Page 35 of Gods and Graves

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

THEA

E verett is kissing me.

Gruff, antagonistic Everett is kissing me.

On the mouth.

With lips.

And tongue.

Oh my god.

I come to my senses—albeit slowly—and place my hands on his chest, giving him a slight push. On my own, I’m not strong enough to move him, but he parts from me without complaint, his hazel eyes hooded with desire. The unbridled heat in his gaze makes my stomach curdle.

“Everett, you need to speak clearly. What do you want from me?” I can’t help the vulnerability that seeps into my voice.

I don’t think I can handle him pulling me in and then pushing me away again. My poor heart has been abused and beaten and stomped on; it’s understandably fragile, and I’m terrified the wrong word will break it completely.

“I…I want a chance, Thea. That’s all.” His fingertips graze my cheek, leaving tingles in their wake.

Everett has pushed me away from the very first day, yet he continually looked after me in his own subtle way. He fed me, bought me clothes, protected me. Beneath his cantankerous exterior is a total teddy bear.

Before I can lose my nerve, I lean forward and kiss him once more. I hold perfectly still, simply breathing him in, and then his lips begin to move underneath mine. Slowly. Seriously. It feels as if he’s savoring the kiss, savoring me.

A giddy, euphoric feeling bubbles in my chest as I deepen the kiss, reaching out to run my fingers through his shaggy, blond-brown hair. The strands feel soft to the touch, and when I tug on them, he growls low in his throat. The sound sends a rippling wave of heat straight through me.

I push both of our blankets aside and move until I’m straddling his lap. His hard cock presses against me, straining against the denim of his jeans.

Holy fuck.

I didn’t expect kissing Everett to be like this. He consumes me, one swipe of his tongue at a time. My entire body transforms into one giant goose bump, and wave after wave of fire rushes through my veins.

Everett gently pushes me away, his lips slightly puffy and a dazed expression on his face.

“Thea…” He says my name like a prayer, his face scrunching together in what appears to be pain.

“Everett,” I say.

“We need to stop.” Even as he says this, he thrusts his hips upwards, his cock brushing against me oh so deliciously through the material of his pants.

“Umm…” Instinctively, I rock against him, and he moans low in his throat. “You don’t really seem like you want to stop.”

“Want to?” He chuckles wickedly. “No. Need to?” He lowers his hands to my waist and then lifts me up as if I weigh nothing. He deposits me onto the couch beside him once more. “I’m not going to fuck you today, baby.”

“But…why?”

Do I whine? Yes. I have absolutely no shame. Apparently, my time on this earth has transformed me into a shameless hussy.

A dark, ravishing smile tugs up his lips. “Because I want to be worthy of you before I fuck you. I want to earn every moan you give me, every plea for more. And when I finally take you to bed, there will be no going back for either of us. You will be mine.”

His eyes ensnare mine, burning with possession. “So let me woo you. Let me be worthy of you. Then I’ll rip your clothes apart, spread your creamy thighs, and fuck you until you’re screaming my name for everyone to hear.”

I gulp as liquid heat rushes through me.

Is it hot in here?

I absently bring my hand up to fan my cheeks, hoping that will help alleviate the fire in them.

Everett smirks cockily, as if he knows exactly where my mind has gone, and leans forward to kiss my forehead. “Go to bed, baby. We have a busy day ahead of us.”

I attempt to swallow around the ball of daggers in my throat. “A-are you going to bed?”

“I think I’m going to take a shower first. A long, cold shower.” With that, he stands, and I automatically flick my gaze to the massive bulge in his pants.

Warmth envelops me instantly.

“Yeah. A shower… A shower sounds good. Make sure to use soap and water,” I ramble as he walks away, his husky laugh drifting back to me.

Fuck.

Deciding that Everett has the right idea, I hurry towards the bedroom they deemed as mine and dart into the en suite bathroom. I really wish I’d showered earlier, before the stench of death and engine grease and mold permeated the air. Ugh. I’m sooo not used to showering.

I like it, though.

There’s something refreshing about the warm water pelting me from above, washing away the worries and fears of the day.

When I step out of the shower twenty minutes later, I feel infinitely lighter, like the weight of the world has been washed away.

I pad back into my room in only a towel…and nearly jump a foot in the air at the sight of the familiar blood fae reclining against the stack of pillows.

Rafe’s dressed for bed, wearing a black T-shirt and shorts. I’ve never seen him like this before. It’s not as if he dresses fancy normally, but he’s usually never showing so much skin. Every time I’ve seen him before, he’s been wearing long pants and an oversized hoodie.

A knot forms in my throat as I drift my gaze over his muscular arms and legs, the latter covered with thousands and thousands of tiny cuts and scars.

Concern knits my brows together, and I hurry forward, momentarily forgetting I’m only in a towel.

“What happened here?” I kneel beside him and gently trace one of the ragged lines on his calf.

He shivers slightly, his hooded eyes fixed on my own. “You know how I get my magic.”

I do. He…cuts himself.

I’ve never thought too much about it before—hell, I even thought it was beautiful—but to see the evidence firsthand…

“Why didn’t they heal?” I whisper, lifting my fingers to another scar, this one just above his knee. “I’ve seen you cut your palm numerous times, but there are no scars there.”

“These healed once upon a time,” Rafe confesses with a shrug. “Until they didn’t. Soon, it’ll be the same for my palms. Then when those become too scarred, I’ll move to my wrists and arms.”

He says all this nonchalantly, not knowing that every word is a whip that slashes at my skin.

“I don’t like the thought of you hurting yourself,” I whisper.

He stills nearly imperceptibly, his muscles locking together. “I have to.”

“I know, but…” I gently trace a third scar, this one on his thigh. “I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”

He tilts his head to the side, studying me curiously. I can’t quite read the emotions percolating in his dark, fathomless gaze.

When he speaks next, his voice is a mere husk. “I’ve never cared about being hurt before.”

“Well, I’ll care enough for the both of us,” I say.

Before I can touch a fourth scar, he grabs my wrist, his fingers digging into my skin hard enough to bruise. His touch is a startling contrast to Everett’s, who treated me like I was fragile.

“I can heal from almost everything,” he rasps out. “We all can. But repeated injuries can be lasting on fae, which is why my body is covered in scars. Is it…?” His brows clench together. “Is it ugly?”

“Of course not.” Nothing about Rafe—or any of the guys, for that matter—is ugly.

It’s incredibly unfair.

A dark, sinful smile tugs up his lips, and a shiver ripples down my spine at the sight. “I heard what happened out in the living room.” He leans forward until his lips graze the shell of my ear. “Everett left you needy, didn’t he?”

The reminder sends heat gushing through me. A whimper escapes me.

“You’re aching, aren’t you, little bird?” His voice is a raspy, seductive pull that tugs at me, propelling me towards him. “You want my touch. My lips. My cock. Do you want me to give them to you?”

I rub my thighs together instinctively, but I don’t answer. I can’t. I’m incapable of speech.

Everett doused me in gasoline, and Rafe just lit the match.

Abruptly, the blood fae grabs a fistful of my hair, pulling my head back.

“Use your words,” he growls.

“Yes,” I pant out. “Yes, I want you to touch me. Kiss me. Fuck me.”

His smile broadens, and the sight has wetness coating my thighs.

“Good answer.” He lowers his gaze to the towel still wrapped around me. “Get rid of the towel.”

“But…”

“Now, little bird.” He tugs harder on my hair, eliciting a gasp.

Quickly—and somewhat awkwardly considering, I’m still kneeling on the bed with a portion of the towel underneath me—I untie it and let it fall to the ground.

Rafe’s hungry gaze trails over me, the desperation in his eyes making my core pulse.

“You’re so beautiful, Thea,” he rasps, his fingers moving to my aching nipples and pulling tightly.

I gasp and instinctively arch my back, pushing my breasts farther into his groping hands.

“And you’re mine, aren’t you?” He tugs my nipples harshly and then releases them. “Say you’re mine.”

Those words are a dark, insidious threat that shouldn’t make me as wet as I am.

But I’ve come to realize I’m a little fucked up, especially when it comes to these men.

“I’m yours,” I breathe, wilting towards him.

I want him to kiss me. Would his kisses be playful and passionate like Krystian’s and Krys’s? Would they be soft but possessive like Everett’s?

“Good girl,” he praises, bringing his hands back to my tender breasts to play with them. “Now, what I want to do to you might be a little scary, but I promise you that you’re safe. Everything I do is for your pleasure only.”

My heart begins to pound even faster, fear and intrigue mingling in my chest. “What do you want to do to me?”

His hands leave my breasts and trail down my arms, stopping when they reach my wrists.

“I’ll tie you here.” He releases my wrists and moves his hands down my stomach, my thighs, my calves…and finally land on my ankles, extended behind me. “And here.”

“You want to tie me up?” I ask, my stomach tightening.

“I want to spread you out like my own personal feast.” His voice is a dark, seductive promise.

I bite down on my lower lip. “Will it hurt?”

“Maybe at times,” he confesses. “But that pain will only help amplify your pleasure.”

I consider, trailing my gaze across his painfully handsome face.