A Wicked Desire (Creatures of Darkness 3), page 27
“Well?” Knox turned back to Cora. “Would you?”
“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” Cora said. “I get that you’re angry, but you’re really starting to piss me off.”
“Really? You looked pretty damn gleeful to me.”
“Yeah, you’re right, this is my gleeful face.” She shoved her palm into his shoulder. Whether it was his solid mass of muscle or the numerous drinks she’d had, or the combination, she stumbled back instead. Catching her footing, she straightened her spine. “You’re such a jerk!”
“Why, because you hit like a girl?”
“No,” she reapplied. “And I do not.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Am not. And so what if I am?”
“Turn my back for a second and you’re ready to bond another hapless male to you.”
“Was not! I came down to find you so we could talk about what happened, but you were giving me the death stare, so I decided to try and salvage the evening and forget what a fucking disaster tonight was. But you couldn’t just leave me be. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” She moved to push him again, but her depth perception seemed to be off-kilter. She nearly toppled forward, catching herself before she fell straight into him. Or maybe Knox had caught her. She blinked. His hands were tight on her shoulders, holding her steady.
All at once, the alcohol seemed to hit her brain like a wave of soldiers going to battle. The room spun.
“Whoa,” she said, grabbing her head.
An instant later, her world flipped upside down, and she found herself staring at Knox’s back, her body slung over his shoulder. “I can see I’m going to have to make sure you don’t get up to any more mischief tonight.”
“I can walk, you-you dumb ox man.”
“I just saw evidence to the contrary.”
She proceeded to slam her fists into his back repeatedly. “Let me down, you caveman!”
“I’m loving the intellectual insults tonight.”
“You’re an intellectual insult!” Oh, goddess, she hit a new low.
To her humiliation, he carried her like that all the way to their room, ignoring her protests and the odd looks from passersby, who, she noted with resentment, did nothing to try to help her. A group of women even giggled as they passed. They probably thought this was some sort of kinky fantasy she and Knox were playing out.
She was still pounding his back as he entered their room and bound up the stairs, because what else could one do in this situation?
Inside their room, he set her on her feet. Minimal wobbling, she was proud to declare.
Before she could snap out another caustic insult, his lips came down on hers in a rough kiss.
She registered the thick muscle of his arm snaking around her waist, clutching her tight. Almost too tight. The kiss turned hard, punishing, like he was trying to warn her he was on the edge. And yet, her every sense sank into a dark pool of desire.
Her response was instantaneous.
She opened her mouth, inviting him in. Their tongues met, and this too turned into a battle of sorts, slick with sparring. Hot, wet sparring. When she bit his lip, he growled and kissed her harder, shoving into her mouth and growling as he did. Her nails dug into his shoulders.
His aura was menacing, singed by lust and anger. A part of her thrilled at the fierceness of his passion, while another part recoiled from the brutality and coldness in the act. It was like he wanted her desperately, but hated her at the same time.
Because he did, she reminded herself.
The thought was like a splash of ice water. She tore free of the kiss, turning her head away. “Not like this.” Both of their emotions were too volatile.
He held her for another savage moment, breathing heavily. Then he let out a low growl. “You’re lucky I’m not in the mood for anything more.” He released her and stepped into the hall, his expression severe, no hint of affection.
That look hurt in a way she didn’t understand.
As he disappeared down the hall, she yelled after him. “Yeah, well, you’re lucky I don’t use my magic to crush your stupid man bits.” She stubbornly ignored the quiver of her bottom lip.
Chapter 31
Knox paced the first floor of the cabin, digging his fingers through his hair.
He hadn’t meant to kiss her so hard. He hadn’t meant to kiss her at all. But the moment she’d challenged him, that was all he’d been able to think about, even with the vile anger coursing through him.
While he had been working to make her jealous, she had intentionally tried to make him jealous!
And it had fucking worked! Meanwhile, she hadn’t cared one iota that he was lavishing his attention on another woman.
Seeing Cora smile for that wanker, laugh with him, had pissed him off to a level he hadn’t even known was possible. She was bonded to him! That was his smile she’d been carelessly flinging about. He had worked for it. Not that damn prat. But all she showed him was that haughty disdain while pointedly flirting with another.
He wouldn’t go as far as to say he was hurt. For that he’d have to feel some kind of way about her, which was laughable. He didn’t give a shit about her. All he wanted was to use her body, find release, which was long past due. Then she could cavort with all the depraved men in Fusion for all he cared.
He didn’t understand the rough growl that rippled through his lungs. Pouring himself a drink, he continued pacing.
No. He didn’t care. But after what’s she’d nearly done to him, she should be on her knees before him, begging forgiveness.
He’d have none to give. It was too late for that.
All along, he had expected her to strike out at him. Hadn’t he planned to push her to it? Why was he surprised? Just because at some point those plans had floundered under the much more interesting idea of claiming her? Just because she had appeared to be warming up to him?
His lapse had nearly cost him his life.
He didn’t believe for a second she had done it by accident, as she so ardently claimed. Even if it was, it didn’t matter. She’d proved what a danger she was. How easily she could take away his control. Make him do anything she wanted. Just like Sadira.
Though she hadn’t bothered until tonight—in a fit of anger. Or had it been shock at discovering her little boding stipulation?
Didn’t matter.
He threw open the balcony door, hoping the outside air would cool his turbulence. A hint of exotic flowers mingled with the salty air. They must close to the island.
He thought of Cora upstairs, slipping into bed. Was she hoping he’d return to finish what they started? Or was she glad that he’d gone? By the look in her eyes, it was the latter. That look had been the only thing to stop him from taking their kiss to the next level. Had she felt hurt? Had he frightened her with his intensity?
Fuckall! Why was he even contemplating this?
She had been toying with him this whole time. He’d known it from the start, but stupidly he had begun to hope…
For what? A fucking happy ending? A place in her heart?
He laughed at himself, and the sound was as hollow as it was sharp. He certainly hadn’t expected to want her so badly.
Idiot!
He downed the last of his drink in one swallow and gazed out over the sea. Through the dark of night, at the edge of the horizon, he could see the shadow of land.
He breathed in deeply and slowly exhaled.
None of this shit mattered.
His decision was made. He just needed to wait for the perfect opportunity.
* * *
Cora dragged her sleep-crusted eyes open, hating the light that poured in through the window. If she had the power, she’d take it upon herself to snuff out the sun entirely.
Pulling the blanket over her head, she burrowed into the cocooned warmth of her own body heat. She assumed Knox had slept on the couch. Of course, for all she knew, he had slipped into bed with her late last night and had merely got up early to sneak away without waking her. She had passed out so hard a medical professional might have declared her comatose. She hadn’t even had her customary nightmares, thank the goddess. And but for a mild headache, thanks to her excess, she felt surprisingly well rested.
Deciding she couldn’t stay in bed forever, she threw the covers off, sat up, and planted her bare feet on the floor. Then she froze. Out the window there was a spread of lush greenery as if the ocean had been swallowed by a sea of leaves.
“We’ve landed!” she exclaimed.
She crossed to the glass and gazed out, catching sight of the monumental volcano she would be hiking shortly. If it wasn’t for the plumb of rising smoke, it could be confused with a regular old mountain. Lush vegetation suffused the land, but only lined the very base of the volcano. Thick black rock made up the upper portion.
Excited, she rushed to wash up and then dug through her satchel, pulling out the only functional clothing she had managed to pack: a pair of tan shorts and an orange tank top. Unfortunately she had no good hiking footwear, but she thought she had spotted some boots for sale in one of the ship’s store windows.
Once again, Knox was nowhere to be found. After ten minutes of jittery, impatient waiting, she left to procure her hiking boots, a pair of yellow Timberlands.
Thinking Knox might have been out shopping for hiking gear as well, she stopped back by their room to see if he had returned. He hadn’t. He really should have left her a note or something. Was he still super pissed?
Vaguely she wondered if it might be better for her to hike the volcano alone. She really didn’t want to argue with Knox the whole way up. She wished she had remained sober enough last night to have a rational conversation with him. Instead, they’d been like an old, homicidal, married couple. But out of courtesy, she waited another few minutes before deciding to disembark and have a look around outside.
Past the lengthy exiting ramp, a large band had set up on the gravel a few yards from the ship, playing welcoming island music with coconut rattles, steel drums, and ukuleles, while a few men and women harmonized a jaunty tune in a language she didn’t understand. It sounded beautiful anyway.
Festively dressed native women offered leis to passengers, smiling brightly as they looped the flowery necklaces around every available neck.
Cora quickly thanked them for hers and then hurried in the direction of what looked like a bazaar with small huts and shops, the shop owners hoping to hawk their wares to rich tourists.
She glanced at the well-dressed passengers pouring out of the ship, and then back to the locals, covered in little more than scraps of home-sewn fabric. It reminded her of the drastic difference between her life on the streets of St. Stamsworth and her time with Winston, all clashing together in a chaotic heap.
She no longer resented the wealthy for their riches as she once had. Having lived among them, though for a comparably short amount of time, she’d gained a bit of insight. Each individual, regardless of circumstance, was born to a different set of problems dictated in large by class. It was how one dealt with those problems, and how one conducted themselves not only in their own world, but in regard to those perceived to be beneath them, that mattered.
With disgust, she watched many of her fellow passengers turn their noses up at a pack of begging children weaving through the crowd. If she had access to cash of her own, she’d buy them all new clothes, new shoes, and a hot meal, then give them money to spare. She knew what it was like to go without all of the above, to have her belly rumbling with no hope of filling it.
Wasting all those chips at the casino seemed so frivolous now, almost criminal. That hoard of necklaces she had so carelessly tossed overboard in her fit of anger could have been used to rebuild this entire village.
She allowed herself to wallow in her shame for a moment, then mentally steeled herself. She was here for one very important reason: to save Mace.
A shadow dimmed the sun. She glanced up at the darkening sky as plush clouds rolled in. She could only hope the weather held.
Cracking her knuckles, she started in the direction of the volcano but was halted by a large, heavy hand on her shoulder.
“I’ve got us a ride with a Jeep tour,” Knox informed her.
She faced him, knowing two things. He was still mad. And for some reason, that bothered her a great deal more than she thought it should.
He was dressed in a pair of dark-green cargo pants that fit wonderfully at the waist and a black tank top that displayed his bare muscles and the sculpted expanse of his shoulders. His hair was braided more intricately than normal with a few hanging tendrils decorated by colorful beads that somehow managed to make him look even more masculine. A new black-stained hemp military style satchel was slung around his torso. She got the impression he’d been investigating the island long before she’d even woken up.
“Are they going all the way to the top?” she asked, flinging all her disjointed feelings to the back of her mind.
“Only to where the vegetation stops. After they get us there, we’ll slip away and hike the rest of the way.” His eyes traveled over her outfit, and for a fraction of a second, she thought she saw approval in his gaze, but a blink later, he was walled behind a mask of indifference.
“Have you eaten?” His tone was clipped, almost uncaring.
Her stomach rioted at the thought of food. She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
“You should eat something.” He turned and stalked toward the main street, apparently expecting her to follow.
She did.
They came to a small, open-topped hut. A pleasing smell wafted into her nostrils. It was a food stand offering local cuisine.
“I said I wasn’t hungry.”
“Eat anyway. Don’t know how long we’ll be up there.” He approached the counter and ordered something by a name she couldn’t hope to verbally mimic, so she just said she’d have the same.
For some reason, he didn’t think that would do, and proceeded to order what sounded like half the menu.
“That’s far too much food.”
He just shrugged and claimed a table in the corner. “Life’s short. Live it up...while we have the chance.”
She hated the chill in his eyes. And when their food came, he just dug in silently. Unlike before, he didn’t suggest any particular dish or offer her little tastes from his fork.
A thick, achy lump played in her throat.
She surveyed all the different offerings, mostly different styles of meats that she couldn’t really identify, but was willing to assume was some form of chicken or beef, and a small soup bowl for each of them.
When she only sipped on a bit of soup and set it away, he insisted gruffly, “Eat more.”
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Suit yourself.”
Why was he being like this? So cold and distant? She could understand his anger, but he wasn’t the only one who was hurting over everything that had happened. She wished things had gone differently. If Bray hadn’t called, how far would they have gone? If only she had read up on succubi, she wouldn’t have been so shaken by his revelation. Wouldn’t have taken her hurt out on Knox. They could have discussed the situation with reasonable calm. She had to believe they still could, now that the initial shock had worn off.
“Knox, can we talk—”
He cut her off by calling for the excess food to be wrapped up to go.
“You plan to carry all that up the mountain with you?”
“’Course not.”
Outside, bags in hand, he glanced around, muttering, “Where are those little brats? Ah, you there, come here!” he yelled.
She followed his gaze.
The gang of children stopped accosting a flustered-looking woman for handouts and ran over. He gave them each a bag before barking irritably for them to scamper along, but before they left, he knelt in front of one of the older boys and discreetly pointed to a young couple who had just stepped off the ship. “That’s where you’ll find pay dirt.”
With big smiles on their grungy faces, they ran off, tight grips on their bounty. Cora had no doubt they’d soon return, bellies full, to find the lovely, and probably wildly generous, couple Knox had pointed out.
She had no hope of suppressing a wide grin. Even though he was being a big jerk to her, in that moment, all she wanted was to throw her hands around his neck and plant a soft kiss on his lips.
Instead she told him, “It was touch and go there for a minute, but at the moment, you’re my favorite person.”
He frowned at her, warily taking in her smile as if it were something he had to defend against. After a heartbeat, he turned and stalked away, but stopped and glanced back at her as to say something, then changed his mind and continued walking.
Though she understood he was still working through his anger, watching him, she had to wonder if there was something else on his mind. He seemed wary of her. Distant. Normally he loved to fight. So why wasn’t he with her?
She hurried to catch up. “Did something happen last night that I don’t remember?”
“Other than the attempt on my life?”
“About that. Can I just apologize—”
“Don’t.” His tone was low but curt. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I had a right to be angry too, you know. And—”
“What did I just say?”
“Okay. But can we talk about it later, then? After we find the plant and we’re back on the ship and you’re not so...arg?”
He arched a brow at the last. At length he said, “Yeah, sure.” But there was a false note in his words.
She let it go for now. She could tell that was all she was going to get out of him at the moment. His every muscle seemed tense, his wide steps swift and sure. She had to practically run just to keep up.
The Jeep tour consisted of three large ragtag paint-chipped Jeeps stuffed to the brim with yammering tourists. They had to be overbooked, but no one said anything as even more people piled in. Just to make room for a family of four, Cora was forced to sit on Knox’s lap. He didn’t appear too happy about that, although there was evidence to the contrary against her rear. Still, he only touched her after they were underway, when a bump in the rough terrain nearly sent her reeling into the roof.
