14

Eight-ball greeted Hannah in the kitchen with a meow before threading himself between her wobbly legs. After Catherine's talk about husbands and fathers, Roger's ashes took priority over cuddling the cat. She would scatter his ashes tonight, giving him peace, before anything could happen that would delay his return to the earth.

All of her plans for food and a shower melted away. The ashes weighed heavy in her hand, all of her emotions boxed behind a wall of control leaking brandy through ever widening cracks. Garrett, the butler, more than likely had retired for the evening. Dani wasn't out in the sunroom, so maybe she'd decided to explore the rose covered trellis at the end of the walkway.

The cat followed Hannah outside, but disappeared to hunt as she made her way toward the dock out back. She didn't see Scott, Nik, or Thomas, either, so they must have disappeared elsewhere inside the mansion. Hannah chose the path leading in the opposite direction from the trellis. The Elusive Lady floated in the shadow of the lanterns lining the wooden walkway. The Lady belonged to Thomas, and Hannah needed to be as far away from the reminder of the Blackwood family as she could while living in their home, so she made her way along the border toward the neighboring estate.

The breeze from the harbor picked up, with just a hint of autumn chill in the air as the sun set. Where the shore curved to hug the Bay, neighboring estates turned on their evening lights, twinkling in the growing dark. The silence opened its arms to comfort her.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there before Scott's heavy steps found her. Funny, how she could recognize his gait from all of the other members of the household after less than two weeks.

He sat next to her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders and his gloved hands on her knit sweater, keeping her warm against the cool breeze.

"What's in the box?" he asked.

"Roger's ashes," she said. What's left of my heart, she wanted to say but didn't. What she really meant was, what was left of the only man who had ever made her feel like she belonged, like she was normal, as if she were special enough to care about. Roger had cared for her, enough to die for her. How did you honor something so precious?

Scott didn't reply right away. He kept his thoughts to himself, while the water lapped against the pylons underneath them. After a long while he said, "There's a cemetery about ten minutes away if you'd prefer."

Hannah shook her head, but realized Scott wouldn't see the subtle motion in the growing darkness. "I want this done. I loved Roger, but he was Miranda's husband before he was my stepfather. No matter how much I cherish my memories of him, I can't think of him without thinking of her. I don't want Miranda lingering anywhere near Thunder City. She doesn't belong here. She doesn't belong anywhere. Her body might be lost at the harbor. I don't care about that. I have to let Roger go here, now. I can't have him without her."

She still couldn't bring herself to open the urn and scatter Roger's ashes. She just sat there, huddled against Scott, her fingers growing numb from her death grip on the urn.

Scott let go of her shoulders to rub her back in slow circles. "Take your time. We're in no rush."

But she was in a rush. A rush against possible incarceration. A rush against the need to prove herself. A rush against an investigation that wasn't going anywhere fast.

There were so many unanswered questions. What had happened to all of Roger's money? Was there really nothing for Hannah to inherit except the urn and his ashes? Miranda had married Roger for his money, so Miranda's accounts, and Roger's by default, must have been tied up with building the quarry and paying Miranda’s mercenaries. Or maybe it had been transferred to the Court of Blood. Not that the money would do her any good now, but what about her future? Did she even have one? Would the Committee let her have a say in her future at all?

"When I was eight," she said, leaning into Scott, "I won a science contest at school. A demonstration with prisms about light refraction and rainbows. Miranda's second husband had helped me pick out the prism and tape it to the cardboard box. I hadn't thought Miranda had noticed what we were doing, much less cared. But something changed that day. She got a phone call and became all excited. Out of the blue she offered to help me bring the project to school and even spell-checked my essay. She offered to let me use an old tripod we had out in the garage as a stand for the cardboard box. After I won, she took me out for ice cream, just the two of us. She let me pick out whatever flavor I wanted. I decided to try strawberry, though I'd never eaten strawberry-flavored ice cream before. Miranda bragged to the waitress about my science project and asked her to put extra sprinkles and whipped cream on top. When the waitress came back, the bowl had more whipped cream than ice cream."

Her tears softened the stars appearing in the sky.

"You had a good day with her," Scott leaned low, to whisper in her ear, still keeping his lips just far enough away to not touch her. "She introduced you to your favorite ice cream flavor."

"I had forgotten that." Her throat tightened, her voice became more ragged. "After her third marriage, I had forgotten about the ice cream. I had forgotten even after Roger took me out one day before he married Miranda. He offered to buy me ice cream and I asked for strawberry with extra whipped cream and sprinkles. I've always thought of Roger when I thought about strawberry ice cream, but it was really Miranda who bought it for me first."

Scott's arm tightened around her shoulders, pulling her closer, the pressure of his arm keeping her strong, keeping her tears in check.

"Why am I remembering this now? I hate her. I hate what she became, I hate what she did to you, I hate what she did to me, and to all the other Alts stuck in her prison. Why can't I dump Roger's ashes? I should be thinking of him. He used to take me out on his sailboat. Why can't I think about that without thinking of Miranda?"

Scott said nothing for a while, rocking Hannah back and forth in a gentle motion. Hannah closed her eyes, imaging herself on Roger's boat, and Scott's rocking motion was just like the Bay lulling her to safety and comfort.

"Miranda is all you know," he said, finally. "For better or worse, she raised you. She's your most dominant memory and you can't forget her so easily until you have other memories, better memories, to erase her."

Better memories. Yes, that's what she needed. Better, happier, memories. Memories she would build here in Thunder City. Hadn't she already started? With Scott? The Committee was ruining the memories she should be building, damn them.

Hannah inhaled the salty air, long and slow, but the brandy still kept her heart wide open. Scott had her back and she had his. He wanted her to build new memories. That would be her mission, her mantra. New memories and a new life with Scott by her side. They would make it happen, somehow.

With care, she unhooked the top of the urn.

"Go ahead, Hannah," he urged. "She can't hurt you anymore."

Hannah turned the urn over. The wind picked up with a burst, scattering the ashes far across the murky waters. Without a second thought, she tossed the urn into the water along with the ashes.    

"Thank you for Roger, Miranda. Thank you for giving me the gift of a real father. I hope you only spend most of eternity in hell. Roger, you gave me hope, which was more important than what anyone else had given me."

She watched the urn bob in the waves for a moment, then sink beneath the surface. It was done. She owned nothing from her past and was glad for it. So why did her soul weigh her down like a wet blanket over a kicked puppy?

The tears started to spill then, because she couldn't see Scott, even in the light of the lanterns against the darkening sky. Her world blurred and her cheeks cooled with the wetness. Scott shifted, pulling his hand from her shoulder to run his gloved fingers through her hair.

She curled into him, wanting the contact, damning the Committee for taking human contact away from her. She need to touch someone. The feeling of skin, the warmth of a someone so close to you, you could feel their pulse, breathe the same air. If touch could be addictive, she was desperate for a fix and it had been so long since she last touched Scott on board the yacht. Touching skin to bloodsurf only teased her with possibilities. She had control when she healed Scott. If only she could dam up her pain and let it leak through more slowly, controlling the vicious sorrow that clawed away at her stomach, her heart, her mind.

Her tears slowed after who knew how long. She wiped her eyes. The stars shone across the sky, and the sun had set. Scott still held her, rocking a gentle rhythm in time to the water lapping against the dock.

"I want to spend the night with you."

Had she said that? She must have because Scott broke his rhythm mid-rock. "We can't."

"We can." Her determination overrode her grief. She needed to feel Scott, like she had oh, so briefly in his bedroom before his arrest. Nothing had made her feel more blissful than having Scott's whole body pressed against her, all hard muscle, except his lips, which were soft and playful. The memory of his fingers touching her between her legs sparked a slow burn where her jeans pressed into that same juncture. Skin-on-skin contact would lay the foundation for all of her new memories, and only having Scott's rough hands on her body could satisfy her. "I want you. I want this. No one has to know."

"My parents will know. It's their house. Nothing happens in there that they don't know about. Alek and Evan will probably stay the night too. You know those two will be snooping around getting up to no good."

Hannah couldn't stop the giggle at the idea of all Catherine's grown sons sneaking around the mansion. "Do you think Nik will stay? With Dani?"

Scott's shoulders lifted in a half shrug. "Maybe."

"I want to make love with you," she repeated. "For real this time. No bloodsurfing." Scott's arms were still around her, his gloved hands tucked around her waist. Instead of giving her comfort, it made her remember what his hands were doing when they were in his bed. The feel of his fingers touching her where she'd never been touched before, the orgasm he gave her without even entering her body. Yes, that was how she wanted to feel, to sweep away the pain, push it so far away it couldn't hurt her anymore. "If Nik and Dani can sleep together, there's no reason we can't. We have control right here, right now. Even if we didn't, no one is going to get hurt but us. We'll take responsibility if someone finds out."

Even in the low light she could see Scott lick his lips, temptation in his eyes. Good to know that despite everything, he still wanted her. She rested her head on his chest where she could hear his heart. He had a perfect heart because she'd made it perfect.

Without warning, Scott pulled his long legs up onto the dock. He stood and with one smooth tug, pulled her to stand next to him. Hannah took one last swipe with her sleeve across her eyes to keep her tears from showing. With firm resolve, she put Roger, and with him, Miranda, out of her mind.

Making love with Scott wasn't a mistake. She wouldn't let it become a mistake. The Committee might regulate everything else, but she wasn't going to let them control this. What she and Scott shared together was none of their business. They were adults who'd survived too many attempts on their lives to let others decide what was best for them. The Committee would call them selfish, but it was the Committee that was selfish. They wanted to keep the Blood Surfer to themselves.

Instead of bringing her back into the house, Scott led her onto the Elusive Lady. No one would see them here. He turned on a light but kept it low. Ignoring the master bedroom, Scott took her to a guest bedroom across the hall.

Like the rest of the yacht, this room had the warm, earthy colors of late autumn. Outside the porthole, Hannah could see the lanterns from the deck reflecting off the low waves from the Bay. The yacht rocked ever so slightly as each wave rolled against it.

Scott sat down on the bed and motioned for Hannah to join him. "We don't have to do this if you change your mind. Just say 'stop,' even if you're not sure."

She sat next to him, put her arms around his waist, her head, both heavy and light at the same time, on his shoulder. "I'm tired of just dreaming about you."

His gloved fingertips trailed light along her upper arms, eliciting a shiver. A cold calmness dropped her heartbeat from too fast to a slower, calmer rate, matching the rhythm he created. After running hot for most of the day, a more languid comfort wrapped around her. The slow weakening of her instinct to fight, to run, to save, made her legs wobble.

The light tickle disappeared. She opened her half-closed eyes to ask why he'd stopped. One finger at a time, Scott tugged at his gloves. When his hands were free, he placed the gloves on the night table next to the bed. He'd made his choice, his commitment, to her. "Wherever you go, even if it's only in your dreams, I will follow."

"You'll never need to follow me." She matched his decision, and tugged off her own gloves one finger at a time. When her own hands were free, she placed her gloves on top of his. "We'll walk together side-by-side."

Hannah watched Scott as he undressed, each discarded piece of clothing revealing more of his forbidden skin. First his jacket, followed by his weapons, which he carefully placed on a chair next to the bed. Then the t-shirt, sweeping up and over his expansive chest, each rib distinctly outlined. A few new bruises on his arms and shoulders distracted her from the rest of his perfection. She swallowed back the urge to ask him how he’d gotten hurt, but she placed the question into her mental box. If Scott wanted her to know, he would tell her.

His abs contracted as he sat down to tug off his boots, but he watched her watching him as he stood back up to remove his jeans. Adorably, he turned his back to her as he unzipped. His firm backside had no bruises for her to worry over, but he kept his back to her far longer than necessary, while he folded each article of clothing and placed them next to his weapons. She licked her lips in anticipation. When had her mouth become so dry?

"Now you decide to become a neat freak?" she asked. "Last time you tossed your clothes on the floor."

He looked over his shoulder. "Eager are you?"

"You're killing me, Grey."

He turned around and walked over to stand right in front of her, arms across his chest. He was built, just like she'd seen him last time. She cared about nothing else right now, other than Scott standing naked in front of her.

It took a few moments for her to realize he was waiting for her to undress.

“Sorry.” What a dork she was, but she couldn't stop staring. Deciding to lose your virginity and acting on it were two different things. Last time she chickened out because emotionally she knew it wasn't the right time. Right here, with Scott standing in front of her, she had to wonder if she shouldn't chicken out because he was so damn big. "It's just — you're amazing and I'm not feeling particularly amazing right now."

“Let me give you a hand.”

He knelt in front of her, and made short work of the knots in her sneakers. A second later, her sneakers slipped off her feet, followed by her socks. The shock of cool air caressed her toes, as she wiggled them. Firm fingers halted her mid-wiggle to massage the arch of her left foot, the warmth shooting along her nerves straight to her head. The light tingle of need mixed with the brandy. Her breath hitched, the rhythm of her heart followed the stroke of Scott's fingers as he abandoned her left foot in favor of her right. 

"That feels so good," she whispered. 

His gray eyes gazed directly into hers, low, intense, and aiming straight for the core of her being. She held his look, letting her need fall into a cloud of desire. His hands loosened, sliding up her calves, to the hems of her capris, where he paused to massage those muscles as well. It was a slow seduction, but her greed took hold and Hannah leaned forward to cup Scott's cheeks and pour all her unspent desire into her kiss. As she did, she widened her legs so he could slip his hips in between, his hands roaming higher, as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

"You are amazing." He stared down at her chest, as though he could see through her thin blouse. "I grow more in awe of you every day."

He leaned in for another kiss, warm and sweet, and she remembered the last time he had her in his bed. She’d bloodsurfed then, not sure if she was ready, but not wanting Scott to think she didn’t care for him. From that experience she learned how much pleasure she could give a man. Stroking Scott to an orgasm, however, would mean she would have to wait until he was done for her to receive the same.

This time it would be different. She vowed not to let her inexperience get in the way of her desire. The brandy still sang a sweet song, caressing her soul, making her tingle.

Scott pulled his lips away from hers for a moment. "Music, classical, level four," he said.

The strains of a violin weaved a spell through the night air. 

"Just remember," he said, his thumb reaching between her legs to rub the fabric separating them. "If you want to stop, just say 'stop' and I will." 

His voice tangled with her mood, stroking her core. All the love she wanted during her life spelled out in just a few words. "I promise. I want this. I want you."

"Even if it means we have to run again?" he asked.

"Even then."

His fingers abandoned her core and reached for the buttons on her blouse, while his lips found hers again, distracting her from thoughts of tomorrow. She wanted his fingers back on her, but with nothing separating them. Emboldened, she unzipped her capris herself, shoving the material down to her thighs. They wouldn't go any farther unless Scott backed away from her.

Scott obeyed her silent command after a sweep of his tongue along hers. The capris fell to the floor, followed by her blouse, underwear and bra. Scott's lips returned, hungrier, more demanding. The buzz in her head eased as Scott lay her back, his hands everywhere at once. Her skin tightened under the onslaught, her nipples peaked the more he fondled them. She arched her back, pressing herself against him.

"Ouch." She froze with the sharp twinge under her ribs.

Scott's hands stilled. "What's wrong?"

The worry in his voice carried away her pain. He was so caring and considerate, the way he treated her like a treasure, desirable and beautiful.

"Nothing. It's fine. My ribs are still sore."

Scott didn't move to continue their lovemaking, but her body still screamed for more pleasure. "Really, I'm fine."

Her fingers brushed through the hair on his chest while she explored his body, ignoring his bruises and praying he wasn't in any pain either.

"If you're sure."

"I am." She lifted her hips up to rub against his hardness. His breath increased the faster she moved. "See? Nothing's wrong."

Obviously he believed her, because he pulled the covers over both of them, returning most, but not all, of his weight on top of her. She’d seen his body before, but she’d never touched so much of him, she'd never tasted him except for his kisses. Her tongue found the nape of his neck and traced a path down to his right nipple, where she sucked just long enough to make him moan before she continued her path down to his abdomen. Turned out, he was an innie, which she took advantage of by lapping her tongue around the circle before delving inside.

His sharp intake of breath caught her unawares, and she didn't expect him to haul her back up so he could kiss her again, his mouth hard on hers. As he reclaimed her lips, his hand reached under one of her thighs, encouraging her to bend her knees, widening her legs and giving him more room. It still didn't satisfy, so she wrapped her legs around his again, letting his hand wander down to rub where he gave her pleasure the last time.

Her moan begged for more of the enticing friction, but his hand disappeared to touch her elsewhere, leaving her wanting. Her nipples, already hard, became more sensitive while he massaged her chest, his fingers dancing across sensitive skin before sucking one nipple into this mouth. She squirmed against him, silently demanding him to devour her. He responded by pulling away, trading his massage of her other breast with his tongue, lapping at her hardened peaks.

The need to pull him closer forced her to grip her hands on his backside. With her hands full, she urged him to move faster as he rocked against her. His fingers returned to stroke her between her legs and sent her spiraling again into a vortex of want and need. She wanted him and needed him, but not the way that triggered her ability.

The heels of her feet found his calves, so muscular, while she let go of his backside to run her hands through his thick hair. "I'm ready, Scott."

"Not yet." He nipped the tip of her nose.

"Why?"

He rolled off her in the opposite direction. Had she done something wrong?

Crinkling foil caught her attention, while she spooned herself against Scott's back, trying to recapture the closeness she had just moments before. Her hand slipped around his waist seeking his hardness, but he stopped her before she could touch him. Instead, he placed her hand on his stomach while he rolled on the condom.

He turned back to face her. "Are you ready?"

Instead of telling him "yes", she wrapped her arms around him, her kiss first finding his bottom lip, then the top, then together she poured all of her passion into him. Working with nothing but primal instinct, she left his lips and worked her way down his jawline, the five o'clock shadow scratching her tongue. He had a bruise the size of a golf ball near his shoulder, so she left that area alone, heading for his nipples to tease him the way he teased her.

"You feel so good." His voice hitched. She kept going, taking time to lap her tongue inside his navel. Her exploration didn't last long. Scott grabbed her upper arms and hauled her back up until she was eye level with him again.

"Not yet."

His kiss nearly stole her ability to breathe, while he pushed her onto her back. The tangled blanket wrapped around her legs, which she kicked free. Scott moved lower, his lips finding her nipples, which his tongue played with until each one until she thought she would scream in frustration. He moved lower, slowly paying her back for her exploration of his belly button. She thrashed, trying to create more contact, but he pinned her hips with his hands until his mouth reached between her legs. The heat he created burned away all resistance. She melted into him, thrust upwards, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough, while he teased her body.

The friction she craved stopped as Scott moved back up her body, slowly retracing the path his tongue had created, while his hand remained below, his fingers replacing his kisses.

"Now." Did she say that?

"Are you — "

"If you ask me that one more time, I'm going to bloodsurf and make you finish this."

Clearly, he needed nothing else. She opened herself wide and arched her back, ignoring her sore ribs, as Scott pressed himself into her. She gasped at the contact and forced herself to relax, secure in the knowledge he would be as gentle as he could. Scott moved slowly at first. There was pressure, a ping of pain. She groaned when his fullness entered her completely, her hips arching to meet his.

"Are you okay?" he panted.

While the lower half of her body adjusted to the new sensations, the urge to move set her rocking her whole body against him. "Yes. Keep going."

He rocked along with her, his arms keeping his torso from crushing her. She matched his rhythm, pulling him back down, rubbing herself against him as best she could. The tension within her was like nothing she'd expected. From the inside, she'd seen Scott's body react to her touch, the dance of the nerve signals across his skin, the rush of blood as he came during her stroke. She had no guide here except for the expression on his face. He was close, eyes half closed, brows knitted in both concentration and ecstasy.

His body sped up and she matched him, the friction tugging her into a world of new sensations. There were no words, just sharp gasps followed by frenzied groans until she spilled over, her cry of pleasure washing over in a wave of satisfaction.

Scott joined her a moment later, his own orgasm speeding up even as hers slowed down. She didn't have to wait long until he thrust one last time into her, then stopped. She captured a mental picture of him at the moment, eyes closed, tension gone, free of the world around them. He lowered himself back onto her his breath soft as he cradled her in his arms.