Hallowed Night: A Halloween Romance Anthology, page 26
“Will you do something crazy with me?” he whispers.
“Okay.” No hesitation.
I’ve barely spoken the word when he threads his hand with mine. His thumb brushes over mine. He pulls me around so we face the same direction, and my breath catches. I know what’s going to happen a split second before we do it.
Call it intuition, or a lucky guess.
Whatever it is, there’s no stopping us.
He has a tight grip on my hand, and he draws me forward. I clutch his fingers and run with him—it’s do or die with the way the waves crash against the rocks—and then we jump. We travel farther than I would’ve by myself, and the wind shrieks past my ears. Or maybe it’s my own scream pouring out of me. My hair rips loose from the crown of braids and whips my face.
I only have a second to inhale sharply and hold it, then I’m engulfed by icy water. I panic and thrash, fighting gravity, until I can regain control over myself.
His hand never releases mine, but he doesn’t let me shoot back up. He squeezes twice.
Under the water, I open my eyes and look over at him. The saltwater stings my eyes, and he’s rather blurry. We’re pushed backward as a wave rolls over us, then out to sea with its withdrawal. At least we’re momentarily safe from being slammed against the rock.
My heartbeat is the only thing I can hear.
He grins in the dark water. The faintest illumination of the moon finds us and reflects off his teeth. And then he nods—at least, I think he does.
We kick to the surface, moving farther out into the ocean. Cool air hits my face, and I gulp in a lungful of air. My body quakes with leftover adrenaline and a wicked chill. My mask is soaked, plastered to my face, and I rip it down. It hangs around my neck, loose, and I wipe the water from my eyes.
He mirrors my movement with one hand, dropping his mask and shaking his head. Water droplets fly everywhere.
I splash at him. “What the fuck was that?”
He grins, unfazed. “Elora Whitlock. This is a surprise.”
I kick to remain above the water and eye him. The recognition comes quickly, as fast as the knowledge that he was going to drag me over the edge.
“Saint Hart,” I answer. I tug my hand from his grip and put more space between us.
My face heats.
Of course we went to school together. Sterling Falls Academy. Of course he had been one of those mysterious, loner artistic kids from East Falls, the sort that every girl secretly has a crush on. I was no exception to that.
I just got fixated on him, and not in a healthy way.
He’s from the wrong side of the tracks—literally, in my case. West and East never mingled. We have our forests, and they have their cliffs. Like the one we just took a plunge off of.
It occurs to me that this might’ve been another test from Hades. A way to poke and prod at my mettle or to hunt for weaknesses. It could also be a message. We know you. I don’t like that, either.
We all have secrets, and Hades just informed me that he knows mine.
Saint swims closer to me. “What are you afraid of? Me?”
I shove at his shoulder. “The only reason I’m not more pissed at you is because I left my phone in my car.” With the cash Hades gave me. The car keys are stashed behind one of the tires. Not my finest trick, but better than carrying everything all night.
Besides, it’s false bravado.
I’m not afraid but alarmed.
“You weren’t one of the fighters.” I’m guessing, because I don’t really know.
“I wasn’t.” He grips my waist and hauls me against him.
My hands automatically find his shoulders, and our legs tangle. Another wave looms, and he presses his lips to mine just as it breaks over our heads. My lungs immediately ache.
For a moment, I feel nothing but the heat at my lips and the way we’re being carried swiftly sideways. We surge up, breaking the surface, and Saint’s kiss turns rougher. I inhale sharply, and his tongue slides along the seam of my lips. I open for him. He tastes like saltwater. When his teeth tug at my lower lip, I groan.
The water doesn’t feel so cold now. My blood is practically boiling.
He releases me. “Let’s go.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Huh?”
He swims away.
It takes me a second to process, then I follow after him. I’m not the fastest swimmer, and it seems to take ages to fight the current. We go around the point of the cliff and into that little inlet. It’s darker here, and I resist the urge to squeak in fear.
I breathe through it instead.
Saint glances back at me and treads water.
I catch up eventually, the calmer water easier to navigate, and he points.
There’s a metal ladder bolted to the cliff face. Glow sticks are strung to the bottom of it, and then every few feet onward. It goes… all the way to the top.
Fucking hell.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He smirks. “I thought you liked this sort of thing.”
Adrenaline is the only thing keeping me from backing away. The fight took a lot of energy, and I’m riding a high right now. The alcohol helped a little, too. Later, I’m sure I’ll crash and burn. But now isn’t the time for that.
I eye Saint. He seems… different. In high school, I wouldn’t have pegged him as an adrenaline junkie—if I can even define this as that. I wouldn’t have thought I’d end up here, either. I let myself drift closer to him and try to picture how the hell this is going to work.
We’re lifted by another smaller wave, and the water against the rock rises, as well. It doesn’t matter. The ladder keeps going down, into the dark depths beneath us.
“Ready?”
I make a face. “Not really.”
He shrugs. “It’s either this or swim three miles north…”
Great.
“I wish I knew that before we jumped,” I mutter. But I get into position anyway, lining myself up with the ladder. There’s no chance in hell I’m letting Saint abandon me here.
“Go,” he urges.
The swell picks me up. The sound of rushing water surrounds me. Four feet away, then two. My feet touch the rock, and I stretch up, gripping the metal. White-capped water tugs at me, but I drag myself up a few rungs.
I glance back at Saint, who’s barely visible bobbing in the shadows.
He comes in as soon as I’m secure, grabbing a rung and hauling himself up. The foamy water sprays my legs again, and I shiver. We’re soaking wet, and the night air is frigid.
He climbs up beside me. “That was fun.”
I shake my head and ascend ahead of him. It wasn’t fun—it was reckless. And each step I take pulls at my already sore body.
I make it to the top and roll over the ledge, flopping on my back. My chest heaves, and my muscles tremble. Saint falls to the grass beside me a moment later, and we both stare at the clear sky.
“Was that enough of a thrill?” I ask him eventually.
He lets out a loud exhale. “Jumping wasn’t nearly as much as kissing you.” He twists onto his side and rises on an elbow so he can see my face. “Or seeing you fight.”
I glance away.
He reaches out carefully and touches my lower lip. It hurts from being split open earlier. He shows me the red on the pad of his finger. “Tasted a bit of that. I want to taste it again.”
I run my finger up his arm. “Do it, then.”
Saint doesn’t need more prompting. His hand comes up behind my neck and lifts me toward him. Our lips meet.
I taste the blood now, too, and my body tingles. His thumb rubs a circle just under my ear. I nip his lower lip, sharp enough to elicit a groan from his throat. Hard enough to make him bleed, too.
He presses harder into the kiss, lowering me back to the grass. His tongue prods the split in my lip. The metallic taste is on both our lips, mixed with saltwater.
We shouldn’t be doing this.
I shouldn’t be kissing a stranger—even if I think I know him.
I push him back slightly, and he easily flops onto his back beside me again. Our breathing is ragged.
He exhales. “Let’s find clothes, shall we?”
He doesn’t wait for my answer. Instead, he hops up. He grips my hands and pulls me to my feet, eyeing me with a weird expression. He doesn’t release one of my hands, either.
I’m freaked out by his casualness. By his willingness to stay with me.
We slip back into Olympus unseen and go into the training room. There isn’t much here, though, and I turn back to face him.
Just in time for his wet shirt to smack me in the face.
I grab it and gape. Who knew Saint Hart was hiding washboard abs all these years? I mean, damn. And, even more shocking, he’s covered in tattoos. His chest, all the way down into the waistband of his pants. The inked sleeves stop mid-forearm.
“You might not’ve been such a loner if you took your shirt off more,” I breathe.
He laughs. He tears the mask from his neck and drops it to the floor, then kicks off his shoes. His hands go to the button of his pants. “Trick or treat?”
I roll my eyes, but on the inside? Slightly dying of mortification. “Just because it’s Halloween doesn’t mean you have to be corny.”
He grins. “Take off your clothes, Elora.”
“Nyx,” I automatically correct.
“Goddess of the night.” His gaze sweeps up and down me. “Why did you pick that?”
I shrug, unwilling to get into the details. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”
He pushes his jeans down and steps out of them. His black boxers are stuck to his legs. My cheeks heat, but I don’t look away from him. We’re out of reach of each other, but I feel like his gaze is a touch all its own.
“What do you want, Nyx?” Saint circles around me.
I shiver.
What do I want?
I told Hades I wanted more.
But more… what?
The lights go out, plunging us into darkness.
And, inexplicably, here is where I find my courage. But it feels right, too. Everything is clicking into place. The fight, the bruises that pulse with pain, the water droplets on my skin. The cold night air and the darkness and all my fear and hope… it all binds together.
“I want you.”
5
9:45PM
Rebirth.
That’s what I imagine is happening to me.
Saint is a lucky coin toss. A shot in the dark from Hades, a more he might not have even known I needed. A favor from the gods, as they said. I didn’t know what I was going to get when I asked for more.
Maybe I would’ve said, if pressed, more nights like this.
I strip off my shirt and sports bra. My boldness might be my undoing, but I toss the wet fabric away from me and smile at the smack of it hitting the tile. I shove my leggings off and kick them away, too, then spin toward where Saint last was.
I reach out and step forward, my fingers leading the way.
They touch cool, wet skin. I shiver. The darkness seems to heighten my other senses. Our breathing, my pounding heart. The chill in the air.
A hand runs along my forearm, tracing up to my shoulder. It moves farther back, curling around my neck.
We don’t speak, but his ragged breathing belies his excitement. Mine mirrors his, I’m sure. He pulls me closer to him, and my arm folds in. My bare chest brushes his, and he inhales sharply. I lean forward and kiss his chest, then up. His collarbone. His throat. His pulse hammers just under the surface, and I dart my tongue out to taste the mix of saltwater and sweat. I explore him with my touch, trying to get a better sense of him.
His hand remains curled at the back of my neck, and his other glides down my side. I reach his jaw. He lets out a quiet groan when I suck his earlobe into my mouth and bite. He shifts his hips forward, and his hard length presses into my hip.
He grips my hair suddenly and pulls, directing my mouth to his.
Our lips touch again, and I’m a goner.
There’s an ache in my chest that hasn’t been there all day. It’s akin to the anxiety I would feel walking into school every morning, but now I long for something that’s right in front of me.
He nips my lower lip, reopening the cut, but the taste of blood only spurs him on. We clash frantically. He lowers me down until my back hits the mat. I have an out-of-body experience where I swear I can see us, like a bird’s-eye view, before I snap back into myself. I never would’ve guessed I’d be here tonight, with Saint, experiencing… this.
I have a confession to make.
I’ve lusted over Saint for too many years. All through school. I haven’t seen him since we graduated. Haven’t seen… anyone, really. Elora Whitlock likes it that way.
But Nyx has a different opinion.
Saint shifts again and nudges my legs open. His lips leave mine, and he moves down my body. He presses reverent kisses to my skin. He cups my breast, and I arch off the floor. He brushes his thumb over my nipple. I huff, trying to hold on to my composure. And then his mouth… his tongue. His teeth. Lightning strikes in my mind, obliterating everything else.
He travels farther down, pausing at my panties. I’d forgotten about them.
I stare up, unable to see even an inch in front of my face.
The rip startles me.
His breath against my core is another surprise.
Then it isn’t just his breath but his tongue, and I jolt. My thighs tense, and he grips my hips to keep me in place. I’m not allowed to retreat, although every move has me fighting the urge to say something.
Whether to beg him to continue or stop, I haven’t decided.
He latches on to my clit and sucks.
I buck against his face and tip my head back. My mouth opens in a silent moan, and I lose it when he thrusts two fingers inside me. I groan through my orgasm, clenching around him.
Fuck. I’d give anything to see his face right now.
And then he’s shifting, climbing back up my body, and he whispers, “You taste fucking amazing.”
Well, damn, if that’s not the hottest thing to come out of his mouth.
And then he nudges my legs wider and aligns himself. I grasp his biceps.
He pauses, waiting. His muscles tremble slightly.
Oh. He’s bare. I might be insane, but I don’t give a shit. This thing between us is raw, so why can’t the sex be raw, too? And perhaps in the most heroic move, he’s waiting for permission.
“Saint,” I say as evenly as possible. Still, my voice is breathy. “If you don’t fuck me right now…”
“Thank fuck.” He slams into me.
He fills me completely, larger than I anticipated, and I dig my nails into his arms. With the spike of pleasure is a bite of pain. He stills for a moment, then slowly withdraws. He thrusts back into me just as hard. My body slides up the mat.
I find his face and pull him down to kiss him again.
He fucks me like he wants to torture me. Slow and steady. I rise to meet him. Lock my ankles behind his ass. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, tasting me. I taste… myself. I’m on his lips and tongue.
I bite his lip hard enough to draw blood.
Fair is fair.
It unlocks something in him.
Some of that savagery he was talking about earlier.
It’s okay—on another level, I know I want this however he gives it to me. It’s exhilarating to be all-in without knowing the destination. To be so utterly lost without a care.
He slips his hand between us and rubs my clit. The combination is too much, and I gasp when another climax hits me. He hisses a groan in my ear, his face beside mine, until my limbs relax.
And then he pulls out of me abruptly and sits back. He pulls me with him. It takes a moment to orient myself again in the darkness, and I curl my legs.
“Tap if you’ve had enough,” he warns. He sounds higher than me now.
“What—”
The head of his cock touches my lips.
Ah.
Another pulse hits my core, and I open my mouth. He’s still tracing my lips, taking his time. I dart my tongue out, tasting him. Fuck, he’s huge.
“You’re going to swallow every last drop,” he groans.
I raise my hands and tentatively hold on to his thighs just as he pushes into my mouth. I open wide and let him infiltrate me, suppressing my gag reflex. He pulls out slowly, then back in. So deep he hits the back of my throat.
I suck around him, my tongue swirling. He hisses out a breath. I don’t know why that sound undoes me, but it unleashes something wilder in me. I reach up and cup his balls.
His fingers slide into my wet hair, holding my head still.
“My control is gone.”
I squeeze his leg with my free hand. Just do it, I’d say, if my mouth wasn’t full of him.
I’m too turned on by this to care that before today, we haven’t spoken more than a handful of words. And even today, we haven’t said anything all that meaningful.
Does it matter?
It’s a night.
It’s a thrill.
He fucks my mouth until I can’t breathe, and tears stream down my cheeks. I hold his legs and refuse to tap out, high on the adrenaline rush. I suck blindly and focus on not gagging, and then he stills. His fingers tighten in my hair. His cock jerks, and his seed spills down my throat. I swallow around him, and when he retreats, I lick my lips.
This is probably one of the wildest things I’ve done.
The whole night, but this tops it.
“Is your phone in here?” His voice is low.
“No.”
He grunts.
The lights above us buzz, then slowly flicker back on. Weird freaking timing, if you ask me, but I don’t comment on it. It could be… I don’t know. Faulty wiring in this old building? The grand opening of Olympus is bound to have some kinks that need to be worked out.
I stand and rub the back of my hand across my mouth. Saint climbs to his feet, too, and my gaze automatically drops to his cock.
Yep, about as big as my imagination warranted. My cheeks heat.
He smirks and saunters forward, brushing a lock of my hair away from my face. It’s still wet, half-contained in the slipping braids, but he tucks the piece behind my ear anyway.
