We worked out the rough outlines of our plan, although Bria insisted that we wait until the morning to implement it. I didn’t want Silvio to be tortured like I had been, but it was already too late for that. I just had to hope that he could hold on until we could save him. Besides, I wanted to be at full strength when I faced Benson again, and my body still needed time to recover from all the trauma it had been through today.
My mind and heart too.
Jo-Jo and Bria left so I could relax, but I was too restless to drift off to sleep, so I threw back the covers, padded into the bathroom, and took a long, hot shower to wash the lemony stench of Benson’s lab off me, if not the memories from my mind.
Unfortunately, those would linger for a long, long time to come.
I wrapped a towel around my body and stepped back out into the stateroom to find Owen sprawled across one of the couches, staring at a muted football game on the TV. He straightened up and turned off the TV.
“Hey,” he said. “Jo-Jo sent me on in. I’ve been waiting out here. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
He’d been giving me some quiet time to myself, time to process all the horrible things that had happened and bury them deep down where no one would ever see them. My heart swelled with love for him. Owen was so good about giving me the space I needed. But I was tired of being hurt and heartsick and reliving the horrors that Benson had visited upon me. Right now, I wanted—I needed—to feel something good, something strong, something real and more powerful than anything Benson could ever do to me.
Owen.
“Gin?” he asked, getting to his feet. “Are you all right? Do you want me to get Jo-Jo?”
Instead of answering him, I went over to the door and threw the lock. I didn’t want anyone interrupting this. I sashayed back over to Owen, stopping in front of him. I kept my gray gaze on his violet one as I loosened the towel and let it drop to the floor.
Appreciation and desire sparked in his eyes, but Owen hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” I replied in a husky whisper. “I don’t want to think about Benson or anything else but you for the rest of the night.”
Owen reached for me, but I put my hand on his chest and backed him over to the bed. He reached for me again, but I kept him at arm’s length as I unbuttoned his shirt and unzipped his pants. He stepped back long enough to shed his clothes and grab a condom from his wallet. I took my little white pills, but we always used extra protection. He reached for me a third time, and I finally let his arms encircle me.
For a while, we just stood there, our foreheads touching, our breath mingling together, my hands resting on his broad shoulders, even as his fingers stroked up and down my back in light nonsense patterns. Then I stepped forward, and we both eased down onto the bed together.
Sensing my need for control, Owen lay back and let me explore his body. I kissed him gently, teasing my tongue against his, stoking the fire that always burned between us.
For a long time, that’s all I did. But then my kisses grew bolder, harder, and longer, and my hands began to wander. I lifted my lips from Owen’s and kissed my way down his body, starting with the crooked tilt to his nose before moving to the scar that slashed across his chin and then down to his muscled chest. Eventually, my lips, tongue, and hands slid even farther down, exploring his hard length.
Owen groaned. “You drive me crazy.”
I grinned and took him in my mouth.
He groaned again, his muscles bunching and twitching with every hot flick of my tongue and gentle nibble of my teeth. Just before he went over the edge, I backed off and kissed my way back up to his mouth.
We broke apart, and he stroked my hair. “Gin?”
I knew what he was really asking. I nodded, lay back, and finally let him touch me, really touch me, his hands exploring my body just as mine had explored his, from the sensitive curve of my neck to my breasts and then down to the tangle of curls between my legs. Owen slipped a finger inside me, even as his tongue danced around one of my nipples, then the other one. The low, languid fire that had been flickering inside me erupted into something much hotter and far more intense.
Suddenly, it was all too much and not enough at the same time.
“Condom,” I rasped. “Now.”
Owen ripped open the packet and covered himself with it. The second he was finished, I plastered myself on top of him, kissing him hard and deep, my hands touching every single part of him. Then I rose up and slid down onto his hard length, making us both cry out.
Owen put his hands on my hips, steadying me, anchoring me, grounding me, as I rode him hot, hard, and fast. The pleasure and pressure between us built and built, until we both exploded, finding our release together.
Then, when it was over, I slumped down over his body. Owen’s arms went around me, and he drew me even closer to him, cradling me against his chest and murmuring how much he loved me over and over again. I buried my face in his neck.
And it was only then that I truly let go and drowned in all the horrible emotions and memories of the day.
My feeling of frenzy slowly dissipated, and I shuddered out a breath, going limp and boneless in Owen’s warm, solid embrace. His murmurs slowly faded away, but he kept stroking my hair, arms, and back, as if trying to reassure me with every soft skim of his fingers that this was real, that he was here, and that neither one of us was going anywhere.
Maybe he was trying to prove that to himself too.
For the first time since Benson had shoved that Burn pill into my mouth, I felt truly safe, like the vampire would never be able to hurt me again. Of course, that wasn’t true, and it wouldn’t be true, not until I killed him. But as I listened to Owen’s heart drumming in his chest, I let myself have the illusion of safety, at least for the rest of this night.
Because tomorrow would be even more dangerous than today. Tomorrow I would face down my enemy—and only one of us would live through the confrontation.
25
I drifted off to sleep and woke up sometime before dawn. Owen was still holding me close with one arm, while the other was thrown up over his head. He must have grabbed the sheets sometime during the night and flipped them up onto us, because we were cocooned together in a warm web of silk. Not wanting to disturb him, I slid out of his embrace and out of bed.
I went into the bathroom, stepped into the shower, and turned it on as hot as I could stand it, letting the water beat against my body. Jo-Jo had healed my injuries last night, but my muscles still felt stiff and sore from all the fights of yesterday, so I stood under the scalding spray until everything felt loose and warm. A white, fluffy robe was hanging on the back of the door, so I grabbed it and put it on before going back out into the stateroom.
Owen was still asleep, soft snores rumbling out of his mouth, but I was too restless to lie back down, so I unlocked the door and went out into the hallway. The only sound was the soft, steady slosh-slosh-slosh of water against the riverboat. Jo-Jo had said that Phillip had everyone, except for a few of his most trusted workers, cleared off the boat when Owen and the others brought me on board. I climbed a set of stairs, which took me to the third level, then opened a door and stepped outside onto the main deck.
It was a beautiful September morning, cool and crisp, and I shivered with a delicious chill as a faint breeze danced over my face and gusted through my wet hair. The sun was just rising over the tops of the eastern mountains, streaking the sky with layers of red, orange, and yellow. The warm, vibrant colors reminded me of those in the heart-and-arrow sign outside Northern Aggression.
Despite the early hour, I wasn’t the only one out and about. Sophia was here too, sitting in a white cushioned deck chair next to the gangplank that led to the ground and watching a movie on her tablet. Probably one of those old westerns she loved so much, judging from the faint toot-toot of a train whistle and the soft crack-crack-cracks of gunfire that drifted out of the device. An open metal thermos sat on the deck next to her chair, the wisps of steam curling up out of the container bringing the rich scent of chicory coffee along with them. A shotgun lay next to the thermos on the deck, and a second, matching weapon was propped up against the railing.