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She was filled with him. She could feel every heavy vein in his cock, every pulse of blood through it, and it was killing her. She needed more, wanted more.
And he was giving her more. Surging inside her as she felt her body tighten. The muscles wrapped around his erection tightened, her clit throbbed, pulsed, and then everything inside her exploded in a cataclysm of light and color that had her screaming his name.
She shuddered through her orgasm, jerking beneath him as he continued to thrust hard and fast, gaining speed, pushing into her as she felt more of those pulses of heated fluid.
A second later, she heard him snarl, and felt something shocking. Something she knew couldn’t be natural. This couldn’t be real. His cock was swelling in one place. Getting larger, separating her farther as she felt his semen begin to spurt inside her.
Animal genetics, she thought distantly. He was locking inside her. Held tight and sure inside the heavy muscles of her vagina. He suddenly snarled with animalistic fervor, and she felt his teeth pierce her upper shoulder.
She should be screaming in pain. She was screaming in pleasure. Another, harder orgasm ripped through her, shook her, wrenched her senses from her and left her lost. She was so lost, with nothing, no one to hold on to. Thrown into a pleasure so violent, so brutal, she wondered if she could survive it.
Behind her, Del-Rey was growling. His teeth still gripped her flesh, his cock still locked inside her. She sobbed out his name. She wanted to beg him to hold her, but the last shreds of her pride held her back.
He had taken her like this, impersonally, and he had to have done it for a reason. She didn’t matter. The same reason he had shot her family: the same reason he had lied to her for so many years. Because Anya Kobrin and the fragile love that had been building inside her for him, didn’t matter.
Which left her alone, at the mercy of a man that she now knew had no mercy.
He had made a grave tactical error and Del-Rey knew it. The anger that had festered inside him over the years had overlooked the intense, all-abiding loyalty Anya felt for her family and friends. Del-Rey was a man who believed in retribution. He had been such a man all his life, until he sat here now, staring into the darkness of his own soul, and realized he had wounded a treasure he hadn’t known he’d held.
He had known from the moment he met her that he was going to betray her. It was the way of the world. He couldn’t fully trust. He never gave complete control or complete trust to another person outside of Brim. Just as he had known that retribution would be dealt to the guards’ leaders, as he had always dealt it. He had always killed before. He’d pulled his punches because of Anya. He hadn’t killed; he had only wounded. Her father and her cousins would know they had been dealt with fairly. They were men of war. War had different rules than the fairy tales young women such as Anya lived within.
She was sleeping. Finally. Del-Rey sat in the chair beside her bed, dressed, his head in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. He had sat down there the minute he withdrew from her, as soon as the knot that had been swollen in his cock had receded enough to pull away from her. He had jerked his jeans back to his hips and sat. To keep from falling to the floor.
And he had remained there as she silently folded herself onto her side, tugged the blanket over her shoulders and cried silently until she went to sleep.
She hadn’t sobbed again. She hadn’t cursed him or railed at him. She had retreated into herself, and he had no idea how to pull her back.
He lowered his hands and stared at them. Large hands. The hands of a warrior. A killer. These hands had held her beneath him. His teeth had held her in place. His cock had knotted hard and deep inside her.
He had never done that. In his entire sexual life, he had never done that to a woman. Why this woman?
He rose to his feet and fixed his jeans before jerking his T-shirt on. He could hear Brim, his second-in-command moving up the steps to the second-floor bedroom. Del-Rey opened the door as the other man reach it.
Concerned light blue eyes stared back at him.
“Vehicles are here,” Brim reported. “Those women downstairs are pissed off though. Watch your back.”
He didn’t blame them. Hell, someone should shoot him.
“Have you contacted Haven?”
“Messages have gone out, no answer,” Brim reported before inhaling with narrowed eyes. “Something isn’t right here, Del-Rey. You took the girl?”
Del-Rey growled. Anya was none of Brim’s business.
Brim shook his head. “Her scent has changed, shifted, and yours has as well. Something whacked is going on here.”
That was the understatement of the century. He looked back at Anya.
“Get ready to move out,” he told his second-in-command. “Have them send Haven another message. I need their doctor. Now. This can’t happen again, Brim. I don’t know what the hell happened in here, but it can’t happen again.”
He closed the door and moved back to the bed.
“Anya,” he whispered her name, and she flinched.
Was it so horrendous, his touch? The greatest pleasure he had known in his life, and now, she flinched from him.
“Get dressed. The vehicles are here and we’re moving out. Now. I don’t think you want to risk any attempt I would make to try to dress you myself.”
