Of Alliance and Rebellion Read online

  “That’s what she said. Hah! Works in every situation.”

  “Still not funny,” Max said, reaching for the door.

  “Disagree!”

  Max closed the door behind him. In the silence of the hallway, he deflated a bit. Damn. That had been harder than he’d expected. And he had the worst taste in his mouth. It made him want to find Anahita and replace it with a much better taste. Like her skin. Or—even better—that sweet spot between her legs that he hadn’t gotten to taste yet.

  And, just like that, he was hard as a beam. “Great,” he muttered, the dull ache in his belly, which had been his constant companion since earlier today, growing to the point that he grunted.

  He needed to handle things. And soon. The Impulse pain was already getting borderline distracting.

  He spun on his heel to head off to his quarters and sucked in a breath, his hand shooting to cover his heart. “Anahita,” he said.

  The angel had been standing right behind him.

  “Uh, hey,” he said slowly, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder and make sure the door behind him was truly closed. God, he hoped she hadn’t heard anything.

  She tilted her head and looked at him. Her eyes were crystal blue, so Max tried to relax. “Are you well?” she asked. “You seem ... flustered.”

  Max stood straight and pulled his damn hand from his chest. “Men don’t fluster, pretty baby.”

  “Oh,” she said, a small smile tipping her lips. “Of course not.”

  She was teasing him now? God help him. But at least he could relax. She would definitely not be smiling at him if she’d overheard him spill her secrets. Behind the door, the sound of male laughter boomed, and Max shot into action. “Come with me,” he said quickly, reaching out and grabbing her upper arm before setting out for the main room like a man on a mission. And he was. It was called “Get the angel the hell away from the plan to betray her.”

  “Where are we going?” Anahita asked, easily keeping stride with him. “Your fingers are so warm,” she said immediately after, almost beneath her breath.

  Max skidded to a stop, his fingers clenching against her soft, soft skin. He looked down at her to find her face tipped up toward his, smile still in place.

  “I stayed away from you as long as I could,” she muttered, her smile fading. “It was so hard. Is that not wretched?”

  Heat flushed his entire body. That was the most amazing news he’d heard all day. “I don’t think it’s wretched at all,” he said past his dry mouth. “I was already coming to find you, too,” he admitted.

  “You were?”

  She looked so damn hopeful, Max wanted to cry. Why couldn’t this work for them? Why couldn’t it work? A web of itchy, hot pain shot out from his gut, and Max couldn’t prevent a grimace as he bent sideways slightly to scratch his thigh.

  Anahita’s eyes flashed golden for a moment before returning to blue. “You are hurting!”

  How many times could he blush in one day? “It’s nothing,” he murmured, surreptitiously looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping on them. “I was just headed to my quarters to take care of it. I’m fine. Really.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re hurting because of us?” Her words were startlingly loud, and several nearby heads turned in their direction.

  “Shh, Ana,” he whispered, ducking his head. “Come on now.”

  She jolted at the shortened version of her name, and Max silently cursed himself a fool. But something in her eyes made him wonder if she didn’t mind the epithet. He tried to rotate his hips so that he could adjust himself in his pants without anyone seeing, but eventually gave up. They had too much attention. Max settled for shaking his hair into his face. In an odd moment of clarity, he discovered it’d been longer than normal since he’d done such a thing. He looked back at Anahita. Were her silly words of encouragement actually having an effect on him?

  “It seems as though no matter what I do, I hurt you,” Anahita said below her breath. “I’m not a good Warrior. Not a good Guardian.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think you’re a good Anahita,” Max said even before he realized he’d meant to utter the words.

  Anahita looked up at him and rolled her eyes. Great, so she was having a good effect on him, and he’d driven an angel to learn the habit of rolling her eyes.

  For some reason, this made Max’s chest warm and his palms itch to touch her even more, and the corresponding pain shooting through his gut took his breath away. He was unable to capture a grunt before it escaped. “Okay,” he said. “I really do have to go.” He turned his back and began to walk toward the living quarters, but after a few steps he still had an angelic shadow. He stopped, and she skidded to a halt, too. “Are you ... coming with me?” he asked haltingly. A certain part of Max’s body liked that thought way too much.

  Anahita looked at her toes where they peeked through beneath the hem of her robe. “Well, I cannot leave you again so soon. My entire being rebels against it. And ... I find I do ... maybe ... want to come with you. Maybe.”

  The word yes wanted to launch itself from Max’s mouth, so he clenched his jaw and covered his mouth with his fingers. “Hmm,” he hummed. With more self-control than he thought he possessed, he turned around slowly and once more made his way toward the living quarters. The journey was a blur as he spent most of his time distracted by the riot of reaction in his very-not-quiet mind. When he stopped again, it was to find that he was standing in front of Anahita’s door. He’d led them to her quarters instead of his. The place where he already felt more at home than anywhere else in the world.

  Ah, hell. He wanted to punch himself in the face. What was he doing?

  But then, her lily scent wafted over him and he felt the heat of her body in his back as though she had stepped closer to him in anticipation, and he reached out and twisted the doorknob, stepped out of the way, and ushered her into the room beyond.

  He leaned in to catch more of her scent as she brushed past him, and the ache within him grew to the point he wondered if he was going to be able to walk on steady legs and not have to sit down.

  He trudged into the room and walked right up to where Anahita had paused in front of the coffee table, where he’d touched her before. He stepped in even closer, her wings brushing his chest, and pressed his face into the crown of her head. The soft, cool silk brushed his cheeks and closed eyelids and caught in his beard. He nuzzled his way down to her shoulder where he pressed a brief kiss to the surprisingly hot skin at the juncture of shoulder and neck. She jumped and then sighed, leaning back into him slightly.

  He took it as an invitation to continue. He kept his hips away from the tempting curve of her ass, though he could feel the heat of it penetrate the front of his pants. A distant, primitive voice was screaming in his head to thrust against that part of her. To clutch her hips with both hands and yank her to him. He shoved it aside.

  Distance. He had to have it. He felt on the verge of shattering as is.

  He ran his nose up the delicate slope of her neck until his lips reached her ear. He pressed a kiss there as he wound one arm around her waist and grabbed a handful of her robe. With the other hand, he unbuttoned his jeans and lowered the zipper: a sound that echoed in the quiet of the room. As he eased his hand into his pants, he began pulling Anahita’s robe up by the fistful, desperate to touch her.

  His breaths were pants now and stirred the hair around her ear. “God, Ana,” he groaned. “I feel like I’m already losing control.”

  His hand found the hem of her robe on its next desperate grab, and she made a hoarse exclamation as his fingertips brushed her thigh. He breathed a groan into her ear and swept his fingers up, brushing against the soft curls that hid his most favorite spot. With his other hand, he wrapped his fingers around an erection that throbbed painfully.

  With a sharp nip to her ear, he cupped her fully, sliding a finger between her lips to stroke her.

  He froze.

  “Ana?”
r />   He pressed his finger between her lips again in the hopes that he had been mistaken, and his ability to breathe left him.

  She was not even remotely wet for him.

  Every doubt in his mind came crashing down at once. With reluctance, he eased his hand from between her thighs, gripped her by her shoulders, and turned her to face him. She would not meet his eyes, and he wondered again just how ugly he really was and how it must affect how she felt about him.

  He placed his finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up. When she still refused to look at him, he said, “Ana, look at me.” He winced at how vulnerable his words sounded. He couldn’t believe he wanted her to look at him.

  She shook her head and took in a huge, shuddering breath. “I cannot do this casually anymore,” she whispered. “I find I am not curious any longer.” Her breath left her just as shakily as it had entered her. “I am just sad.”

  And then, God help him, an actual tear hit the finger that was propping up her chin.

  “Oh, no,” he breathed. “No. You can’t, Ana.” He felt as though someone had pitched a bowling ball at his stomach. He thumbed away another tear and threaded his fingers through her hair to cup her cheek.

  “Everything I almost had is gone, and everything I could have with you we both deny ourselves.” She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “I am just so tired.”

  More of those tears spilled over from her eyes, and Max was undone. He pulled her into his arms, stroking her wings while winding himself around her, and tucked her face into his neck. “Okay, pretty baby. Okay,” he muttered to her, not knowing what he was offering or—God help him—agreeing to.

  “Why is my touch so abhorrent to you?” she asked in a near wail.

  This. This was why he was an asshole. His stupid distance rule had driven her to the point of tears. And he would bet his life that nothing had managed to wrench such a reaction from her ever. He felt his well-laid plans to keep away from her crumble into dust along with his theory that he was anything but a gigantic fool.

  Did he think he was maintaining distance? She was here in his arms, crying into his neck. And he’d brought her pleasure with his hand, as she had done to him.

  What distance?

  With half a mind that he couldn’t believe what he was about to do, and the other half more than eager to get on with it, Max drew away from his angel slightly. He gathered her hands in his. “I don’t know why anyone would want to touch me,” he said. “But if it’s truly what you want, I’m an idiot to deny you.”

  Finally, finally, she raised her eyes to his. Blue heat. The irrational thought filtered through his mind. Her eyes were simultaneously hot and cold, but they were all blue—no black or gold in sight. She was here with him, not some unthinking version of Anahita.

  Unable to look away from those eyes, he raised their hands together and, after only a slight hesitation, pressed her palms to his chest.

  She sucked in a breath, and he dimly thought he heard himself do the same. Even through the fabric of his shirt, her touch was life-altering. He spread his hands across the backs of hers and pressed them further into his pecs, rubbing his fingers across hers while doing so. Now that he’d decided to break the no-touching rule, he seemed ready to do so with a vengeance. Since she could not seem to do anything but gaze into his eyes with shock-widened ones of her own, Max gripped her hands a little tighter and moved both of her palms in a small circle.

  His eyes slid closed momentarily, and all of his breath left him in a whoosh.

  God. To think he’d wasted time without her hands upon him. “Ana,” he murmured, opening his eyes once more. She was no longer looking at his face. Her eyes were zeroed in on where their hands intertwined and pressed against Max’s body.

  With a convulsive swallow, Max relinquished his hold on her. His hands returned to his sides, and he watched the top of her head to see what her next move would be.

  With her right hand, she stroked his chest, running the palm across the pads of muscle until it ran into her other hand, and then passing it back.

  Max’s eyelids grew heavy, and he sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth to bite on, worried that he would grab her or scare her in some way with the intensity of the reaction that was brewing inside of him.

  His erection, which had gone away upon finding that he was in arousal alone, was now back with a vengeance. It was trapped painfully in his pant leg and seemed to be begging to be the next thing Anahita touched in silent but insistent throbs.

  Her hands trailed down his chest, fingers brushing over his nipples, and a quick burst of air from Max’s mouth stirred Anahita’s curls. Her head shot up once more, her eyes finding his and bearing a wary question. Her lips parted; his gaze focused in on the tip of her pink tongue. She hesitantly stroked his nipples with her fingertips again, and when this time Max couldn’t contain a groan, he felt confidence pour from her.

  “So sensitive,” she whispered, licking her bottom lip.

  Max clenched his fists. He wanted that lip in his mouth. He wanted his tongue licking it.

  She pinched both of his nipples between fingers and thumbs, and Max was done. “Fuck, Ana,” he moaned. His hands launched from his sides and grabbed her hips, pulling her in. With their heights so evenly matched, his erection ground against her mound, and he could feel her heat. She was burning up. “Oh, God,” he whispered, thrusting his hips forward to come into better contact with her. “I want you so bad, I can hardly breathe, Ana.”

  Her breathing hitched and then returned at a quicker rate. “Want?” she asked breathlessly. “What do you want?”

  “You. Naked and spread out underneath me.” His hands wandered the curve of her hips until he was able to palm her ass. He thrust against her again, his cock grinding in exquisite torture, and at the same time, he used his grip on her ass to thrust her lower body into his. Her eyes widened and her breathing increased even more. “I want to be inside you. God, Ana,” he said, feeling frantic and as though he were going to burst into a million pieces from frustration. “I can’t—”

  Anahita whimpered, cutting Max off. Was that the sound she’d make as he entered her and began to move inside her as deeply as he could? Her hands fisted in his shirt, and she began pulling on it almost fretfully. “Skin,” she breathed. “I need to touch you.” She began pulling his shirt up. “Max,” she pleaded.

  He pulled his hands from her firm ass only long enough to reach behind his shoulders and haul his shirt up and over his head. He tossed it toward the sofa, and then reached for her again, pulling her into his arms and palming her rear end to pull her into another thrust.

  She gasped. “Your body,” she whispered.

  Max paused mid-thrust, alarm shooting through him until he noticed that her eyes were caressing his torso, not wide and fixed with disgust. They were tracing every line and ridge of muscle Max possessed. She moaned and raised her hands.

  Her palms hovered over his pecs, and Max found himself holding his breath. When her hands finally landed over his nipples and he felt her skin upon his for the first time, a shudder wracked his body. “Touch me,” he begged. “Touch me everywhere.” He tried to catch his breath, but every muscle—lungs included—in his body was frozen. “Ana,” he said, her name a prayer.

  “Everywhere,” she repeated. “Yes.” She traced her fingers along one of the ridges of his abdomen and then followed the center divide down to his pants. She began to work his open fly even more apart, and Max felt something in his world shift. She was unclothing him—would soon have him…

  “Pretty angel,” he whispered. “If you take off my pants, I’ll be naked.”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  He groaned. “Ana, hold on.” He placed a hand over hers to still her movements, though it took all of his willpower to do so. “Baby, if I’m naked, I’m going to lose my control with you.”

  She flicked his hands away. “That had better be a promise,” she said, returning to her work and wrest
ling his pants wide open.

  As her words registered with his lust-ridden brain, Max realized they were at the point of no return, and he had no intention of turning back. With one more try, he said, “Be very sure, Ana, because I can’t handle it if you ask me to stop. It will destroy—I will stop, of course—but, Ana—”

  She stilled and laid a finger across his lips. “Max,” she said softly, looking into his eyes. “I want you. I do not want you to stop. I want to touch you with my hands—with my body—until we are both sated.”

  Max’s mouth went dry. Sated. An image of them intertwined, sweaty, and breathless floated through his mind, and he knew sated was going to be an elusive concept. He would always want more of her.

  She was still looking into his eyes, and he got the impression that she was waiting for some sort of acknowledgement—maybe even permission—from him. One of her hands was fisted on the waistband of his pants.

  Knowing he was changing things forever, he gave one curt nod. She smiled up at him. She pulled her finger from his lips and, with both hands, worked his pants down his hips.

  They both watched as more of his skin was revealed. With his cock pinned the way it was, it took a little more time than normal for that part of him to make an appearance, but when it did, she paused. With an index finger, she traced the indention at the point where his erection met his body, and Max’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head.

  He hummed from between closed lips, and she repeated the movement.

  He needed his pants off. Now. “Ana, please,” he begged. “The rest of the way.”

  He could see the corners of her mouth tip up, but blessedly, she grabbed his pants once more and worked them down to the middle of his thighs. As soon as his erection was free, it sprang to attention between them, and she gasped.

  He bent at the waist a little to lay his hands over hers where they were still knotted in the fabric of his pants, hoping in some way to garner what she was thinking and to offer reassurance if she was panicked.