Taken Over (The Ravening #2)(36)
Author: Erica Stevens

“Cade,” I breathed against the mouth possessing mine.

And then he was pushing me back, bringing me down beneath him. I was stunned, confused adrift in the emotions and disbelief pulsating through me. It was Cade, but it couldn’t be. He was dead. I had given up hope, I was grieving, and I had been trying to salvage the broken bits of me and slowly putting some of those broken bits back together again.

And now he was here. And none of it mattered anymore. The agony and pain were forgotten as his searing touch burned the lingering ache from every fiber of my being.

His hands were hard upon my throat. For a moment I thought that he might kill me in his desire to touch me, to be near me, to feel me again. And I found that I didn’t care as he pressed me into the ground. His body was hot against mine, hard as he pressed closer. I had never felt something so unbelievably wonderful. His kiss became more ferocious, greedier with its need. His need.

I reacted to it, breaking free of the lingering chains of shock that confined me. My hands dug into his back. I was sobbing; I couldn’t get enough of him as I grasped desperately at him. My mouth parted to the fiery invasion of his tongue. I arched beneath him, clinging tighter as his pelvis rocked against mine. His desperate need was overwhelming my senses, overwhelming my mind. The world was spinning rapidly; I was entrenched in the desire, relief, and love that filled me. There had never been anything as wonderful as his hands searing over me, touching me, grasping eagerly at me. Unable to get enough of me.

The depth of his hunger was shocking in its passion. It overwhelmed me. I had felt his longing for me before, his desire, but it had never been this extreme, never been this overpowering before. It was almost animalistic, almost savage. I thought I should fear the overwhelming intensity but I couldn’t, not when he was touching me again, not when I was holding him, not when he was here with me.

Not when he was alive.

I didn’t care what happened now, didn’t care that this was spiraling far beyond my control. Far beyond his, even. That this was spinning into places I had never been before. Nothing mattered except for this moment, and the two of us.

His arm wrapped around my waist, lifting me sharply against his pelvis as he ground against me. I gasped as fire shot through me. The motion jarred my wounded shoulder, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about that even. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him to stop, he could do whatever he wanted just as long as he was still holding me, and remained alive. His mouth broke away from mine, his lips moved over my neck leaving a trail of flames across my skin. I was breathing rapidly, my chest heaving against him as my fingers dug tighter into his back. I had to cling to him; he was the only thing stable in this tumultuous sea of love, need, and growing desire.

I knew where this was heading and I yearned for it. I craved it like a thirsty man craves water, craved it like a prisoner craves freedom. He was my water, he was my freedom; he was the only one that could sate the needs of my body. Needs that I’d never known until him, needs that I’d forgotten since he’d been taken from me.

He pulled at my shirt, tugging the buttons eagerly open. I gasped as the cool air hit my overheated, over sensitized skin. I expected to feel the hard press of his lips again, but they did not come. I opened my eyes slowly, aching for him to come back to me, but he was unmoving as he kneeled above me. His hair was tussled from what had just passed between us; his expression hard as his swollen lips pinched tight.

At first I didn’t understand what had happened, what was wrong, and then I realized that his dark eyes were locked upon my shoulder. I winced slightly, I wanted to cover the wound marring me, wanted to hide the ugliness from him. He was still perfect, or at least he appeared to be, and I was even more flawed and ugly than when he had last seen me. My body was marred by scars, burns, and brands of horses. I wanted to hide it, but I couldn’t bring myself to release him. Not yet, possibly not ever again.

His eyes came slowly back to me, and though I hadn’t thought it was possible, they appeared even darker. They were chips of black ice, brutal and cold, and filled with an anger I had never thought to see in him. Filled with a smoldering rage that caused my knees to shake slightly against his sides. The desire that had just been burning in his gaze was drenched beneath his growing fury.

“They did that to you?” he grated through clenched teeth.

I swallowed heavily. He seized hold of my hand, stopping me as I reached to pull my shirt over the healing blister. “I don’t want you to see it!” I cried, feeling an irrational urge to cry as I tried to tug my hand and shirt free of his grasp. He was flawless, everything about him was perfect, and I was unbelievably flawed in so many ways. Now I had that awful wound, and rearing horse, to constantly remind me of that fact. He seemed confused by my outburst, but he gently released my hand and allowed me to cover it back up.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t want to…” My voice broke off. I blinked back tears as I gazed at him. “I don’t want to talk about bad things. Not right now. Not with you here. Oh God you’re here. I’d thought you were dead!”

Tears burst free of me as I threw my arms around him. There was no desire between us this time; no lustful need as I clung to him, crying out the misery of the past month. Crying for the blessed joy of our reunion. There was no hunger in his hands as they ran over me, clinging to me, soothing me with love and wonder.

“My Bethany, my beautiful Bethany.”

I sobbed harder, burying my face in his neck, grasping franticly at him. I was never going to let him go, never going to release him again. I was whole once more, I was truly alive, and he was here. He was here.

“I thought you were dead. I had given up hope of ever finding you again, ever seeing you again.”

“I know.” His hand wrapped around my head as his fingers threaded through my hair.

“I shouldn’t have given up, I should have known. Maybe I could have found you sooner…”

“You never could have found me Bethany,” he interrupted.

“Where were you? How did you get away?”

His lips were warm as they brushed against my temple, soft as they found my cheek. “I don’t want to talk about bad things now either.” I pulled slightly away from him, searching his charcoal eyes intently, looking for some sign that he was different. For some sign that they had damaged him in some irreparable way. There was no such sign in his gleaming gaze as he bent to kiss me gently. “Tomorrow we can discuss everything.”