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“Correct,” she said. “Henric won’t abide such preferences, but he could not run the leap without Mammad. So, one day, Xander simply disappeared.”
“Is Henric really stupid enough to leave a voicemail about that?”
I mean, I knew he was a functional idiot, a little princeling through his youth who never had to pick up a book or a calculator. His instruction was in pain, but only in how to inflict it upon others.
“Both sufficiently stupid and massively egotistical,” she countered. “I’m the only one he ever thinks is plotting against him. Mammad probably deleted any voicemails. And anything on Kitka’s phone would most likely be a recording she made in secret, waiting for the day he was vulnerable enough to use it.”
“Well, the more of them focused on killing each other instead of us, the better,” I said, finding a level area of ground a few feet before the woods ended.
The ground was more gravel than dirt, so I put the kickstand down and scouted the area ahead of us. Part of the walk had been a gradual uphill climb. When we were ready to move into position around the meeting hall, I would be riding down what was close to a twenty-degree incline with Justine molded against me.
My balls momentarily tightened, but not with fear. I had held her the night of her rescue, in the van and in the caves, but that had been to heal her. As much as I wanted her—had never stopped wanting her—I wasn’t such an asshole that I would get fresh with her when she was vulnerable.
A quick glance at my watch showed another half hour of waiting until Clover would broadcast Henric’s message. The others in our war party were reaching their hold positions.
With Justine’s silence starting to get to me, I backed up to a tree and leaned against it.
“Mind getting caught with your pants down?” I asked.
Her head jerked up, her mind dropping, for the moment at least, whatever stressful thoughts had been racing circles through it.
I could feel her brilliant gaze on me, but even those green beacons were swallowed by the darkness. Still, she hadn’t told me to go fuck myself, so maybe the suggestion was under consideration.
“If my math is right,” she answered, her tone bordering enough on speculative to give me hope that I was going to get lucky, “that’s exactly what you said the night Mosa was conceived.”
A chuckle bubbled through my chest, but sobering memories killed the sound.
“And what I said the night before you left me forever.”
“Forever?” She moved closer, her steps silent despite the loose gravel and pine needles. “I’m here now.”
“After I kidnapped you.”
“Rescued me,” Justine countered, close enough at that point I could feel her body heat.
My heart and another part of me had begun to pound, one in my chest, the other trapped in my pants. Reaching out, I wrapped my hands around her shoulders and slowly coaxed her closer. Her breasts made contact with me, and then her hips. She was trembling, but there was no trace of physical fear in her scent. Hell, her scent was practically neutral, her iron will kicking in to hide her feelings, a talent she had perfected first as her father’s daughter, then later as she was trapped in an arranged marriage with a monster.
“If you’re going to have trouble controllingyourscent,” she admonished with a light bump of her pelvis against my groin, “at least pick one and stick to it. Preferably, the lusty one and not the ragey murder one.”
I forced myself to relax then pulled my mate closer. She was shorter than me by half a head, but her neck was curving to one side, exposing the supple flesh to my lips. I dropped a kiss on it, then another one. Justine leaned more heavily into me. As my mouth explored the curve of her jaw, my hands gripped her lush bottom and squeezed.
“Don’t you dare,” she growled as I lifted one hand from her firm ass cheek.
“Do what?” I asked, hoping she had no idea what I had been about to do.
“Check your watch.”
Damn, busted.
Her hands slid toward the button on my jeans, the nimble fingers took two seconds and then they carefully worked the zipper down over my hard cock. I tried to work around her hands to reach the closures on her jeans, but she was already below the top band of my underwear, her hot touch like silk as she palmed my cock and balls.
A deep moan left her at the freedom of being able to touch me.
The moan wrecked my control. I growled and spun Justine around. Ten seconds later, I had her jeans and panties halfway down her thighs and was hoisting her up high enough my cock could slide into the hot wet folds of her pussy. A shuddering sigh escaped her lips as a whole body tremble vibrated through her, the epicenter the sweet hole I filled.
“We’re killing Henric today,” I murmured, my lips against her ear. “And then we’re finding someplace for a proper fuck, a place where the real Justine Acevedo can snarl and shout and cuss as she rides my cock.”
A breathy exclamation of “yes” accompanied the coiling of her muscles around my shaft. She reached up and back, her strong, delicate fingers tangling in my hair.
