Warders, Volume One Read online

  “I can’t wait to get you home.”

  The way he said it, staring at my mouth, his eyes heavy-lidded with need, had me wanting it just as bad. And it wasn’t that he was so gorgeous—I had met more beautiful men in my life—but when he looked at me, eyes flicking to mine, staring, there was an intensity there that took my breath away. He wanted me and no one else would do. I liked that. I liked it a lot.

  I stayed all weekend, in his bed, and when Sunday night rolled around, I told him that I had to go home. I couldn’t actually just wear his sweats and his T-shirts forever; I had to get ready for Monday, get ready for work, and go back to my life.

  But that wasn’t what he wanted. He needed me to move in, and so I was made to wait as he made a call.

  It got weird after that, off-the-chart strange, and I would have run from anyone else. But for him I stayed.

  Twenty minutes later, I met the biggest man I had ever seen in my life, the sentinel Jael Ezran. I fell into a world I never even suspected existed except on TV and in movies. I was scared at first, overwhelmed, and it took me a week after the man stopped talking and I finally left to process everything.

  Demons? Warders? It was insane.

  Leith fought creatures from hell and he expected me to simply accept that it was real, take it on faith. It was too much to ask.

  And not.

  It was the way he had looked at me while his sentinel was speaking, with hope and desire all rolled up together. How could I not believe him?

  In the end, it was Leith, with his persistence and his absolute belief and need, that won me over. He stalked me in his sweet, cheerful way, showing up wherever I was, waving, grinning, always the happiest man in the world just to see me. I had never been wanted like he wanted me. He had to have me be his hearth, his home, the grounding, centering presence in his world. I was necessary.

  I understood what I was truly being asked for: to share his life, his secret, to be both his present and his future. His hope was to never open his front door at the end of the day and not have me there, or at least to have the promise of me there soon. As I was already kind of crazy about him myself, I agreed to move in.

  And it was fast, scary, crazy fast, but when he was there, waiting for me after work, oozing happy like a kid at Christmas, ready to start his life with me in it, I was sold. He wanted to meet my family, my friends, and dive right into the deep end, because he was absolutely sure I was it.

  I liked being it. I had no regrets.

  The light caught the blade of a sword, Leith’s sword, where it rested on the rack whenever it wasn’t in use, and that visual brought me back to the present. It was a beautiful, elegant weapon, a Turkish kilij. The saber was both deadly and decorative, and when my boyfriend slid it into the scabbard whenever he left our home to patrol, I shivered every time. He was a powerful man but with the sword, he took my breath away. I crossed the room to look at it and realized that just seeing it there soothed me.

  Exhaling deeply, I found that I really needed to lie down. My head hurt and I was exhausted. I had no idea how Leith and the others squared off against demons on a daily basis. Fighting took a hell of a lot out of you. Once I crawled into bed, I inhaled my boyfriend’s scent on the sheets. I didn’t even think I’d closed my eyes.

  III

  IT WAS raining outside, and I was warm in bed, and something more… something better… and then I felt the soft lips slowly trailing up my spine. It felt so good.

  “Finally,” I griped as I shivered under him, smiling.

  “I should have been worried about you first, but I was annoyed that you were late, and then I was pissed that I had to call you, and then you said what happened and…. Shit. I’m so scared that you’re gonna leave me, and now I’m just so ashamed, Simon. I’m so sorry.”

  It was an avalanche of words from him; usually he didn’t ramble.

  Wait. Leave him? “What the hell are you talking about?” I asked, trying to roll over.

  He held me still with a hand on the small of my back. “You’ve been gone so much lately, and I hardly see you, and when I do see you, all I do is complain, and then you get mad and we fight and—”

  “I’m working on fixing that problem,” I soothed him. He was right; it was turning into a vicious cycle that could be fatal if something didn’t give. If I didn’t give. “I promise.”

  “Really?” He sounded surprised.

  “’Course. I miss you as much as you miss me, idiot. Why wouldn’t I? I love you.”

  The choked whimper made me smile. “I love you too, more than you know.”

  “So I’m glad you’re home,” I said lightly. “You wanna fool around?”

  “Shut up,” he growled, and I felt his hair brush over my shoulders, felt his lips, again, on the small of my back.

  “Leith,” I breathed out.

  His hands slid up both sides of my body, his mouth on my skin. The kisses were light but searing, and I felt every single one. When he sucked, mouth open, tongue licking, I gasped.

  “Forgive me for doubting your feelings,” he breathed over my skin. “I’m an idiot and I don’t deserve you.”

  “Yes, you do,” I said, shifting because my cock was hardening, moving under his hands. “It’s me… I’m the—”

  “You’re honest, Simon. You always tell me exactly what you can and cannot do. You have no idea how great that really is. I never have to guess where I stand.”

  “Good,” I said, still sleepy. I could hear the sand in my voice.

  He laid his cheek between my shoulder blades and let out a deep breath. “God, I was so scared,” he told me, and his breathing sounded shaky.

  “It’s okay, I’m okay.” I rolled over, and he reached for the light on the nightstand at the same time. I wanted to get naked, but the look on his face was suddenly not conducive to sex. He was horrified.

  “Oh God, honey… Jesus, look at your eyes and your lip and….” His hands were all over me, yanking at my clothes, lifting the T-shirt. It should have hurt, but even as scared as he sounded, he was gentle, so gentle and careful with me because I was the man he loved.

  “I’m fine.” I chuckled because my relief that he was there, with me, was great. I didn’t realize until that moment that the whole event was more traumatic than I had yet to process.

  “Oh shit,” he cried, his hands pushing the T-shirt further up, his fingers trailing over my skin. When they touched the bruises, I shivered hard. There was no mistaking that I had been attacked. Anyone could see that. “Simon… baby—” He pulled the T-shirt up and over my head.

  I couldn’t contain my smile.

  “Christ.”

  I took his face in my hands, which stilled him completely. “I like you all worried about me,” I said, easing him down to brush my lips over his. “It’s very nice.”

  He trembled under my hands, and I smiled, seeing the reaction. The man had it bad for me, and the way he closed his eyes when I kissed him, wrapped his hands around my wrists, and whined in the back of his throat let me know that the sight of me roughed up was kind of doing it for him.

  “You’re getting off on seeing me manhandled,” I teased him.

  “No,” he corrected me, his eyes opening to only slits, glazed and dreamy. “What I like is you confessing that you needed me… finally.”

  “Finally? What?”

  He stared deeply into my eyes. “You’re so strong all the time, so independent, and sometimes I’m not sure if I’m important to you at all.”

  “You just told me I was honest and you always know where you stand so—”

  “That’s not what I mean. You want me—sexually. I know that ’cause you show it, but needing me to be with you and then telling me is a whole other thing.”

  “Leith—”

  “But tonight you finally said you did. Tonight….” His breath caught. “Simon… I was necessary.”

  When I rolled him over on his back, his moan of pleasure could not be missed.

  “Which
doesn’t mean that I’m so happy that I’m not gonna kill this guy… your ex… Eric something.”

  “Baby—”

  “Nobody puts their hands on you except me.”

  And the way he said it, the way his eyes hardened, was very sexy.

  I rubbed against him, pressing my groin to his as I covered his face with kisses—his eyes, his nose, his throat, and finally his lips—I kissed everywhere, wanting him badly.

  “Oh God,” he groaned, arching up into me. “You gotta stop, you’re hurt.”

  I wasn’t hurt enough not to jump him.

  “Simon,” he whined.

  I moved a hand to his belt buckle to begin the process of getting him out of his skintight jeans, and he tried to protest, worried about me, even though he was panting and breathless. When I slanted my mouth down over his, he went boneless under me.

  The kiss was scorching and wet. I missed nothing, sucking, licking, tasting, biting, and making sure he felt the overwhelming desire mixed with love. My tongue tangled with his, teasing, pushing, and his deep whimper of need, pulled from his soul, made me smile against his silky, supple lips. The man had the softest lips I had ever kissed, and he tasted like honey.

  “Simon, please,” he begged me when he tore his mouth from mine so he could breathe.

  “Please what?” I asked, having unbuckled his belt and gone to work on his button-fly jeans.

  “I need… I….” His eyes fluttered shut as he was assaulted by the sensation of my hand slipping under the waistband of his briefs, slipping over the velvet length of hot flesh.

  “Leith,” I whispered, pressing kisses to the base of his throat.

  “I need you.”

  And I knew that even as I fisted my hand around his hard, leaking shaft.

  He bucked up off the bed, trying to lift up higher, wanting to be closer to me. “Please, Simon, fuck me so hard that I come screaming your name and then hold me after all night long.”

  I kissed him again, slowly, sucking on his tongue, stroking his dripping cock at the same time. “You want me bad.”

  “Yes.” His voice cracked as his glazed eyes drifted open. He lifted his hips up off the bed so I could slide the stubborn jeans over his beautiful, round ass. I smiled when lube was shoved at me. He had pulled it from under his pillow, left there from the morning. He liked to start his day with me bending him over the bed. I never argued.

  I smiled down into his dark, wet, hungry eyes. “Take off your T-shirt. I wanna feel your skin on mine.”

  He pulled it roughly up over his head, his breath hitching as he looked up at me. Gently, I eased his legs down flat. The look of confusion that came over his face made me smile. When I climbed over him, straddling his thighs, his eyes got huge.

  “Simon, you—”

  “Stop.” I quieted him, flipping open the cap on the lube, squeezing it into my palm. When I fisted his cock in my hand, he bucked up into me.

  “What’re you doing? Why’re you—”

  “You know what I love about us?”

  All I got was a raw groan of whimpering need.

  “I love that we can be whatever the other guy needs whenever he needs it.” Rising to my knees, I lined his cock up with my entrance. “And tonight I need you inside me.” It was not his favorite thing, to top, and I didn’t normally ask it of him, but there were times, like this one, when I needed to be claimed instead of the other way around.

  “Simon,” he gasped, and his hand clenched on my thigh stilled me. “I don’t want to hurt you or—”

  “Do I hurt you?” I asked him, my voice low and husky.

  “No, but—”

  “Please.” My voice bottomed out as I slowly, gently lowered myself onto the long, hard, thick length of him. Leith had a beautiful cock, which I never failed to mention to him whenever I took him inside or down the back of my throat. “Oh yes,” I whispered.

  “Simon,” he gasped, hands clawing into the bedsheet, struggling so hard not to move, not to drive up into me.

  There came the slow burn that accompanied the stretching and filling, always there at the beginning, before it slowly subsided to first a dull ache and then, when I lifted and slid back down the second time, to that surge of sizzling heat. I leaned forward and kissed him, tasting him, my tongue tangling with his.

  Strong hands, callused hands, gripped my thighs, holding me tight, his hard, muscled body shuddering under me as I again lifted up off him only to plunge back down, fully seating him deep inside me.

  He tore his mouth from mine. “Oh God, Simon, you’re so tight and hot, and I fuckin’ love being inside you.”

  I smiled around the flickering orgasm that was beginning to roll through me. In the position I was in, his cock was rubbing over my prostate, which was making it hard to think. “You love being inside me? Since when?”

  “Since forever,” he moaned, and I saw the muscles in his jaw cord. “Whatever we do, you in me, me in you, kissing you, holding you… for crissakes, Simon, I get a boner just hearing your voice on the goddamn phone!”

  His confession made me want to make him come so hard he saw stars. “Oh yeah? You want me all the time?”

  His answering whimper was adorable.

  “You love me, huh?”

  “Oh God, yes.”

  I leaned back, feeling his balls against my ass.

  “Simon,” he whispered, reaching beside him for the lube, popping open the cap, lubing his fingers and then tossing it aside, caring only that he could touch me, feel me, and slide his slicked fingers over me from base to head in long, tight strokes. “Gonna come, baby, and I want you to go first.”

  Always he considered me; there was never a time when he had not. “I’m so close,” I confessed as he started to thrust from the bottom, pushing in and out as my eyes fluttered shut. It felt too good; I didn’t even care that he stopped jerking me off; I just let my head fall back on my shoulders, braced myself on his thighs, and let him thrust up into me.

  “Fuck, Simon, you’re so beautiful, and I can feel your body wrapped around me so tight, holding me, squeezing me…. Baby, please… come.”

  He was going to leave bruises, he was holding me so tight, and when he cried out my name, possessive and primal at the same time, I instantly felt the flood of hot semen fill my channel. As he drove up into me, I came, loud and messy and chanting his name.

  I WOKE up in the early morning and realized I was alone. I smiled in the darkness, hearing him in the other room, walking around as I knew was his habit, checking the front door just to make sure it was locked. Making sure our home was secure.

  “Come to bed,” I called out to him.

  He was there in the doorway seconds later.

  “Why’re you up?”

  He was silent, just staring through the dark at me.

  “Tell me.”

  “I dunno,” he answered, his voice low, full of gravel. “I’m just happy, I guess.”

  And I understood. Simple things like his keys and wallet on the shelf with mine, his leather jacket hanging beside my peacoat on the wall rack, his messenger bag on the coffee table, mine on the floor, spoke of two people living together. We had a home together, Leith and I, and I liked it, craved it, and so did he.

  “I know this is stupid, but I just feel like everything is okay because I can come in here and see you sleeping.”

  “It’s not stupid,” I said softly, smoothing my hand over his pillow. “Now come to bed.”

  He crossed the room fast, and when he leaned over, I reached up and put a hand on his cheek. “Lemme hold you.”

  “I love you, Simon.”

  “I love you too, baby. Get in bed.”

  He crawled in under the covers and molded his body to mine, spooning me, his arms around my waist. I took a deep, settling breath and closed my eyes. I fell asleep smiling.

  IV

  I WISH I had been able to stay happy. But by Tuesday morning, I was just foul. For starters I was away from home, having to fill in at the la
st moment for one of the other HR generalists in my department. Leith and I had gone from bliss on Saturday to a hellish Sunday after my boss called that morning. My boyfriend wanted me to say no; I asked him when I had become independently wealthy.

  He was angry.

  I was defensive.

  It didn’t get any better after that.

  Sunday evening was even worse than the day had been, like navigating a minefield, and we were both happy when it was over and we could go to bed. I was surprised on Monday that he was up before I was and making me breakfast.

  “I don’t want you to leave and us be pissed at each other,” he told me as I wandered into the kitchen that overlooked a cramped patio.

  I took a seat at the table and watched him move around the room. Already there was a mug of steaming coffee and glass of orange juice waiting for me. “You’re mad at me,” I said when he put a plate with what looked like a Denver omelet down in front of me. His looked similar except it was covered in salsa.

  “I’m not mad at you,” he sighed, taking a seat across from me. “I’m mad that you have to go, is all.”

  “You think I wanna go?”

  He shook his head. “Just, I don’t wanna fight—please.”

  The please killed the last bit of spite in me, and I rose out of my chair and leaned across the table. He met me halfway, hand on my cheek, his breath catching as I kissed him. Every single time I pressed my lips to his, the man received my attention like a gift. And because of that, I was putty in his hands. His long sigh made me smile.

  “I just like knowing you’re home,” he said, kissing the side of my throat.

  And I liked being home for him, but I had no choice.

  One of my coworkers had been chosen to attend the conference instead of me, but his wife ending up giving birth two weeks early, so suddenly, because the spot was paid for, I had to go. The call came from my boss, and the look on Leith’s face had been painful to see. It was hard for him when I wasn’t there to come home to. The hearth of a warder was a precious thing. Knowing I was home was good; having me there when he got home was even better. To walk in and be able to grab me, that was the very best part for him.