On the Edge of Love (Mama's Brood Book 1) (12 page)

He watched her through the thin shower curtain, perched on the edge of the bed with a hard-on powerful enough to puncture six inches of steel plating. He growled low in his throat, a desperately feral sound to his own ears. She was killing him. Never mind that it was his idea to sit on her badly made bed and watch through the open bathroom door as she showered.

He was looking out for her. It
was
his new role. He didn’t give a damn about the idiots upstairs who argued that he didn’t need to protect her while she was in Almaya’s house, that this new duty didn’t commence until they left the mountain.

The job began once he accepted it. That’s what he had made them understand before he followed her back down to her temporary bedroom.

He watched her silhouette as she rubbed her hands over those made-for-him breasts, over her flat stomach, down to the juncture between her thighs. It wasn’t until his chest burned that he remembered he had to breathe to stay alive. He gulped air then; he wouldn’t miss a moment of this. He gripped his erection, massaged it. He’d jacked off more in the last few hours than he had in the last four years. He promised his dick here and now, once he got her to her apartment, it would only be worshipped by the wetness of her core, her mouth. That was the only thing it deserved after displaying such extreme patience and restraint.

Sabrina chose that moment to bend over and lather soap onto her legs. He imagined himself behind her, hammering into her, one hand gripping her hip, controlling her position, and the other buried into her hair as he pulled her head back, the faucet above spurting water down over her face and head.

A strange sound he didn’t even want to contemplate escaped his mouth. It wasn’t a whimper because he hadn’t emitted such a weak sound since he was a six-year-old, beaten to near unconscious by some older neighborhood boys. This was more of a plea, a groan of defeat. He picked up his fisted pace.

He watched Sabrina work her hands back and forth against her pussy, deeper, slower…

“Fuck this,” he ground out, pulling his T-shirt over his head as he rose from the bed, fully prepared to work her over until every bit of tension was released within the heat of his cum.

Sabrina stood erect, stilled like a deer in the headlights, then whipped the shower curtain back as she peeked her head out to glare at him. His fingers danced. No blade. Her brown skin was radiant from the steam and heat and water. He needed to glide his hands over every inch of her skin as he fucked her.

“Don’t even think about leaving that bed. If you do, I swear to God I’ll convince Mama…I mean, Almaya, that it would be best to have someone else be my bodyguard.”

He didn’t care. He took a step.

“I swear I will.”

His world was turning red. Too many needs, too strong, thought disintegrating into—

“Zeus,” Sabrina called to him through the haze. “Do you have the black blade on you?”

It took him a moment to comprehend what she was asking him. He frowned. What kind of ridiculous question was that?

“Always have it,” he said, knowing the sound of his voice wouldn’t register as human to civilized ears. When the need hit strong, it was hard to remember he was a man, not a half-starved boy surviving whatever way he could, not a thing that had been made mostly animal.

“Tuck yourself back in, button up your jeans, and pull out your blade. I like the black one the best.”

“Why do you want it out?”

“I want you to teach me how to use a blade like you do.” She turned off the shower and reached for the towel. The same one he had used. He liked that she would be rubbing his scent into her skin. “You make using a knife look artistic. Like a dance. Plus, it’ll help take the edge off, right? Control the compulsion?”

“Yes.”

He zipped and buttoned his pants over his erection, and sat back on the bed, pulling the black blade from the sheath at the small of his back. He wasn’t sure if she thought he was an idiot to be patronized and placated, or if she genuinely wanted him to teach her how to work a blade. Ultimately, he thought, twirling the blade in his hand, it doesn’t matter. If she wanted to believe that she could manipulate him into behaving, he didn’t mind letting her. Sooner or later she’d see not even God himself could make him move in a direction he wasn’t willing to move in.

If she genuinely wanted to learn how to kill with a blade, he would train her. He was the best person to do it. He would teach her, she would learn, and in the end he would have her. The way she was fucking with his libido, it would definitely have to be more than once.

Sabrina stepped out of the bathtub with the sage-green towel wrapped around her. She walked to an area of the bathroom outside of the range of his vision, but he could hear her dressing.

“We have to get you your own blades,” he called out. He could get her a Bowie or a push dagger, maybe a boot blade. Something that was a good size and weight for her. She liked his black dagger well enough. Maybe he’d get her one of her own. His heart did double-time. He had never contemplated getting a woman a blade before. It was like picking out the perfect diamond, the perfect wedding ring, but people got married all the time, got divorced just as often, so rings had lost their significance.

A good blade, though—he stroked the flat of his dagger—a good blade made your blood sing, like some enchanted treasure from a Grimm fairy tale. A good blade bonded with its owner, metal gleaming even brighter from the melding of human and metallic spirits.

He twirled the dagger through his fingers back and forth.

Pressure weighed on him. No buying a blade from a retailer. Maybe not even Dominic’s, his go-to man when he didn’t have time to forge his own, would do. Ultimately he’d have to create Sabrina some blades. The compulsion wouldn’t allow him to give her anything less than her soul’s reflection. He was sweating. It was a big deal making a blade for a woman, wasn’t it? Yes, because he didn’t do shit for women if he didn’t have to, unless it involved sex. But even that was mostly for him. She’d better appreciate this shit. He was thinking of giving her gifts and she hadn’t even had the grace to fuck him first. Trifling woman.

She stepped out of the bathroom, her moonstone pendant catching the light, appearing to wink at him seductively. She wore a wrecked pair of faded and frayed jeans, a pair of scraggly tennis shoes, and a short-sleeved, black Betty Boop T-shirt. On her, Bride’s clothes were tight. Sabrina was at least two sizes larger.

“I have to get home soon. I can’t breathe,” she said, pulling at the inside seams of the jeans, then the waistband. “I swear I’m going on a diet when I get back home. Damn bacon.”

“You stupid?”

At least the question stopped her from pulling on the clothing, trying to make space when there was none was to be had.

“No. I am not stupid.”

He stood up. “You made a stupid comment so I had to ask. Can’t have stupid people messing around with my knives.”

“So what? It’s stupid for me to want to lose a few pounds?”

“Your body’s fine. Don’t go fucking it up.”

She shifted into a wide-legged stance, her brows drawing together as her hands came to rest on her hips. She looked like she was ready to go to battle. He stilled the blade’s motion, gripping the woven leather hilt. She tilted her head, looking at him like he was something that didn’t make sense. Then she smiled, rattling his brain as effectively as a two-by-four to the temple.

“Why, Zeus…whatever your last name is. I do believe you just paid me a compliment.”

“I don’t have a last name, and I don’t
do
compliments.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind her as she left the room. “I’m going to pretend you just did.”

They made their way up to the first level, Sabrina leading as if she’d stayed there for months instead of hours. And most of those hours she’d spent sleeping. She adapted to new places quickly. That was good because he moved around a lot. It would be hard living with someone who couldn’t do the same. Not that he was going to be with her longer than the time it took to grab Kragen and cut his throat. If he had to move, it was best if she could do so on the fly and without complaint. The without-complaint part was critical.

“We gotta make a stop before I take you home,” he said as they moved from the second level to the first.

She turned around and cocked her eyebrow at him instead of asking a question. He liked that.

“I need to take you to get some temporary blades to practice with. Don’t have time to make you one.”

“You’re really going to teach me?”

“Said I would.”

“Yeah, you also said you would help me make my bed.”

He shrugged. “You didn’t do what you needed to do to make that happen.”

“Whatever.”

“And who taught you how to make a bed, anyway? The sisters would have had you kneeling on rice for days if you had tried to pass that mess off as a made bed at the orphanage.”

She tried to release his hand as they walked up the stairs, nearing the back door of the bar. He didn’t know if he’d made her mad by criticizing her domestic inadequacies or if she didn’t want the others to see them holding hands. He didn’t think she realized how often she initiated touching him. Even in her sleep, she’d crawled on top of him as if she had a right to do so. He wouldn’t let her release his hand. She sighed loudly.

“I don’t care,” he said, letting her know her sighs didn’t have any sway over him.

When they entered the bar, the others cut short whatever disagreement they were having and looked from Sabrina to Zeus. Almaya scooted out of the booth she’d been sharing with Coen and Price, while Bride and Lynx sat at the bar with Terry and Big Country.

Almaya stood, waving at the two of them. “See, I told you. She and Zeus have become close.”

“I wouldn’t say close,” Sabrina said even as she pressed against his side to hide their joined hands. “But we get along okay.”

“Based on that, you’re willing to condemn her to living with Zeus for some unknown length of time?” Coen asked Almaya.

“It was her idea,” Almaya said.

Coen and Price looked at Sabrina, seeking confirmation. Zeus tightened his grip, just in case she got any ideas about swapping him out for Coen since he was back.

“It was my idea,” Sabrina said. “I trust Zeus to protect me.”

Price scrubbed his hands back and forth over his face, leaning back to let his head fall on the top of the booth’s poorly cushioned back. “Okay. All right. After hours of having to listen to Juarez’s bullshit—”

“Then facing the women of his family, who clearly blamed us for his fucking stab wound.” Coen glared at Zeus.

“I am too tired to argue good sense. If you all decide Zeus will stay with Sabrina, he stays.” Price stood up. “I’m going downstairs to sleep for the next ten hours. I suggest no one disturb me.”

“I still think she needs someone a little more levelheaded close by,” Coen said after Price left the bar. “Someone else she can interact with face-to-face, as a go-between.”

“Bride will do,” Zeus said, volunteering the other woman.

Bride turned and looked at Zeus with cool contemplation before turning back around to face the bar.

“She should be the easiest to pass off,” Sabrina said. “An old friend from out of town I called to support me through this difficult time or some shit. Randy sublets one of his two bedrooms to international university students on a regular basis. It’s not rented, so Bride could stay there. It’d be easier than having one of the guys stay there. I wouldn’t want to be put in the position of having to hurt one of them if they became offended when Randy made a pass. And he will. Randy likes muscle-bound pretty men. Not that I know your preferences. Randy’s a good catch if you overlook his—”

“Bride can play backup,” Coen said.

Sabrina shrugged.

Was that disappointment Zeus saw on her face? Had Coen just let her down in some way? Why did he feel like smiling and punching the man at the same time? Curious.

When the remaining details were worked through, Sabrina changed back into her bloody clothes and Zeus covered them by wrapping her in the trench coat he had hanging in his room. Within the hour, Big Country, Bride, and Lynx had packed into Big Country’s surveillance van and made their way down the hill, Bride to join Zeus and Sabrina later at Sabrina’s apartment.

Back on the main road Big Country turned left and drove about a mile to the garage where the Brood housed their cars when in residence. After securing Sabrina in the passenger seat, Zeus threw his duffel bag into the trunk of his steel-gray Challenger, hopped into the driver’s seat, and steered his ride in the direction of the East Bay.

All was working out very fucking well, Zeus thought. Soon he’d be deeper into Sabrina’s world, her life; then he’d be making his way into her bed and into her body. This was working out very fucking well, indeed.

Chapter Five

Sabrina opened her eyes to Zeus’s profile and the landscape outside his window whizzing past. She had fallen asleep again when sleep was normally a commodity too hard for her to come by. It must have been a residual effect of the drug and the trauma her body had been dealt. What other reason could there have been for her having fallen asleep in Zeus’s presence for a second time?

Observing him, under the guise of sleep, she wondered what it would be like if he wasn’t a brutal killer who danced on the edge of madness. What if he was just a man, her man, driving her home after a weekend adventure? What if she wasn’t who she was but one of those women who were able to find a relationship that didn’t make her feel trapped? One that didn’t hurt or cause her to feel ashamed?

Nope, the sad thing was, even with the way violence and indifference made Zeus’s face mostly hard and unyielding, tempered his eyes into cold steel, shaped his interactions with others into inappropriate if not deranged experiences, she could see herself with someone like him. She’d always found herself with some similar variation. Since the age where she was finally old enough to choose who she wanted to be with, she’d never chosen well, never chosen anyone a woman right in the head would choose. Hell, a normal Zeus would be totally out of her league.