Deadly Desire (Riley Jenson Guardian 7)

"Kye, there's nothing you and I need to talk about. Nothing."

Especially not the heat that simmered between us, nor the fact that he'd saved my life and I now owed him.

I dropped my gaze from his and concentrated instead on rotating my shoulder, trying to ease the stiffness out of it. At least I could move my arm and fingers again, even if the tips still felt a little numb. Given my sensitivity to silver, it was surprising the aftereffects hadn't lasted a whole lot longer. In fact, I felt amazingly strong, and given the blood I'd lost through the wound, that shouldn't have been the case.

"There's something very vital we need to discuss, and you know it."

His voice was flat, yet there was an edge in it that made me glance up at him again. His golden eyes burned with heat and passion, and something else, something else I really couldn't put a finger on. In any other man I would have called it fear, but this man didn't fear. Not anyone or anything.

"I really don't know what you're talking about, Kye."

And yet I did. He was talking about the heat and the lust that still burned. It was a flame that only seemed to be getting stronger the longer we were together. It was as if our bodies were calling to each other, something that neither of us really wanted and yet couldn't fight.

"And you really do need to go," I added. Almost desperately.

"I can't go before I know for sure."

He rose as he said it, and part of me wanted to scoot backward and keep the distance between us.

"There's nothing to know, Kye. Just leave it and go."

"I cant." The words were as desperate as mine. He didn't want this any more than I did, and yet this man-this wolf, who was as cold and as unemotional as any good killer could be-was as helpless against it as I was.

He stopped in front of me and offered me a hand. I ignored it, looking up at him instead. What I saw there-not just heat, not just desire, not even fear, but something stronger, deeper, and far scarier-made my heart stutter and my blood surge.

Because it was nothing less than fate looking out at me from those golden depths.

And suddenly, just like him, I had to know.

I placed my hand in his. He hauled me upright, into his arms. I barely had time to draw a breath against the fire of contact when his lips were on mine, the kiss harsh, fierce, and oh so passionate. The force of it drove me backward, until my back hit the wall. My barely healed shoulder took the brunt of the blow and pain slithered through me. But I didn't care, because it was nothing compared to the ache beginning to assault my body.

His hands were on me, caressing me, nipping me, teasing me. It was all passion, all heat and intensity, and I was drowning in it. Willingly, wantonly, until every bit of me was screaming for the ultimate release, and every muscle, every fiber, was so tightly strung it felt like I would shatter.

He ripped off my bodice, then the G-string. I unbuttoned his pants and shoved them down, every move as urgent as his. His strong hands cupped my butt and hauled me upward. I'd barely wrapped my legs around his waist when he was in me, and God, it was good. More than good.

Because it wasn't just our flesh that became joined.

This was a dance of body and soul, and it went far beyond mere intimacy, far beyond mere pleasure.

This was the moment I'd been waiting most of my life for, yet all I wanted to do was weep.

I didn't want it to be this man. I really didn't.

Then he began to move, and the pain of discovery was ripped away, lost in the glory of the moment. The rich ache grew, becoming a kaleidoscope of sensations that washed through every corner of my mind. Then the shuddering took hold and I gasped, grabbing his shoulders, pulling him toward me, pushing him deeper still. Then everything shattered and it was such a sweet, glorious relief that I wept.

Although most of the tears weren't tears of pleasure or joy.

For several seconds, neither of us moved, our breathing ragged echoes as we stood wrapped around each other. Then I released my grip on his waist and he lowered me to the floor. His expression was as neutral as my mind was chaotic, his golden eyes giving little away. He raised a hand to my face, reaching for but not quite touching my cheek, then dropped it and stepped back.

"So now we know."

"Yes." My voice was clipped. I wanted to stamp my feet and rant and rage-at him, and at fate-but there was absolutely no point. It was no more his fault than it was mine, and there was absolutely nothing either of us could do about it.

"I don't want this."

My laugh was harsh. "And you think I do? For fuck's sake, Kye, you're the last man on this earth that I would ever want to make a life with."

The smile that twisted one side of his lips was bitter. "Ironic, isn't it, that we find the one thing that most wolves spend their lives searching for, and neither of us actually wants it?"