Her Vengeful Embrace Read online

  I didn’t have a choice.

  Tristan nipped her thigh. “Stay with me, Te. Don’t wander.”

  The impulse to laugh almost overwhelmed her. Stay with him. That was rich. Amarante managed to muscle it down, though. She lifted her head and gave him as cool a look as she could come up with considering their position. “Perhaps if you stopped dicking around I wouldn’t get distracted waiting for you.”

  His brows lowered even as his lips curved. “Am I being too nice to you?”

  Her breath caught in her chest. Now was the time to back down, to reassure him that going slow was exactly what she wanted—what she needed. The latter might even be the truth. It wasn’t what she wanted, though. She licked her lips. “Yes.”

  “I’ll take that into consideration.”

  “What—” Her question dissolved into a moan. Tristan flattened his hand over her lower stomach, pinning her to the mattress, and then he stopped teasing her. He sucked her clit hard and then transitioned to the little circles designed to send her over the edge. He didn’t hesitate. He simply touched her exactly the way he used to back when he knew her body as well as she knew his. When they learned together exactly what got them off.

  Her orgasm burst through her, bowing her back and drawing a cry from her lips. Tristan didn’t stop, though. It was like whatever held him back had snapped. He moved away from her clit to fuck her with his tongue, sending pleasure in a rolling wave through her, lifting her higher before she had a chance to truly recover. “Tristan,” she gasped. “Too much.”

  “Do you want me to stop?” He barely lifted his head enough to speak, and he didn’t relax his grip in the least.

  Did she want him to stop? No, of course not. Yes, definitely. Amarante looked down her body at him, her heart racing in her chest. Tristan appeared… wild. His breath came just as fast as hers, his eyes a little too intense, his hands shaking despite their hold on her body.

  This meant something to him, too.

  The realization was enough to decide her. “Don’t stop.”

  “I won’t stop, Te. Not ever again.”

  She didn’t know how to respond to that. Tristan didn’t seem to need a response, though. He dipped his head back down and then there was no time for thinking at all.

  Chapter 12

  Tristan couldn’t get enough of Amarante. Her strength beneath his hands. Her throaty moans. Her taste on his tongue. He’d spent ten fucking years using the memories of their time together to fantasize about a time he’d be able to touch her again. He hadn’t honestly expected to get the opportunity.

  If there were people who believed in forgiving and forgetting the wrongs committed against them… Amarante did not number among them.

  She dug her fingers into his hair and tugged. “Come here.”

  He didn’t want to move from his current position, not until he’d made her come so many times, she was limp and wrung out with pleasure. But her grip in his hair didn’t relent, and so he gave her one last long lick and lifted his head. “I wasn’t done.”

  “Later.” She guided him until he was stretched out over her and kissed him. He would never get enough of kissing this woman. The rest of it, yes, but this connection staggered him on a level he still wasn’t prepared to deal with. It just reinforced his truth. Amarante and he were connected in a way that couldn’t be severed. They would find each other over and over again through the years.

  He’d lost too much time with her. He refused to lose more.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist and rolled her hips, grinding against his cock. He picked up the motion, enjoying this moment that almost felt like a memory. Back then, they’d fucked around more than once before they finally had sex. This slippery friction, her body moving against his as if they’d been designed for each other, her tongue tangling with his… It was perfect.

  But not quite enough.

  He flipped onto his back, taking her with him. Amarante let loose a little squawk but regained her balance quickly, straddling him with a glare. As if she wasn’t expecting him to pull a move just like that. He ran his hands up her strong legs to her hips and the curve of her waist. He paused on the scar that staggered down one side of her stomach but forced his hand to keep moving. This woman was more than the sum of her scars, and messing with them would ruin the mood.

  He palmed her small breasts and then sat up enough to suck first one nipple and then the other. She was just as sensitive there as she used to be, and her hips jerked, grinding down on his cock as he moved back to her left breast. Tristan looked up. “Ride me.”

  For a second, he thought she might argue, but her dark eyes had gone hazy with pleasure. Finally Amarante shoved him back flat on the bed and looked around. She yanked open the nightstand drawer and pulled out a condom. Her fingers shook, so Tristan extracted it from her grasp and tore it open. He nudged her back a little and rolled it over his cock with a practiced motion.

  She raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you’ve had plenty of practice over the last ten years.”

  “Something like that.” The truth was he’d gone out of his way to purge her from his system. He’d thought if he could just overwrite the memory of her, he might be okay. It took a couple years to realize that would never be the case, and then he’d only taken partners when the loneliness became too much to bear.

  The implications of her statement struck. Had she not attempted the purge the memory of him? He looked up at her, trying to read her expression. As open as she was right now, she offered him nothing. The thought of her with other people…

  Tristan very purposefully set the jealousy threatening aside. Amarante deserved whatever the fuck she wanted. She deserved all the pleasure and happiness in the world. He had hardly been chaste in their time apart, and that was the key here. Time apart. It was over now.

  He held her gaze, giving her his truth. “None of them were you.”

  “Don’t.” She shook her head. “Don’t do that. Not now. Now ever.”

  He opened his mouth and then reconsidered. He had no business promising her shit. Even if he meant every word, they had too much history between them for her to believe it. Only time would do that for him, and it was one thing he didn’t have right now. The only option was to relent. “Okay.”

  Amarante took his cock and squeezed him. There was no hesitation after that. She guided him to her entrance and sank several exhilarating inches down. Her gasp tore at him and healed him, all at the same time. Tristan grabbed her hips. “Slow, Te.”

  “Yeah.” She sounded shaky. “Slow.” She braced her hands on his chest and worked herself down him in slow, rolling movements. Inch by inch, until finally, a small eternity later, he was sheathed to the hilt. He tried to keep his grip on her hips light, to let her have full control, to enjoy this moment fully.

  She was so fucking perfect. Her strength, her scars, her wicked mind. She took his breath away. Then Amarante began to move. She rode him in languid strokes, and if she was anyone else, he’d accuse her of teasing them both. But this wasn’t anyone else. She sought her pleasure in her own time, trusting him to hold out as long as she needed, her touch reaching deep into his soul in a way he wasn’t prepared for. He opened his mouth to say… He didn’t even fucking know. It didn’t matter. This moment was too perfect to mar with words.

  “If you could see the way you watch me.” She leaned back and braced her hands on his thighs, giving him a completely unimpeded view of her body as she rode him.

  He ran his hand down the center of her body and pressed his thumb against her clit, letting her work herself against him. “If you could see the way you look right now.”

  He wanted nothing more in this moment than for it to last forever. Pleasure sparked down his spine, but he fought it back. He’d last as long as Amarante needed him. In that moment, he’d have done anything for her. “You feel good, Te.”

  “You feel good, too.” Her voice had gone breathy and she closed her eyes, bracing her hands on his chest as she pi
cked up her momentum.

  Words bubbled up, words he couldn’t allow for fear that it would ruin this fragile thing they built between them in this room. I missed you. I’m sorry. I love you. The truth, all of it. He arched off the bed and took her mouth, urging her hips down hard to take him deep. Amarante clung to him and moaned as she came. Tristan held on through sheer stubbornness, stroking her back as she came down.

  It took a full minute before she lifted her head. “You know, we’re likely to be stuck here all night.”

  “Yes.”

  Amarante nipped his bottom lip. “If I promise not to hold you to some ridiculous one orgasm rule, will you promise not to stop until the sun comes up?”

  As if she had to ask. He kissed her hard and then toppled her back onto the bed. “I won’t stop, Te. I won’t stop until you tell me to.”

  She spread her legs wide, urging him to loop his arms under them and hold her there. “Keep fucking me, Tristan. The only thing I want to feel tonight is you.”

  He took a few cautious strokes, testing her. She’d said go slow before, but she only moaned and lifted her hips to take him deeper. “You want me to fuck you.” His words came out low and dark, a threat and a promise.

  “Yes.” She grabbed his hips and tried to urge his thrusts.

  “You want me deep.” He pulled almost all the way out and shoved back in with enough strength to move her several inches up the bed. “Hard.”

  “Deeper. Harder.” She reached over her head to brace her hands on the headboard. A flush spread across her golden skin.

  He shifted position, lifting her hips so he held her lower body suspended off the mattress. Then Tristan did exactly what she commanded. He fucked her. Deeper. Harder. Until the wet sounds of flesh meeting flesh filled the room, a perfect counterpoint to his harsh breathing and her moans. Each stroke broke down a tiny piece of the wall between them, and he was determined to annihilate it by morning.

  Amarante came with a cry and, this time, he couldn’t help but follow her over the edge. He drove into her one last time and ground down, taking everything she offered before slumping to the side. He couldn’t stop touching her, though. He didn’t want to.

  Getting up to dispose of the condom was too much distance, but coming back to the bed to find her stroking herself between her thighs was the kind of reward he could get behind. He stopped next to the bed. “Insatiable.”

  “Yes.”

  He crawled onto the bed and knelt between her legs, stroking her thighs as she fingered her pussy. “Fuck, Te.”

  “That’s the idea.” She laughed, low and dirty, and then reached with her still-wet fingers to stroke his cock. “Again.”

  As if he could resist her. As if he wanted to. Tristan reached for another condom. “Again,” he agreed.

  Chapter 13

  Amarante woke before Tristan, which was just as well. She didn’t know how to frame last night. A moment of weakness. That’s all it could be, no matter how good it felt to be in his arms again. No matter how safe he made her feel. It was a lie. Tristan might still care for her on one level, but even when they were at their strongest, he chose her father over her. After a single night together? She wasn’t fool enough to think she’d tipped the scales in her favor when it came to his loyalty. She doubted he even had loyalty.

  Nicholai still hadn’t given the all-clear. The thought gave her pause. Surely the assassin hadn’t escaped. The Warren was created specifically to stop something like that from happening. For him to have breached so many defenses and nearly taken out a guest…

  Heads would roll.

  She just had to make sure hers wasn’t one of them. Not yet. Not until she’d finished the task she came here to complete.

  Amarante took a quick shower and began her process of getting ready. One layer of armor after another. Hair. Makeup. Lingerie. Clothing. All of it distanced her from the helpless child she’d been all those years ago. All of it sent a message that she was to be fucked with at someone’s peril.

  “Zhao’s an idiot.”

  She’d heard Tristan rustling around in the bedroom, or she would have jumped when his voice sounded at the doorway. Amarante finished applying her red lipstick and straightened. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “He gave you shit about your clothes.” Tristan snorted. “As if the suits aren’t sexier than most dresses.”

  “I don’t dress for you.” She adjusted her top, a structured white and floral piece that went well with her dark green slacks and jacket. It was likely a little too romantic, but if she chose one of her more masculine appearing suits, that would be just as bad. After Zhao commented on her clothing, she was damned if she did, damned if she didn’t. No matter what she wore, he would take it as her reacting to his criticism. So, damn it, she’d wear what she wanted.

  “No shit you don’t dress for me.”

  What he said finally penetrated and she turned to face him. “You weren’t in the room for that part of the conversation.”

  Tristan didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed. “Nic let me have a look at what was going on since Zhao all but banished me.”

  Another indication of how close Tristan was with the owner of the Warren. Dangerous. So dangerous. If she’d realized how much of a disadvantage she’d be at…

  It wouldn’t have changed anything. She’d still have come, and she’d still be planning what she was planning. “I see.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Don’t start acting like I’m the enemy again.”

  She gave him the look that deserved. “Tristan, you are the enemy. Sex doesn’t change that and you know it. How many times have you let sex get in the way of your plans over the years?”

  “Zero times.” His gaze sharpened. “How many times have you?”

  She ignored that. “So you can understand why things can’t change.” Maybe if she said it enough times, she’d actually believe it. Amarante wasn’t one to let emotions get in the way of her endgame, but then she’d never had to dance around her feelings for Tristan, either. Not like this.

  “No, Te, I don’t fucking understand.” He followed her out of the bedroom and into the main area of the suite. Too close. She could all but feel him behind her, and she didn’t trust herself to let him touch her again. Already, the temptation to drag him back to bed and spend as much time as they could lost in each other… It was a serious temptation.

  A knock on the door saved her from having to respond. She took one step, but Tristan moved faster. He held out a hand. “Let me.”

  “I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”

  “No one said you weren’t.”

  She considered and discarded the idea of shoving past him just to make a point. It wouldn’t do anything but delay opening the door, and she needed space more than she needed to prove she had the largest dick in the room. Instead, she leaned back against the arm of the couch and waited.

  Nicholai barely let Tristan get the door open before he charged into the room. “Shut the fucking door.”

  For once, Tristan obeyed without being a smart ass. He shut the door and leaned against it. It struck Amarante that they were on opposite sides of Nicholai, positioned so he couldn’t see both of them without turning, allowing for a surprise attack if one was required. She met Tristan’s gaze and saw her realization reflected there. She hadn’t meant to do it. She didn’t think he had either.

  The more things change, the more they stay the same.

  Nicholai strode to the wall of faux windows and they flickered, the picture morphing to one of the man who’d tried to shoot her last night. “That is a Typhon assassin.”

  Tristan swore long and hard, but Amarante couldn’t look away from the nondescript man pictured. “Typhon? You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” He turned to face them and crossed his arms over his chest. All his suits looked the same, but the creases in this one suggested he hadn’t changed from yesterd
ay. The dark smudges under his green eyes backed that assumption up. “He got away.”

  “The fuck he did.” Tristan shoved off the wall. “You have this place locked down more than any other in the world. It shouldn’t be possible for him to escape.”

  “And yet he did.” Nicholai bit each word out. “We were less than thirty seconds behind him. He managed to make it to the employee halls and lost us there. Despite having all entrances and exits under watch, he hacked the system and looped the video. We only missed it for about ten minutes, but it was enough for him to leave the property.”

  A pit opened up in Amarante’s stomach. She’d suspected he was an assassin, but she hadn’t realized how much she’d relied on Nicholai’s reputation to hold up. A double edged sword, that. If he wasn’t as good as his reputation, then she might live past killing her father.

  She also might be removed before she had a chance to strike.

  The clock ticking in the back of her mind picked up speed. Tick, tick, tick. Not enough time. She never had enough time. She had to strike, and quickly. “No harm done.”

  “What?”

  Nicholai didn’t look at Tristan, instead pinning her with a cold look. “No, Ms. Death, it is not no harm done. He attempted to break the neutral ground and fired a weapon within the Warren. If you were alone, there’s a decent chance he would have succeeded. He will be found, and he will be made an example of.”

  The thought brought her no comfort. No matter if he succeeded or failed, she doubted she’d be alive to see Nicholai enact his punishment. “Typhon is one of the most secretive guilds in existence, to the point where most people don’t even know it exists. How could you possibly find this man when you don’t even know which of their number he is?”

  “That’s my concern.”

  Tristan cleared his throat. “It’s more than likely this is all a diversion. The attempt was real enough, but if you’re devoted to tipping the scales back into balance, you won’t be giving your full attention to this summit.”