his face to still the heated echo of his father's fist.
That soured his thoughts. Instantly he was
back there, slamming into the door in his father's
study, too small, too weak, too pathetic to strike
back.
Byrnes turned away from the memories,
forcing them into that little locked box in his mind
where he could pretend they didn't exist. He felt
ill, as he always did when he thought of the
viscount, but controlling it was easy. Lock it away.
Lock it up tight. Don't ever let it out.
The guilt was not so easy to hide.
"Am I hurting you?" Ingrid's voice helped
draw him into the present. She gently wound clean
linen around the gauze that she'd packed over his
wound. A chill told him that the craving virus was
flooding back into the inflamed skin. By the end of
an hour, there wouldn't even be a scratch.
Which made this a complete and utter waste
of her time.
He said nothing though, because he quite liked
those warm hands on his skin. "You're not hurting
me."
The tension that had radiated through her
shoulders seemed to ebb.
"Were you fretting?" he teased, then instantly
wished he hadn't. Dark lashes fluttered down over
her gorgeous eyes, but she couldn't hide how upset
she looked in that moment. The bottom of his
stomach dropped, much like it had when he
rappelled down through the core of the staircase.
Because the answer was yes. And he didn't
know what to do about it.
"Ingrid," he said hesitantly. "I'm incredibly
difficult to kill. It’s fine.”
"I wasn't there," she growled, throwing the
small scalpel aside and pressing her hands to her
thighs. "And all I could hear was gunfire, then you
and Charlie come bursting out, pushing at me to run
and blathering about vampires, and you're
bleeding, and you wouldn't let me see to it in the
carriage—" She pressed her curled fists into her
eyes, turning away from him.
It was the most extraordinary thing. Byrnes
stared at her bowed back, thinking through a
response. The most immediate one was another
jest, but she was genuinely upset.
Nobody had ever been upset about his
injuries before. Nobody had ever cared enough.
There was a strange feeling in his chest, like a
lump. Perhaps of coal, since he didn't have a heart.
"Ingrid," he said, sliding down the bed toward her
and cupping her arms from behind.
"Don't hold this against me," she growled,
bowing her head lower. "I'm verwulfen. I can't
help feeling this way, this—"
"Upset?"
"It doesn't mean anything," she pointed out.
Byrnes turned her around, holding out his arm.
"See...." The scent of blood had vanished. "Just a
scratch. Almost gone already, though I'll thank you
for your ministrations. And I wouldn't hold
anything against you. I like it when you get angry."
Reaching out, he cupped her face in his palm. "I
like the fact that you care enough about me to grow
agitated when I'm injured—"
"Byrnes—"
"You care. Don't lie. It's written all over your
face."
That didn't soothe the savage wild he saw in
her eyes. Ingrid was close to the edge tonight, and
one push would rouse her fierce verwulfen nature.
Sliding his hands down her arms to soothe her, he
instinctively kissed the tip of her nose. "After all,
how could you not? How could you resist me?”
Ingrid couldn’t fight the faint tug of her lips
upwards. “I’m glad that someone thinks you’re
wonderful. Too bad it’s only you.”
He rubbed her arms, laughing under his
breath. “You think I’m wonderful. Admit it, Ingrid.
You wouldn’t be in here fussing over me if you
didn’t.”
“Arrogant fool.” She set her hand to his chest.
“And you like me fussing.”
True. He smiled and tugged on a lock of her
hair, which only earned him a swat with her hand.
“Ouch,” he said, drawing his arm against his
chest.
Instantly she was all contrition. “Oh, I’m
sorry! Did I hurt you? Did I—”
He used the moment to capture her in his
arms, dragging her half into his lap. “Yes, you did
hurt me. Kiss it better?”
That earned him a narrow-eyed look, but she
didn’t push him away this time. Instead her fingers
toyed with his collar and she glanced down. “I
never thought you’d have this side to you,” she
admitted.
“Roguish?”
“Playful.”
That made him thoughtful. He nibbled on her
fingertips. This was more than pleasant. Seeing her
eyes light up verwulfen bronze made his blood
sing through his veins. Teasing her had begun to
feel like the highlight of his day. But he wasn’t
about to admit that. “You should see me in bed,” he
told her instead.
Ingrid sighed. “You’re the most frustrating
man I know.”
“That's unlikely to—"
The kiss took him by surprise. Her fists
curled in his open shirt and her soft lips brushed
his. Byrnes had missed the minute change in her
expression that preceded this. He stilled, letting
her draw back, and tasting the soft wash of her
breath on his sensitized lips.
“Sorry,” she whispered, glancing up at him
from beneath those dark lashes with a teasing glow
in her eyes.
“Liar. You’re not sorry at all.” Byrnes
brushed his mouth against her cheek, nuzzling
closer to her lips. “You do realize that’s not going
to end there.”
He felt her smile. “Isn’t it? Maybe I don’t
want it to.”
For too long he’d been kept at arm’s length,
determined to be patient and outwait her. No more.
Byrnes slid his hand up to caress her nape and
drew her mouth to his. She tasted both sweet and
sinful, her mouth opening to his as he deepened the
kiss. The first lash of her tongue felt like it stroked
along his cock. Byrnes slid his spare hand up her
thigh, his fingers sinking in a little harshly as he
fought to contain himself. Christ. His body ignited
as Ingrid slid fully into his lap, straddling him. The
kiss became hungrier. Deeper. Possessive. And it
was moving in a clear direction.
Maybe I don’t want it to?
The game slipped away, the challenge, the
conquest.... He was surprised by how much he
wanted this. Her. Just her. Hands hesitating on her
hips, he drew back at the thought.
"I haven't been drinking tonight," she
reminded him in a soft voice, as if she thought that
the reason he'd withdrawn.
Well, now. He swallowed, every wicked
little thought that had sprung into mind at the
Garden of Eden echoing loudly in his head. He
knew what she was offering. Everything. It
lingered in her heated gaze, in the gentle way she
traced the half-open collar of his shirt. Ingrid knew
exactly what she wanted, and she was determined
to get it.
And again he hesitated. What was wrong with
him? There was a nervous pit in his abdomen,
instinct whispering through him like it sometimes
did when he knew he was in danger. But there was
no danger here. Only Ingrid, with the candlelight
turning her skin to molten gold, her natural perfume
hovering in the air like a smoky lure and the
shadows growing deeper, darker....
No danger. But he felt like he hovered on the
edge of taking a momentous step forward, and he
wasn’t certain what that meant.
"You want me to tup you," he said, and his
cock jerked at the words. As far as his body was
concerned, it was all in. Who could blame him?
Ingrid was absolutely gorgeous; all Amazon legs,
generous breasts, and muscular litheness. A
Valkyrie in human form. And all his...
"Maybe I'll tup you," she whispered, a palm
pressing against his chest as he slid back on the
bed, and she rose over him.
"What about our challenge?"
She kissed the words from his lips, her
fingers trailing down his shirt and stroking the hard
flex of his abdomen. "Maybe I changed my mind?"
He couldn't fight it anymore. His mouth took
hers, hard and demanding. His fingers were in her
hair, gently tugging the honey-gold locks from their
braid and tangling the soft strands over her
shoulders. He wanted to pause, to drink in the
sensation of her hair against his skin, but Ingrid had
him by the lapels. She muscled him back against
the wall. The bronze ring around her pupils was
heating, stealing through the hazel of her eyes, as if
the berserker fury roused within her. Then she was
nipping at his throat, tearing at the buttons there as
if to get at his skin. Byrnes tilted his head back,
one hand sliding through her hair and cupping her
nape.
Sweet heaven. It had been an age since she'd
been in his arms. Too long. Far too long.
He gave himself over wholly to her, and
Ingrid yanked his shirt from his leather breeches. It
was as if a dam had broken somewhere inside her.
And he liked it.
"Yes? Or no?" she whispered.
"Maybe," he breathed, to toy with her.
Firm hands pushed him down flat onto the bed
and then a pair of hard-toned thighs straddled him.
His back hit the pillows, her knees sliding deep
into the coverlet on either side of his hips.
He certainly wasn't going to fight it. Byrnes
curled a possessive hand around her hip, resting it
on her arse. Their eyes met, and then she fisted
both hands in the center of his shirt, and tore it
clean up the middle.
"I'll buy you a new one," she whispered, a
heated flash of her eyes sweeping over him before
she leaned down and kissed the side of his throat.
Her touch was ravenous as she slid his shirt off his
shoulders, licking at his neck and then suckling
hard.
Hell. His eyes rolled back in his head. Being
ravished by Ingrid was definitely an experience he
wouldn't say no to.
"That's okay," he breathed, a shock of feeling
shooting through him as she bit him. His fingers
curled into the flesh of her bottom, his hips
thrusting up in reaction. "You can tear my shirt off
me anytime you like. But don't think I won't be
returning the favor."
The leather protective overcorset she wore
was smooth beneath his hands. All of these fiddly
straps and buckles. He wanted to explore more, but
she was determined to have her own way.
Which was quite fine by him, to be honest, if
only that little doubt hadn't reared its head again.
This wasn't surrender. This was Ingrid
scratching a physical itch, and he had the sickening
feeling that tomorrow she would buckle herself
back into her protective corset-armor and lift her
brow at him as if to say, What? Nothing would
have changed. He'd have gotten what he wanted,
she'd have gotten what she wanted... and yet the
goal posts had shifted somewhere deep inside him.
Grabbing her by the wrists, Byrnes rolled
them until he lay nestled between her parted thighs.
They both panted, and Ingrid arched up beneath
him as if to demand to know why he'd stopped.
Part of him didn't know why he'd stopped.
"I've changed my mind," he told her. "This is
cheating. I still have two challenges to go."
Only this time, winning his way into her bed
wasn't the prize.
"Byrnes!" Her wrists lifted off the bed as she
fought him, and she was very nearly strong enough
to push him away.
But he kissed her throat, feeling the kick of
her pulse against his lips, and trailed lower, lower,
heading for the smooth slopes of her breasts.
Perfect ground to wage his campaign.
"Ah, ah, ah," he told her, pressing her into the
mattress and kissing his way down her throat. "I
didn't say I intended to forgo the pleasure entirely.
Just that I hadn't earned the right to fuck you."
"I don't care! Byrnes!" Ingrid writhed beneath
him, then gasped as his lips nibbled over the soft
said yes!”
Not on her life. Stubbornness reared its head.
He was going to win her over properly. As much
as he desperately wanted to sink his cock into her
wet heat, that would... not be right. Not yet.
"Tempting," he whispered, "but I think I enjoy
torturing you. Call it payback." After all, he wasn't
about to admit what had caused this little change of
heart, at least not until he'd had time to examine the
issue at leisure himself.
Ingrid pushed up onto her elbows stubbornly.
"I'm fairly certain I could talk you into it." One
hand slid between his legs and caressed the hard
bulge of his cock through the leather as her eyes
blazed with triumph.
Fuck. Byrnes swallowed. "I'm fairly certain
you could." He bit the tip of her nose, teeth grazing
lightly against her skin. "But what's the rush?"
Trailing his fingertips down over her breast, he
paid close attention to the soft leather covering her
nipple. "Don't you want to have a little fun first?"
He finally found the buckle at the side of her ribs
that held her leather corset in place, and released
it. "I do."
That caught her interest. "Define 'fun.'"
He smiled. "Off," he said, and Ingrid
practically ripped her leather corset off and threw
it across the room.
Frustration, thy name was verwulfen. Byrnes
leaned closer, daring to meet that incinerating gaze.
"I never understand you," she growled. "I
practically handed you... me on a platter."
"I'm just slowing us down," he murmured
against her lips. Such soft lips. "It is going to
happen. One day."
"I think you enjoy torturing me. And yourself."
"Is this torture?" Resting on one elbow, he
slid his other hand up the rumpled linen of her
chemise, his thumb splaying into the groove of her
ribs where her heart lay. The swell of her breast
rode up, drawing his gaze. Then his mouth.
"Yes," she breathed, sinking her fingers into
his hair as he kissed his way between her breasts.
"Torture most profound. An ache so sweet that it's
almost painful."
"Do you think that I don't feel it too?" He
nosed aside the soft linen of her chemise. Her
nipple sprang to view, rosy and peaked and aching
for his mouth. His cock pulsed inside his pants.
"Do you think that I’m not aching to be within
you?”
“Byrnes!” She undid the buttons on her
breeches, then wriggled out of them, revealing
dangerously long legs encased in delicate
stockings.
"Imagine," he breathed in her ear, as his hand
slid down over the curve of her hip and began
edging her chemise up, "what it's going to feel like
when I'm finally inside you."
Ingrid moaned. “You talk too much.”
“Oh?” He laughed and tugged her chemise
lower, revealing the perfect arch of one smooth
breast. More than a handful. “Didn’t you know that
anticipation is one of the greatest parts of
seduction?” So saying, he tugged her chemise
another inch lower, until the lace neckline hovered
on the tip of her puckered nipple. “Now look at
this,” he breathed, brushing his lips over the lace.
Ingrid had frozen, barely daring to breathe.
Her hips shifted restlessly but she didn’t take her
gaze off him.
“It looks… soft, and yet hard.” Dragging the
lace lower revealed her nipple, hardened into a
bud. He blew over the tip of it, smiling evilly. “It
looks… delicious.”
“Byrnes, you—”
He closed his mouth around that aching bud
and she gasped, her hands sliding into his hair.
“Oh, oh God!”
Taking it between his teeth, he rolled it gently
as Ingrid thrashed beneath him. Slowly his hand
crept below the hem of her chemise, teasing at the
flesh there. He was certain she’d stopped