Page 13

Ruining Scarlett

He followed her down, pinning her wrists above her head, his body pressing against hers. His breath came slow and measured while hers was ragged.

“You weren’t ready.” His voice was low, smug.

Scarlett swallowed, glaring up at him. “You caught me off guard.”

His smirk deepened. “Because you… are off guard.”

He lingered, his massive body pressing into hers, forcing her to feel him. It wasn’t the first time they’d practiced this, but it was the first time he let her feel everything she’d wondered all along. What did his muscles feel like? All of them at once. The heat radiating from his body penetrated every part of her, causing her muscles to tense in places they shouldn’t.

His dark eyes flicked down her face, lower—searching.

Then, he let her go, pushing off her like he hadn’t just set her entire nervous system on fire.

Scarlett scrambled up, trying to shake off the shiver running down her spine. She surely could not let him win. She at least had to put up a long enough fight to prove him wrong. He wasn’t the only one teaching a lesson here.

“Again,” he ordered.

She barely had time to nod before he lunged. This time, she reacted faster, twisting her body to escape his grip. He shifted, slid in behind her and wrapped his arm around her middle, yanking her back against his chest.

Her back met the solid wall of his body, just as hard as the floor. Instead of releasing her instantly like he usually did, his lips moved to her ear. “Too slow,” he murmured.

Scarlett stiffened, her breath coming too fast, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

“Are you scared?” His voice dipped, smug and teasing. “Or is it something else?”

She twisted, trying to break free, but he tightened his hold, his palm splaying over her stomach.

“Hmm,” he mused, his tone pure trouble. “Maybe it’s both.”

Scarlett’s jaw clenched. “Let me go.”

He did. Instantly. And once again, she stumbled forward, her body scrambling to catch up with her mind.

He chuckled. “That’s two.”

Scarlett spun to face him, breathless, frustrated, and other things she’d die before naming.

“Again,” he said.

This time, she was ready.

Or so she thought.

Spar moved, but instead of grabbing her, he faked high, then ducked low, sweeping her legs out from under her.

She hit the mat hard, a shocked gasp ripping from her throat.

Before she could move, he was above her again, straddling her waist and pinning her hands to the mat.

A slow smile curled his lips. “You should see yourself right now.”

Scarlett’s cheeks burned. “Spar.”

His grip tightened. “You’re flustered.”

“Duh!”

His eyes flicked to the pulse hammering at her throat. He let go abruptly, rolling off her with an ease that made her want to scream. “That’s three,” he said, standing, offering her a hand.

She whacked it away, pushing herself up. “Why are you doing this?” she demanded.

“Doing what?”

“Playing games with me like you have some…right to me. You have no right to me.”

Spar tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “You think this is a game?”

“Oh, I know it is, yes.”

He shook a finger at her. “Then you’re not ready.”

Scarlett’s hands curled into fists. “Ready for what?”

Spar stepped closer, dropping his voice. “To face a man who can actually break you.”

Her stomach twisted.

“I told you, little sister,” he went on. “I’m preparing you.”

She swallowed hard, still confused about his entire point. But the point she needed to make—and would surely make—still burned along her spine. “Then do it again.”

Spar’s gaze sparked with something unreadable. Before she could blink, he had her wrist again, twisting her around. His chest met her back, his grip tightening just enough, bringing her sharp inhale.

“Fight it,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear.

Scarlett gritted her teeth, trying to focus, trying to break free—but his hand splayed over her stomach, and for a split second, she forgot why she was supposed to.

Spar made a sound—deep, low, knowing.

“Interesting.”

Scarlett twisted, breaking free, shoving him away.

But the damage was done. He knew. She could see it in his eyes.

“That’s four,” he murmured.

Scarlett clenched her jaw. “One more.”

His smirk was pure sin. “You sure?”

“Very.”

He exhaled, tilting his head. Then—he struck.

This time, he didn’t take her down immediately. He let her fight. Let her struggle. And when he did take her down, it was slow, controlled—until she was on her back, his weight fully on her, face inches from hers.

More than her breath stalled inside her, and not only from his weight.

He watched her. And then—he smiled. “You’re mine, little sister.”

Scarlett’s pulse roared in her ears. “I—”

“You just haven’t figured it out yet.”

He rolled off bringing a gasp from her lungs as he stood easily, leaving her breathless on the mat.

“That’s five.”

Scarlett stayed where she was, staring up at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling too fast. She was in trouble. And he knew it.

Her breath heaved as she stood, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Every inch of her burned—from exertion, from embarrassment, from the way he toyed with her like she was nothing more than an amusement. Her cheeks were on fire, her pulse roaring in her ears, and his smirk was the match threatening to ignite every last shred of her composure.

“Again,” she ground out.

Spar’s brows lifted slightly, his expression almost… pleased. That cocky, infuriating half-smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Again?” he repeated, lazy and slow, like he was savoring the challenge.

Scarlett squared her stance and hardened her jaw. “You heard me.”

He exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly as if considering. “You sure? You’re already so embarrassed, little sis.”

Her stomach twisted at the way he said it. Like he owned the title. Like he owned her.

Her fingers curled tighter. “Very.”

Spar chuckled, low and dark before gesturing to the space between them.

“Alright then. Let’s see if you learned anything.”

Scarlett took a slow, steadying breath. She’d been too rattled last time. Too caught off guard by his closeness, his heat, the way he caged her literally and effortlessly.

She couldn’t let that happen again.

Spar moved first, his speed inhuman, but this time, she was ready. When he lunged, she sidestepped, anticipating the grip he’d go for. He was testing her, seeing if she’d fall for the same tricks.

He smirked, but this time, it was different. Something sharper. Hungrier.

“Not bad,” he muttered. “Let’s see how long you can keep up.”

Scarlett barely had time to brace before he came at her again, a calculated blur of movement. She pivoted, but he caught her this time, a vice grip on her arm before he swept her legs out from under her.

She hit the ground hard with a sharp gasp.

Before she could process, he was on her. Straddling her hips, his feet pinning her thighs down, hands braced on either side of her head.

Scarlett froze at feeling it. That part of him he’d kept from her was now also pressing and pinning. His heat was everywhere as his smirk returned, slow and taunting. “You were saying?”

Scarlett’s heart pounded against her ribs. She twisted, trying to get a knee between them, only managing to get more of what she fought to escape feeling.

His lips hovered above her ear, his voice an insufferable murmur. “You fight like a soldier. But you react like a woman.”

Scarlett’s entire body seized with heat and rage. “Get. Off.”

His breath fanned across her neck, and she hated the way her pulse jumped. “What’s wrong, nun? Something distracting you?”

Scarlett turned her head sharply, eyes blazing into his. “I hate you.”

His smile widened. “No. You don’t.”

And then he rolled his hips. It was barely anything—a slow, deliberate shift of weight, but Scarlett’s breath hitched, her body betraying her. It seemed the only thing she had in this war was the fury he was so good at provoking.

His pupils flared, locking onto her with a wolfish glint. “Oh,” he murmured, feigning surprise. “You really don’t hate me.”

Scarlett’s rage flared, panic creeping beneath it. “You’re disgusting.”

Spar laughed, dark and low. “Am I? Or are you just mad I’m making you feel what you already do?”

She shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge.

“Let me go,” she hissed.

“Make me.”

Her blood burned with each ragged breath as she strained against him. “You’re trying to prove something,” she snapped. “That I’m weak? That I—” She cut herself off, jaw clenching.

He tilted his head, watching her. Waiting.

She hated him. She hated him. And she hated herself for the way her body trembled beneath his.

“I’m trying to prove that you’ll break,” he murmured, his lips just over hers now. “That all I have to do is push a little, and you’ll come crumbling down.”

Scarlett’s throat tightened as he pushed with his manhood. He wanted to ruin her for a soldier. And maybe he would, maybe he already had, but she’d die before ever admitting it. She didn’t even care if he knew it, he’d never get that confession.

With a sharp twist, she threw her weight into her hips, wrenching herself just enough to slip one leg free. Spar realized too late, his grin vanishing a split second before she drove her knee up between them.

Spar growled.

But it wasn’t a pained noise. It was hungry.

Scarlett tried to shove him again, and this time, he let her go.

She scrambled back, chest heaving, eyes wild.

He sat back on his haunches, watching her with dark, gleaming eyes. And then—he licked his lips. A slow, deliberate flick of his tongue, as if tasting the fight still in the air.

Scarlett’s skin prickled. She should run. Now.

Instead, she wiped the sweat from her brow and hissed, “Again.”

****

Scarlett hit the mat with a brain jarring force this time, but the takedown hadn’t come so quickly. She’d out maneuvered four attacks in a row so by the time she ate crow, she was gasping on ragged breaths under the crush of his body, wrists pinned above her head with a single hand.

His massive legs locked hers open, putting her in a cage of body heat and hot, slow breaths. “So you’re physically stronger,” she forced out, voice tight with defiance. “And that’s your limit.”

A slow, knowing grin curled his lips. “Is that so?” His voice was full of smoke, challenge and amusement. “Then tell me, Sister. Why are you shaking?”

Scarlett clenched her jaw, the betrayal of her own body infuriating. She couldn’t stop the way her pulse thundered in her throat, or the way heat pulsed low in her belly. Couldn’t stop the way his presence, his dominance, set fire to everything she was supposed to be. “It’s called adrenaline, you moron,” she finally answered between breaths.

Spar tilted his head, and she flinched with the skim of his nose along the line of her jaw. It travelled down to the frantic pulse hammering at her throat. “You talk like you’re still in control,” he murmured, voice soft, warning. “Like I don’t feel what’s happening to you.”

He shifted just enough, and her breath sucked in sharp with the press of his thigh, right against the spot that boiled with weakness. Her face burned with shame and fury, then something far worse, when she arched into the friction before she could stop herself.

A thick groan rolled through his chest, a hungry vibration pressing into her as he watched her face closely. “Was that an oops?”

She clenched her jaw. “Get off of me.”

He deliberated with a thick, hot hum. “I don’t think so.” His thigh pressed again, purposefully. Firm. She choked back a sound, her fingers curling into useless fists above her head. His eyes stayed locked on hers, watching, studying, drinking in every response she couldn’t control.

“See, that’s the problem with you, little angel,” he said, voice hushed, like they were sharing a secret. “You like to pretend you’re not as dirty as I am.”

Scarlett bit the inside of her cheek, refusing to look away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of breaking.

He shifted his weight again, a slow grind that sent pleasure shooting through her body like wildfire and forcing her spine to bow off the mat from the heat curling inside her.

His eyes went dark, hooded, a fire now moving over her. “That’s it,” he whispered, barely more than a breath against her skin. “Let yourself feel it, angel.”

She choked on the sounds she fought to swallow. “I don’t—”

Another drag of his leg against her core brought a pulse of molten pleasure, turning her words into a broken, hitched inhale.

His mouth moved along her cheek, stopping at her ear. “You gonna lie to me again?”

Scarlett clenched her eyes tight, her chest rising too fast, too hard. “I hate you,” she blasted, her breaths edged with tiny, helpless grunts.

“Yeah?” he murmured, flexing his thigh again, the pressure just right, just enough. “You hate this right here?”

Her stomach clenched with her gasp. “It… doesn’t count,” she gasped, even as her body moved helplessly, chasing the rhythm, the pressure, the pleasure. “You’re… making me.”

“I am,” he admitted, his breath burning her ear. “But I don’t need to.”

The warning stole her breath as he eased his leg from between hers and lay next to her, keeping tight hold of her wrists.

Instinctively, she clamped them shut, the absence of his assault filling her muscles with a hot, low hum.

She watched him and her breath hitched at the barest glide of his fingers along her hip, tracing down to her thigh till her breaths were back to ragged. Ragged with need and hope and fear. She realized his intention. No more force. Escape was now possible. And yet the single finger, gliding along the seam of her closed legs was suddenly more powerful than his whole body pressing down on her.

She closed her eyes, pulling her brows together, willing, praying for the strength to break away from him. But then she might never know what was at the end of the exquisite pressure beating between her legs.

“You want this?” he whispered, his tone testing as his fingers made it to her privates beneath the cotton bloomers. He gently toyed, teased. “You want it right here?” His touch pressed, right on the perfect spot and she fought the burning need for more now ripping her open. She could only pant for air, fighting to push away from it, only to push into it. “My little nun,” he whispered right at her ear. “Show me you want it.”

Her back arched with her gasp when his hot tongue flicked her ear lobe as a wave of heat rolled through her body, causing her to squirm. Her mouth refused to close. She was on fire. Her lungs, her body, even her heavy, hooded eyes burned with it.

“There’s my sweet fucking angel,” he shuddered as her legs opened just a crack, gasping on the moans straining out of her. His lips moved over her face as he slipped his hand inside the bloomers and the second his fingers moved over that exact spot, her entire body bucked with her sharp cry, her legs shaking, opening more.

“Tell me to stop,” he croaked at her ear, sliding his fingers lower, shuddering as he explored. “Dripping silk,” he accused, his hot words a torment with the slow swirl of his fingers.

She opened wider and his fingers turned deliciously painful on her wrists as he worked a finger so very slowly inside her.

Her head thrashed with tiny, sharp cries.

“Tell me to fucking stop,” he breathed thickly at her ear as he sank further in. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

The promise came as his finger reached the very depths of her. His hand pushed into that place of glorious heat, bringing her hips up in a thrust. “Please.”

His mouth covered her astonished gasps, his breaths thick and hot like his tongue. It moved so slowly against hers, a firm aggression like he used deep inside her. “Please stop?” he asked, mostly hot wind as his hand smashed circles against her body and his finger flicked with a delicious force.

His mouth left hers and covered her clothed breast with a growl, bringing a sharp arch in her back with her rapturous cry. Everything was too hot, too much.

“Spar!” she called, shocked and scared at how massive it was and that it continued to grow.

His mouth flew back to hers. “I’m right here, angel,” he shuddered, kissing at the edge of her mouth, getting wider with every second. “I got you, baby.”

Her breath sucked in deep and froze in her chest as it claimed her body. His tongue plunged in her mouth with a terrifying growl his thrusts turning faster, harder, a relentless pounding against her body. It obliterated her. And he kissed her through it. Oh God. Oh God, oh God, what was happening, what was this? What was this glorious, soul crushing ecstasy exploding through her?

****

Spook stared blindly into the darkness beyond the glass window. It was only day three into Eveque’s week of recovery. But really, time didn’t exist until he was back. Which made every second an eternal purgatory where he prayed the same stupid prayer, over and over because it’s the only one he’d ever learned.

His phone vibrated and he pulled it out of his back pocket, already knowing it was another text from his wife. She was being an angel, pretending like she didn’t mind him never coming home. But he couldn’t leave him. Somehow, he was his lifeline and as long as he was there, death couldn’t take him.

“Hey, Angel,” he murmured into the phone.

“Soooo,” she began upon answering, making his cock twitch. “I was thinking.”

“Tell me,” he ordered, so fucking hungry for her.

“I should bring you cooked food,” she announced. “And… maybe a little desert. To help… hold you over?”

“Fuck,” he breathed, hearing she meant her pussy on a plate. “I’ll take desert for the main course,” he said, that bat bite not allowing him to say no. “When?”

“Now,” she whispered, her arousal bringing a bolt of heat.

“How are you getting here?” he asked, her safety forcing its way to the front.

“Would you be mad to learn I’m already here?”

He spun around, looking. “Where?”

“In the parking lot. Don’t worry, Nitro took a safe route by boat. And don’t worry, Felix was with us.”

His breath released along with only half of his bat-induced jealous rage. “I’m coming to get you. Which parking lot?”

“The one facing the wall of glass with the… outdoor courtyard next to it.”

“I’m on my way.”

Spook’s adrenaline was dizzying as he hurried through the buildings till he reached the right one. It was late for her to be out. She’d need to stay the night. Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner?

The second she spotted him, she took off running. His heart pounded in his chest as he speed-walked toward his incoming angel, catching her body with his, her squeals dissolving into moans under his hungry kiss.

“Fuck, I missed you baby,” he swore, not wanting to ever set her down.

She smiled, tilting her head left and right, getting his kisses at every angle.

“You’ll stay the night with me?”

She sucked in a happy breath. “I can?”

“You can,” he swore, ready to sleep in a closet with her if he had to.

She squirmed her way out of his arms and ran, squealing her way back toward Felix and Nitro at the edge of the parking lot.

Nitro met him halfway and Spook braced for questions. “Bat King,” he greeted, reaching out for his hand, getting a firm shake before he pulled him into a hug.

“Spook,” he returned, pressing his forehead to his briefly before stepping back. “How you holding up?” he asked, his gaze digging.

“I’m good,” Spook said, shoving his hands in his coat pockets and looking off at the tree line. “Eveque’s alive, that’s all that matters.”

“Four more days,” Nitro said, glancing back at the women then digging his gaze harder on him. “How’s your symptoms?”

He let out half a laugh. “Raging,” he muttered. “Glad you brought my wife.”

He gave a slow grin before lowering it. “I figured,” he said. “Any other symptoms?”

He pretended to think about it, not intending to discuss it. “I think I hear better,” he said, offering a small piece of the truth.

Nitro eyed him, eyes still mining. “Just curious if the bites are different,” he said.

Spook gave a shrug. “A question for Lesion, maybe. He came and collected blood from me yesterday.”

“I need to report to him too. I think… Felix is pregnant.”

Spook’s stomach tensed as he watched his brother get extra shifty. “Lesion knows?”

He shook his head, gaze moving over the parking lot. “I’m…” He took a deep breath and released it with a shake of his head.

“Fucked up, I see.”

His stare drilled into his. “And possibly horrified. Petrified.”

“What you worried about?” he wondered, not looking forward to that particular fear.

“What’s not to worry about?” He shook his head and angled a curious look at him. “Be glad you took the bite after the fact.”

Spook regarded him, confused. “After what fact?”

His gaze flew up to his. “Oh fuck,” he barely breathed, looking down. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” he demanded, adrenaline trying to bust through his veins right as Maggie stepped up with an armful of things.

“I brought everything but the kitchen sink,” she gasped with a happy laugh.

Spook’s pulse slammed his chest as he looked down and took the bags from her.

“I can carry some,” she fussed.

“I got it,” he said, his voice harder than he meant. He leaned and kissed her cheek. “I got it,” he repeated softer, ready to throw up his fucking guts.