The Evolution of Fae and Gods (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 3)

He goes down and I start to pop up, intent on bringing my knee down onto his chest and putting an elbow to the bridge of his nose, and then I can see if demi-gods bleed black or red.

But Carrick isn’t about to let me attack him further. His arm shoots out as he falls to the floor, hooks around my thigh, and brings me crashing down with him.

Carrick to his back.

Me coming straight down on top of him, in what might be a bizarre twist of fate, has me perfectly aligned on top of his body. My torso to his torso and my face hovering right above his, my hands on his chest, his on my hips.

I’m breathing hard, not just from the physical exertion but from the fact I’m lying on top of Carrick.

Weirdly, Carrick’s chest is moving a bit more rapidly than his placid, under-exerted self was just moments ago.

And those honeyed eyes of his… glowing again. I know now it’s not a trick of the light, but something otherworldly in him that tells me he’s feeling strong emotion.

There’s no rational thinking or pre-planned speech. I react from my gut and my heart as I advise him in the barest of a whisper. “I’m going to kiss you, and if you don’t want it, you better throw me off now.”

Not a muscle twitches on Carrick’s face so I can read what he might be thinking, but a red haze starts to overtake his pupils. I have no clue what that even means, but the gold in his eyes is still gleaming bright, and the fact he hasn’t thrown me off spurs me on.

I bend my head, tilting it slightly, and press my lips against his as my eyes start to flutter closed.

At first, nothing happens. I don’t feel a thrill of pleasure, and his lips stay firmly locked tight. A flicker of doubt hits me, and I even consider pulling away.

But then a low rumble of a growl emits from Carrick’s chest, and I find myself rolled off his body as he changes our places, coming to rest right on top of me. His hand goes behind my head so it doesn’t hit the hard gym floor.

I get just a flash of Carrick’s eyes, and he doesn’t hold back a single thing that’s running through that gorgeous head of his. He lays it all right out in his expression.

Lust, anger, possessiveness, and even regret.

It’s the lust that wins out because Carrick doesn’t just kiss me. No, he takes my mouth and brands it as his. He kisses me hard and deep, and I become a riot of feelings. My head spins because I never knew a kiss could be like this. Perfectly domineering and yet gentle at the same time, the glide of his tongue on mine is the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life. It’s the first taste of an addictive drug, and I know I’ll never in my lifetime get enough.

I’m not embarrassed by the moan that slips free of my mouth and fills his, nor how my hips try to rise upward to touch him.

Which is a mistake because the minute the soft center between my legs presses against the extremely hard, long, and thick ridge between his, Carrick rears back from me like he’s been electrocuted.

I cry out in despair when his mouth leaves mine, and my heart is crushed as I see his eyes darken and go flat.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he rises fluidly to his feet.

I scramble to mine, needing to be on equal footing and braced for the lecture I know I’m going to get.

“We can’t go there, Finley,” he says hoarsely, raking his fingers through his hair in agitation as his hard eyes pin on me.

“We just did,” I point out, my heart still galloping from what almost was.

“I know, and that was my fault—”

“I kissed you, so my fault.”

“I kissed you back,” he grumbles.

“You devoured me, Carrick, and don’t try to act like it wasn’t anything special.” He winces, his gaze dropping to the floor. I’d bet a million dollars Carrick Byrne has never averted his gaze from anyone in his entire life.

I can feel him disconnecting, so I demand. “How did you find me?”

Carrick’s head pops up, and he frowns. “What?”

“How did you find me the night I was at One Bean, two fireballs hurtling my way? How did you know where I was and that I was in danger?”

Jaw locked, Carrick doesn’t answer me, but I don’t need him to. I’ve pondered that over and over again since he rescued me, and I’d already come to a conclusion.

“We have some sort of connection, don’t we?” I ask, moving to stand before him. “Deny it.”

“I can’t,” he admits, but he doesn’t elaborate.

“Then why push me away?” I implore to know, hoping it doesn’t come across as immature and whiny. But I know this is something big. I can feel it in my bones, and I know he feels it too.