note like a civilized creature—” He sucked in a sharp breath as he caught sight of Darby writhing upon the ground. Lucien went pal.

Which was odd considering Stone had been a cold killer in his youth. “Concentrate, Ston.

He is not your concern.” Lucien jerked at the sound of Adam’s voice and glanced at him. “You…” He cleared his throat. “What is it?” “Find William Thorne and Holly Evernight and bring them to me.” Lucien glanced at the shifter upon the ground, and a spasm lit along his narrow cheek. “And this one? Shall I…” He cleared his throat again. “Shall I dispose of him?” “If you wish.” Adam waved an idle hand. “Hurry along. Time is of the essence.”