Bozena and Sveta (Neuripra) Read online

  No one loves me. This isn't real. You're just saying this. I know I'm a fucking freak, I don't need you telling me!

  When I try to push away, he holds tighter, lifting me in his arms with the strength of his hug, burying his head in my neck, and tears run into my collarbone. His grip is suffocating, but Jesus! Oh Jesus fucking everything. He's crying! He's fucking crying!

  God! I suck. I'm awful. I'm poison.

  I should go.

  Big arms tighten even more and he shakes against me, crushing me to his chest until the shame overwhelms me and I'm crying too. Again.

  Sobbing together, I'm a wreck; living, breathing, carnage. Crying for reasons I don't even know, other than I can't bear the pain of knowing he hurts when I hurt. I love him. I never ever want him to hurt like I do.

  He lifts his head to stare into my eyes, tears glossing his cheeks, his irises now completely saturated in gold fire, “I do love you. Never ever doubt it. Not ever.”

  The kiss he thrusts on me is hard, relentless, full of need, pain, fear, anger, desire.

  Like me.

  And I push back with my lips, with all my strength, needing to be closer, to make this better. To make us better.

  Choking back the sobs, burying it deep inside me, I mute emotions and throw caution to the wind. Choosing his seductive touch over the fear of pain, I weaken into the desire his nearness and masculinity stoke in me.

  His thumb is rigid under my chin, shoving it up, locking my mouth to his, his hoarse voice slipping into my thoughts, Tonight is ours. You are going to be naked inside out before the sun comes up. Tonight you will cry, sob, scream, and sigh, in every pain and pleasure imaginable, and when I'm done with you, you will either hate me, or finally understand how fucking much you mean to me.

  Please stop crying, I think back.

  Then stop breaking my heart. Let me in. I can help you.

  I have no answer to that, and I don't care because his kiss is burning a hole through my soul. I've never needed anyone as desperately as I need him right now. To make the confusion fuck off, to show me we're okay.

  The answer to my thoughts is the loud ripping of my shirt when he tears it straight down my back, yanking it forward around my shoulders and imprisoning my arms in the sleeves.

  “I've got you now,” he says, breaking the kiss and sounding like a god about to unleash wrath.

  He wraps the freed material around my wrists and I'm immediately aware how stuck I am, and how freaking cold it is.

  Shit!

  Chapter 12

  Božena:

  “Would you trust me? We're about to put the fun back into dysfunctional,” he says, using his wicked lustgod voice.

  Pulling me up with him, he rolls his shoulders when he releases my bound wrists, teasing me by unbuttoning the first button on his waistcoat.

  In disbelief I meet his eyes with my gaze. What game are we playing tonight?

  He rolls the other shoulder, a mischievous smirk hooking his mouth, undoing another button, alternating shoulder rolls with undone buttons, slowly stripping, smiling his rock star smile, then he unhooks the final black metal button, twisting shyly and slipping it off with his back to me, letting it fall with a dull thud.

  My mouth goes dry at the sight of his muscular back, with its deep ridge of shadow where his spine hides. He bulges, ripples, like waves swelling on the high seas the muscles pump up and roil with his movement, but all I can focus on is the scar on his shoulder.

  He took that bullet for me. When his brother Ryan held me hostage during my pregnancy, he wanted to protect me, help me, and Ryan shot him for being outspoken.

  I still don't get that.

  I know I was hallucinating badly and crazy with fever, but I still can't fathom why Ryan would shoot his own brother, because of me.

  All Sveta did was become a husband inside a second, keeping me alive, holding me, giving me comfort when I was dying inside, lifting me when I was too weak to breathe, bathing me, nursing me... loving me.

  Why? Why do I doubt him? He's proven himself over and over from the first day we were alone.

  Stepping forward, I softly flatten my palm over the scar, leaning in to place a grateful kiss on his skin.

  I'm sorry, Sveta. I'm sorry I'm such a handful.

  He twists, catching my hand and taking it to his lips, pressing a loving kiss into the lines of my hand, staring soulfully into my eyes from way up there.

  He's so tall and fabulous I should be worshipping the ground he walks on, not battering him for everything he says or does.

  I'll take a hundred bullets for you, he whispers hotly into my head.

  When Jowendrhan bit me, and I lay broken and out of my mind on a bathroom floor in a hotel room, Sveta saved my life then too. I thought I dreamed of Sveta when he came in, bit open his own wrist, and gave me the stabilizing blood from his body to drink.

  I'm awkward with my hands tied together, but I use the hand not held in his to softly touch the stubble in front of it.

  “Zena, I may be an asshole, but I'm not a liar. I will always be here for you because you are my chosen mate. I pledged to love you and can't undo that, and don't fucking want to.”

  “Why? You could have anyone, why me?”

  “Stop it. Stop with this endless self-deprecation shit. Why can't you just accept that there's someone for everyone on this planet, and for me you're that someone.”

  “I'm broken! Damaged. You're just going to end up hurt!”

  “I know!” he yells back, twisting to show me the bullet scar again. Pivoting back, he glowers at me, “It didn't stop me! Nothing can stop me loving you, but death. Got it?”

  La-freaq. He oxidizes my blood. He makes me nuts! I want him, and don't, in equal measure. It's a struggle inside me which doesn't make sense. I crave him, but also hate myself for needing anyone, for exposing myself to more avoidable hurt.

  I'm fine alone, why can't lovers just be playmates instead of fucking soul mates?

  Releasing the palm for my face, his grip presses firmly into the skin of my chin, tilting my focus up to stare into his eyes, “Because you need love. Everyone does. You deserve more than what you allow yourself. You're starving inside because you force yourself to stay on the emaciating love diet. Your heart is anorexic because you never feed the fucking thing.”

  Wow, that's a corrosive statement.

  Staring up at him, I've had enough. “Fuck you Sveta.”

  “I'm not criticizing you. It's an honest statement. It's the truth, and you're only angry because the truth bites like a bitch.”

  “Don't hold anything back. Get it all off your chest and lay the blame at my door. I didn't make false promises and I didn't offer more than I was willing to give. If who and what I am isn't good enough for you, then fuck you. Take me home right this second because I won't stay where I'm unwelcome. You're asking for something I can't give and no amount of bullying is going to get it. So fuck you very much.”

  His eyes narrow, bleeding out honey-gold vapor, and the grip on my face tightens just enough to betray my truth bites like a bitch too.

  “Have you ever considered therapy?” he says, in a tone so flat it feels dangerous.

  “Yes. I've had therapy. As you can see my bad attitude is inherent. There's no fix for me Sveta. Take me as I am or fuck the hell off.”

  Again he moves so fast my stomach drops into my ankles and my heart pumps with immediate labored ache.

  The sound of jade beads scattering across the kitchen floor rattles my calm facade. Without so much as blinking, he broke my necklace.

  His expression is dangerous as he says, “Fuck you and your proudly jaded attitude. It's all fake armor. Stop hiding from me Zena. I know who you are, I've been inside your head. I was with you when you were dying and I read every single thought bleaching your mind into faded numb. I was there! Stop lying to me!”

  “I am not lying.”

  “Yes, you are. Why do you hurt so fucking much when you think I've left you for som
eone else? Because you love me! It won't kill you to show it, to be vulnerable with me! For shit's sake Zena, I can't prove it any more than I have. I'm loyal, constant, I give you everything you need and ask for, and you give me a handful of charity back. Maybe the 'fuck you' should be laid at your door. All you do is fuck me, how'd you like it if I fucked you back? You wouldn't. Own that!”

  While he's speaking, he has me constantly back pedaling with his advancing bulk.

  I'm now in a doorway and kinda afraid to turn around.

  It takes me half a second to notice the room has lights which just magically switched themselves on, and he's shepherding me toward a bed.

  His bed.

  That's all we need really, is to work off this negative energy with some life affirming endorphins.

  Sex is like running a mile, or something, they say. It's a full body workout and is supposed to make you happy.

  Maybe that's why I like sex so much.

  “Does it really make you happy? Or is that just one more lie you tell yourself so you can live with the guilt of what you put me through?” he says, hooking my focus back to him.

  The expression on his face is murderous, angry, volatile.

  I've never seen him like this and it makes me more than jumpy, it forces me back up to the mental ledge overlooking sobbing hysteria.

  He does a weird movement with his hand and the lights dim, fading slowly.

  The advancing dark closing in around me is foreboding.

  Chapter 13

  Božena:

  The backlit look he gives me has a plethora of possibilities hiding in its depths. Unable to guess, I simply stare back, hungry.

  In a blur, he's on me, pinning me down, forcing my arms under his knees, his crotch so close to my chin when he sits on me and flattens me into the bed.

  Excited, turned on, I maintain the silence, staring back barely seeing him in the dark, but seeing enough, goading him with visual challenge. He's so solid I can feel my hard nipples pushing back into my flesh... and heavy. He's so heavy it labors my breath.

  Leaning down closer to me, crunching blocks of muscle into folding together, I watch his face morph into pumped up fury. The veins protrude down his neck, his teeth sharpen and peek onto his sensual bottom lip, and every muscle strains against his skin, lacing it with hefty veins that are so sexy I want to bite and lick every last one of them, tracing and tasting the map until I find his scream.

  Gripping my chin in a firm hold, he forces my face aside, exposing my neck, and my heart starts to dance with delirium. This violence chases a need right through me to soak anticipation into my lingerie, and my breathing morphs into ragged gasps.

  Every exaggerated heart-pounding breath rams my heartbeat up into the seat of his jeans, and the thought of that zip coming down hammers it harder.

  Thrilled, I want to bite, but can't with the merciless grip on my face, keeping me vulnerable and exposed to his neuri teeth.

  “This mark, why the hell did I put it on you?” he growls, snaking his hot wet tongue over the tattoo he left in my neck when he first bit me.

  He's going to bite me!

  Instantly the last light in the room fades out as if announcing the reign of darkness.

  The thought of his bite is so alluring I almost cum, dribbling hot with ache, with the pounding thrum gonging through my sex.

  Yes! I dare you!

  “WHY?” he yells, so close to my face incinerating breath blasts up my nostrils.

  The anger in his tone undoes me and I quake beneath him, having a shameful orgasm before he's even touched me.

  “Jeez Zena! Is that all you can think about?”

  Yes.

  “I put it there as a pledge. So you know there's someone in this world who loves you,” he says, gruff and raw.

  His lips forage in my neck, turning me into a swimming puddle of hormones.

  Teeth sink into my neck, covering the mark he placed in my skin, pouring passion into my bloodstream until I'm screaming, feverish, now so scattered thoughts are random flashes in the corridors of sanity.

  Ripped, twisted, my clothes flee with his hunter's impatience, stripping me naked so fast I simply feel more wanton and salacious, losing the binding on my wrists.

  Widening my legs, I clamp them around his hips and strain him closer, wondering when he's going to stop holding me down and biting me. He's in a real flame-thrower mood tonight, and I like it.

  He's so ambidextrous and limber he's like an octopus, always having two points of his body pinning me under him while he maneuvers, abandoning our clothes to somewhere, until sleek hot skin presses against mine, and I flex, grinding up to meet him, pressing my need into his leg, shaking when it makes me shudder again, my breath so whimpered and broken I no longer sound human.

  The pinch of his teeth deepens, hurting, reducing me to a euphoria so unique, I'm swelling and throbbing, needing a fuck so bad I'm ready to beg.

  He growls again, low and deep. It vibrates the bed, drumming resonance through my limbs, like a vibrator shoved deep inside me and set to max.

  Whimpering, I press up to connect my naked body to as much of his skin as I can. Needing to be covered, owned, honed.

  Releasing my neck with such speed, he burrows my head into the mattress with the force of his teeth on my lips, biting to a bleed, shoving my leg wide with his knee and ramming fingers up into me, rubbing harsh and ruthless over the sensitivity burning for him.

  His tongue plunges into my mouth in tandem to his fingers inside me, and I scream, cumming with such furious force, orgasming in an endless crest which obliterates me.

  Bites, scratches, kisses, sucks, blend together in the whirlpool of desperate banging, slamming, fucking, fingering, brutal and savage and fervent and freeing!

  Wild, I wrestle, bending my body this way and that, writhing, panting into his mouth, neck, shoulder, chest, unable to focus, begging, pleading, needing, HARDER!

  He manages to find a place inside me which only he reaches, and it's an O spot which is magnificent and mind blowing. Having six erogenous zones tickled and taunted simultaneously destroys me, and I'm breathless, hoarse from screaming, breathing, words mindlessly running over each other, him fucking the orgasm inside me, deep deep deep inside me, with every thrust he touches it, igniting a pyre which mushrooms out, glowing, speeding fire through my muscles and veins with dizzying velocity.

  Every slide hits my usual g-spot, every grind scorches the pleasure in my clit, the plunging in hitting the spot only he licks, and to top it all off I have a chest chaffing my left nipple, his hand pinching the right, and his tongue raping my mouth. His free hand is round my neck, caressing and squeezing, sending shivers of wildfire up and down my spine.

  I am a breathing orgasm, living on his ragged exhalations, existing for this moment, for this madness, for this ecstatic vulgar beauty.

  Oh God!

  God!

  Yes!

  Imploding and exploding, my body bucks, arching, snaking against his in an endless coil until I sag, weak, breathless, spiraling and dizzy.

  Sopping, sweaty, shaking, I purge lust over and over, stuttering hot slick muscles against an iron hard invasion which continues slicing in and out of me.

  He doesn't stop, he keeps slamming into me, every hammer point throbbing, burning, making it more sensitive. Releasing the punishing grip on my neck he smothers my face with his hand, ripping my head sideways again and sinking razor sharp teeth into my neck, poisoning my blood with neuri magic; and it's a blessing when he explodes, freezing in motion, his limbs trembling, shaking me with the sensation of electrocution, shocking me from the inside out with his volcanic orgasm.

  He roars into my ear, clamping my wrists in his hands so hard I can no longer feel my fingers. His grip turns me on so much I'm losing my mind. He's wild and brutal, and that's one of the reasons he's my perfect soulmate. I want the bruises, I want the delicious pain to remind me of him every time they hurt. Losing the teeth from my neck I'm instantly cut
off from the contraband he was injecting into my bloodstream.

  Arching his back, he lifts up in a graceful arc, bellowing to the ceiling, “I put that fucking mark on you because I love you!”

  He rams into me, “That, feel that?”

  “Yes!” I gasp, squealing in sensitive pleasure.

  Another pounding hard thrust deep into me, slamming bone into bone and mushing flesh with flesh, “That's not love!”

  He hammers into me again, over and over, emphasizing words, “This. Isn't. Love. This. Is. Fucking.”

  “I don't care,” I whimper, beginning to hurt.

  His hands squeeze with such force my arms start to bite with pain, “I care Zena. I care. I'm going to fuck you until you're bleeding and crippled, and then you will finally have nothing left to block me with. Then you're going to open your ice cold heart and let me in.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me,” he says, looking down at me with eyes so bright with gold-fire, he's hard to look at. “When I destroy the passion and the libido overriding your thoughts, which are the shield you hide behind... when I shatter that, you will finally be naked with me.”

  “I am naked with you!” I argue, struggling with his weight and grip, realizing too late that I'm well and truly stuck.

  “No, your skin stripped of clothes isn't naked. When you finally have enough of the fucking, let me know, and you can be naked with me, or fuck off out of my life. I'm not your fuck buddy. This isn't what love feels like. Love is heart to heart and mind to mind. You have to let me in to both of them before we're making love and not fucking.”

  He slides out slightly, slowly, in a tight slicked threat.

  Dropping heavily onto me, suffocating me with his body, crushing me into linen, he says in my head, Let me know when you're ready to love me, in the meantime I'll keep fucking you like the whore in heat you choose to be.

  Slam!

  Ram!

  Thick, hot, brutal, he pounds into me.

  Confused, afraid, blindfolded by the dark and his body, hot tears rush to sting my face.