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What Doesn't Kill You(42)

By:Cate Dean


“You didn’t need to do anything, sweet.” He laid his forehead against hers, closed his eyes. “You deserve much better than what I have to offer. But I am too selfish to let you go.”

“Good thing.” He looked at her, jade green eyes dark. “Because you’re stuck with me.”

“A harsh sentence.” He straddled her, trapping her arms over her head, and started to nibble at her throat. “I may chafe under the weight of it. But I will make the best of such a burden.”

“Marcus—” She gasped when he reached the sensitive point behind her ear. “We need to—God above—”

“Yes, sweet?” His voice was muffled against her neck.

“What?” That slow nibbling was driving every thought out of her mind. “Marcus—God, I can’t think.”

“That is the goal.”

“Marcus—I’m trying—”

His lips cut her off, and she gave in, letting him take her deeper into mindless sensation. By the time they came up for air, he had his shirt off, and the front of her dress was unbuttoned to the waist.

He brushed his lips over the lace edge of her camisole. Claire let out a gasp, her fingers digging into his bare arms. Muscle rippled in her grip as he lowered himself to her. “First, wedding night.” One hand cupped her breast through the silk camisole, and heat shot through her. “Second, serious conversation.” He kissed his way from her throat to the valley between her breasts. “A distant second.”



*



Moonlight lit her way to the balcony. Claire eased the door open, just enough for her to slip through, and closed it behind her. Their suite faced the ocean, and she could hear the waves crashing at the base of the cliff. It soothed her, like it had since she first heard the ocean. She always made a point of living near water, since it calmed the demon like nothing else ever had.

She heard Marcus behind her, and sighed. The man had the ears of a cat. He slid his arms around her waist, pulled her back against his chest.

“Beautiful night,” he said. “And serious thoughts. Tell me what you’re thinking, sweet.”

She closed her hands over his, kept her voice low. Marcus wasn’t going to be happy. “I want you to make a promise.” His hands tensed under hers. “If something happens, and I—”

“Lose control? Become the beast?” He turned her around, anger snapping in his eyes. “You know better, Claire.”

“I also know I’m walking uncharted territory. I have a soul, Marcus, but I feel the darkness there as well. I’m not sure how they will get along. Please,” she framed his face. “I need to know that you will do whatever is necessary to keep me from hurting anyone.”

“I promise,” he laid his hands over hers, his gaze piercing straight to her heart. “I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

“That isn’t—”

“It is what you get. I will not make a death pact with you, Claire. I will stand between you and anyone else, should something happen.” He took her hands, pressed them over his heart. “I love you, and I made a vow. For me, that means taking care of each other, whatever the circumstances.”

Claire swallowed, tears stinging her eyes. “I love you back, you stubborn Jinn.”

Marcus kissed her, settled her against his chest. “Let’s simply take each day as it comes. I know this much, my sweet witch; it will be interesting.”

With a sigh she wrapped her arms around his waist, watched the moonlight ripple over the water. Here was what she had searched for, as long as she had been roaming the earth, alone and in exile.

Here was home.





FIFTEEN



Zach collapsed on the bed, every inch sore. Annie’s plan for his recovery was going to kill him.

With a groan, he pushed himself up, his stomach complaining louder than his body. He knew there were leftovers in the fridge; he just had to get to them. Being in the back wing of the big house had its disadvantages.

Using the wall, he moved down the hall leading to the kitchen, his right side threatening to spasm again with every step. Marcus told him—out of Mom’s hearing—that he nearly died from the wound. The knife tore apart his strength, trying to break him, to take hold of his power. The battle cost him, and it would take time to bounce back. Zach hated feeling so weak, so vulnerable. And that hate only made him push harder, which left him feeling like he did now. Aching and short of breath.

He turned around before he got halfway to the kitchen, his legs shaking. By the time he reached the bedroom he had to crawl to get to the bed. With the last of his strength he pushed himself up and landed face first on the mattress.