2.5 YEARS EARLIER
(Unread) J. Locke
* * *
NOW
We stopped at an abandoned warehouse that Vlad had cleared for the night. The rest of the group had already stationed themselves in one of the rooms downstairs, but I couldn’t sleep. There was too much going on, and I had to be outside—see the night sky. Leaning down onto the railing of the old warehouse’s rooftop, I looked at the darkened city. Trails of life still hid inside its corners: a packed suitcase in the streets; front doors left wide open in a hurry; a child’s toy dressed in mold. All withered by age.
Forgotten.
Just like my mother had been. She had died alone in that hospital. Just another name—another patient they lost to the mutation.
My gaze was pulled upwards as a falling star soared through the sky, leaving behind a trail of a bright, electric blue color before disappearing. The night sky was the only thing that had remained the same throughout my life. It had been my comfort zone, the place my eyes could wander when life on the ground became a bit too much. The tiny, sparkling diamonds always seemed to lure me in—beckon me closer.
If only I could. I would have found a home amongst the stars, somewhere else, far away from this wretched planet.
I stared into space, wondering…
“Raven.”
The sound behind me dragged me back to the roof, and I turned around slowly.
I found Jordan already looking at me. He had been so happy for me when I had told him the news about my mother. Now he raised his chin a little and let his eyes wander to the sky—where mine had been—as he stepped closer and dropped his hands to the railing beside me. His eyes reflected the stars he looked up to, and I couldn’t seem to tear mine away from them. Shadows formed in the hollows of his cheeks, and when his face turned to mine, the darkness seemed to swallow his eyes whole.
I kept looking—transfixed by him.
Not choosing you has always been my biggest regret.
Jordan reached out a hand and brushed a stray curl behind my ear. “You are so beautiful.”
I turned my face away. “Don’t.”
“Stop fighting it,” Jordan whispered as he stepped forward.
“Stop giving me reasons to.”
His gaze burned into my face as he stood next to me, fingers curling into fists.
All my clothes felt too tight, too constricting. The creatures fluttering in my stomach were no longer butterflies but moths—the frantic animals thrashed inside me without finesse. They felt possessed. Wild. Oppressed. Like they didn’t know what to do with themselves, either.
My breathing turned uneven as Jordan’s fingers twined with mine—featherlight touches, exploring the boundaries I had set, which were none at all.
I looked at him again, his ash blonde hair turning silver in the starlight. The muscles in his cheeks moved beneath his skin, jaws clenching.
The truth was splayed out on the table. My lips parted a fraction, my heart hammering in my throat. The fight left my body, and the frown on my face disappeared as I whispered his name.
Jordan translated the message, his eyes searching mine for any sign telling him otherwise. He let go of a breath—one he had held for a long time—as he agreed, “Yes.”
I turned to him fully, and he gripped my face, his fingers splaying. Thumbs caressed the corners of my mouth. He looked at my lips, shook his head once, and then captured them. Hard.
There was no room for argument.
I had imagined this moment a million times; how it would feel to be kissed by Jordan Locke. How it felt to be his sole focus, the receiver of his undivided attention.
But everything paled at this.
His soft lips were firm, demanding, attentive, sweet. I felt them curve into a smile when I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, and sliding my tongue between his lips where it met his halfway.
Everything about him felt like a warm embrace. And for the first time since arriving in Damruin, I felt safe. Cherished. Home.
His tongue fought mine as if his life depended on it—as if he had something to prove. As if he had been waiting all his life for this moment. To overpower me.
I knew better than to give in. My hands gripped his hair roughly, and I pulled him closer.
One of his hands went to my throat. He applied light pressure and pushed me back hard against a door.
A moan escaped me of its own accord.
His tongue seized mine, and it was the only thing in the world I could focus on at that moment.
Jordan pulled me flush against him, walking me through a door and into a room the gods knew where—I didn’t care.
I found myself sinking into something hard, looking up at him.
Hoarsely, he said, “You don’t get to regret this.”
My thumbs found their way along his jaw, trailing a path upwards until they gripped his soft hair. A sound escaped his chest when I pulled him closer to me.
I was beaming up at him, but as my hands trailed to the collar of his shirt, grave emotions clogged my throat. My hands hitched at his buttons. It was almost too much to bear. As if Jordan knew I was faltering, he raised his own hands and started unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes were a dark blue as they focused on me with feral intensity.
“Do you—” he started, but I cut him off by pressing my lips to his because I knew I wouldn’t dare to give him the answer he wanted. I knew that if I did, the moment would be over. Instead, I wanted to lose myself in it for the rest of my life.
His hands trailed to the hem of his shirt, which he pulled off, revealing his bare chest. He consisted of hard, powerful lines with contrasting soft spots, but as I put my hands on his body, I knew that the softness was only an illusion. Everything about him was unyielding.
Before my hand could wander, Jordan covered it with his, making me look up. “I swear it, Raven.” Dare to regret it; his eyes seemed to say.
My hands curled around him until my nails embedded themselves into his skin. “Stop talking, Jordan,” I said hoarsely, burying his words somewhere deep, where I hoped I couldn’t find them anymore.
He shook his head but didn’t smile. This was as serious for him as it was for me. This moment was our story’s beginning, middle, and ending—the only moment that mattered.
He put a hand on the nape of my neck and pulled me away from the wall, pushing me toward a wooden bench. Slowly, he let me sit down and lean back—all the while looking at him. His eyes were darker than they had been before, daring me to do something he didn’t like. But I wasn’t afraid of him.
How could I be?
Slowly, I took off my shirt while he was looking at me without moving. But as I took it off and stripped myself from my bra, the last layer before I was bared before him, something in him switched.
I had always suspected Jordan to be… different in the bedroom. All easy smiles and flirting until you stalked closer. Only then would you witness a version of him he let very few people see. But nothing could have prepared me for the primal look now visible in his eyes.
He bent forward roughly, covering me, chest heaving like he had been running for his life. He wriggled a knee between my legs and let a hand trail to my throat like he was trying to get a scope of what he could work with. Like he wanted to see how far he could go.
I wanted to make sure he knew the answer was to go as far as he wished to, but before I could say anything, his hand was already caressing my breasts, my side, my waist, my hips, until he arrived at the edge of my pants. There, he let a finger trail underneath before curving it and pulling the pants down.
Seconds passed while more and more of my naked skin was revealed to him. It was unbearable, but I knew better than to interfere.
Jordan clearly knew what he was doing.
He pulled my pants down completely and let a finger roam over the seams of my panties—leaving a shudder in its wake. He sat between my legs, which were confined in the pants that hung at my ankles.
“Fuck, Raven,” he sighed as he felt the damp fabric. He pulled it to the side and let one of his fingers rub over the source of my wetness.
He grabbed my hips roughly, pulling me to the edge of the bench as he sat on his knees before me, legs still locked firmly in place. There was nothing for a moment until he let one finger—two—enter me slowly, and the moan I had wanted to suppress slipped out.
I saw stars when I felt his tongue glide over my clit.
Jordan let me linger on the edge of madness and pulled back—pushing me to that edge and letting me shudder with the need to come before he pulled back again. He was playing me like a fiddle. Knew exactly which string to touch and did it over and over again.
“Come for me, Raven,” Jordan finally murmured.
I erupted.
Jordan’s hand clamped down over my lips as he tried to mute the moans I elicited. Remembering where we were, I tried to stifle them, too.
When I had finally landed, I said breathlessly, “My turn.”
I let myself glide off the bench until I sat on my knees before him. He looked down at me, his hand cupping my chin, thumb caressing my mouth.
My hands rubbed over his legs, upwards, over the bulge in his crotch, to his fly, which I opened slowly before I pulled down his pants. Jordan tracked my every move.
His boxers were next, and I looked at his dick, moistening my lips as I took hold of his shaft.
Looking up, eyes meeting, I opened my lips and wrapped them around him. My eyes shut the moment I tasted him.
It felt so good.
He felt good.
Jordan growled like I was torturing him.
I took him all the way, my hands coming up to massage his balls as he slid in and out relentlessly. I, too, dragged it on for longer than necessary, and he burrowed his hands in my hair from the restraint he had put on himself.
The moment I opened my eyes, I could see he was close to his own release, and I moved even faster, harder, and more urgently—letting him know he could come. Our gazes locked the entire time. His hand wrapped in my hair and gripped it the moment I felt him swell even more. My nails pressed into his backside while his lips parted a little, and his chest moved at an urgent pace.
Releasing a loud groan, Jordan stilled and came in the back of my throat.
I swallowed until only his taste remained, and I saw something change in his gaze now that the haziness of desire had subsided. Something I hadn’t been ready to see: pride, possessiveness, and—
I remembered why we couldn’t do this. Too late.
Ashley.
He was in a relationship.
A relationship I knew about. And we had—we had—
All the blood in my body rushed from my head, and I felt like I was floating. My cheeks burned wildly as I let go of him and cleaned myself up, putting space between us—avoiding his eyes.
Jordan clicked his tongue. “No, Raven.” He stepped closer, but I moved away from him, flinching. “Raven, look at me.”
I shook my head once and gathered my clothes, putting them back on.
He stood behind me and gripped my wrist. “Don’t pull this shit on me right now.”
I twisted my wrist to make him lose his grip, and he made a disapproving sound.
“You know better than to walk away, Raven,” he warned.
An indignant breath left me. “That’s what you think I do? Walk away?”
His gaze turned heated. “Isn’t that what you always do when feelings get too real?”
I sighed, frustrated with him and myself, as I pulled my shirt back over my head and turned to grab the door handle to pull it open, but Jordan slammed his hand against it—keeping it closed. He loomed over me, and I watched as his nostrils flared. “You knew there was no going back from that.”
“Let me out.” I refused to meet his eyes.
He let his hand glide off the door, and I opened it to leave. But as I stepped out of the room, he said, “I warned you, Raven.”