High Voltage (Fever #10)(99)

I wouldn’t miss this adventure with him for anything in the world.





The best is yet to come

I WORKED ALL NIGHT ON Ryodan’s tattoo, racing the clock, worried that—given how unpredictable my life is—something might happen to keep me from finishing the brand before I became whatever I was becoming. I doubted a Hunter’s massive talons were capable of the dexterity necessary to painstakingly ink the delicate, many-layered spell into his skin.



We talked nonstop, making each other laugh, sharing stories of outlandish adventures we’d had, subtly one-upping each other and laughing at ourselves for doing it. Ryodan is as self-aware as I am. Okay, maybe a little more. Thing is, we love the game we play, the way we provoke each other, we thrive on it. And that was a trait I couldn’t wait to explore in bed with him. People say opposites attract and that’s true, they do—combustively, and short-term. I think it’s those with like minds and hearts that succeed long-term.



Late that morning, as I inked the final lines of the tattoo, I inhaled sharply. I felt an instant, subtle yet pervasive connection to him that I couldn’t begin to put into words, an omnipresent awareness of him on a cellular level. “Is this what you’ve always felt since you tattooed me?”

“To a degree. Now that we both wear the brand, it’s stronger,” he said, turning around in the chair to face me. “You’re feeling a connection to my essential energy, for lack of a better phrase.”

His “essential energy” was comprised of a staggering amount of raw sexuality and tightly leashed hunger. For everything: more life, more sex, more toys, more adventure. He was one thousand percent exhilarated to be alive. All the time. Like me.

“You’re on the surface. You’ll always feel me now. Think of it as a bridge between us. We can stay on our own sides as we are, or we can move across it, entering each other to various degrees. Respect is paramount. If you resist my presence at any time, I’ll back off. You’re entitled to your secrets. You choose what to let me see. This kind of intimate connection can be beautiful or terrible. Never take, only ask, never force, only offer, respect boundaries.”

Always, I vowed silently. Such access was a privilege, not to be taken for granted or exploited. I expanded my senses and, as he allowed me to delve deeper, I gasped again.

He was all around me, a great big sexy Ryodan blanket rubbing up against my mind. It felt as if I was slipping deeper inside him, not perceiving him in words, but tasting him with an unnamed sense. Discovering his nuances. There were no lies or deceptions here; it was open, raw, only what it was; good, bad, and ugly. No wonder he’d said we were going to know each other more intimately than people ever could!



The taste of him was addictive. He was proud, strong, had often been a king during his life, determined, fiercely focused on the things he cared about and ferociously protective of them. But he was right, he was beast first, human second. I wouldn’t have believed that until this moment, so flawlessly had Ryodan perfected his man’s skin. His beast was savage, primitive, its law utterly self-serving, an endless roar inside that said: I’M KING OF THIS MOTHERFUCKING JUNGLE. EVERYTHING IS MINE. I WANT IT ALL, ALL THE TIME. His beast was ancient, ruthless, voracious, craved everything sensual and immediately gratifying, and it had absolutely no—

Careful…you sure you want to know that? Soft laughter rolled in my mind.

“No conscience,” I said, stunned. “Good grief, your beast has absolutely no morals, scruples, or ethics. Nothing even close.”



“Only those rules I make and enforce on it. It’s an eternal battle. I usually win.” He flashed me a feral, fierce smile. “But there are times, such as war, when I get to set the beast free.”

He loved those times. Felt undivided in his own skin for a rare time. Yet always hungered for a return to the man and his world, those he’d chosen as his family.

“Dani, I feel the Hunter in you,” he said quietly.

“And?”

“It’s beautiful.” One more time, his silver gaze didn’t say. That’s all you’ve got.

And I didn’t say, Then I’ll never use it again.



And he didn’t say, Thank you for that.

Because we both knew I’d use it the next time it was needed. Just like we both knew he would devolve into a lawless monster the next time the opportunity presented itself.

We were what we were, and nothing could change that.

Love doesn’t build cages. It builds stairways to the stars.

“Close your eyes,” I said softly, ready to test just how intimate we could be. When he did, I focused on the connection between us, locking everything in the room down on my mental grid, re-creating us in a private space in my mind as I closed my own eyes.

“Christ, you’re a natural,” he said roughly. “I’m here with you.”

Because of the way I’d taught myself to use my brain, it was second nature to re-create reality in my mind. In the illusion, I stalked hungrily toward him, straddled his lap and slid my arms around his neck, staring down at him. Sexy, brilliant, pain in the ass man, and all mine. Bloody hell, he hadn’t lied, I could feel every inch of his body, indistinguishable from reality.

“I feel it, too, now that we’re both branded,” he said roughly. “Before I couldn’t.” His hands slid up my waist, stopping at the curve of my breasts, thumbs drifting up to graze my nipples. I sucked in a shallow breath, jerking from the erotic contact. “Christ, you’re incredible.”