He sat down on the edge of the bed, our smell still on the sheets, and patted the s.p.a.ce next to him. Once I sat, he picked up my hand, turning it over to study my palm, rubbing circles onto it before letting it go.

"You understand that Bryan and you both belong, technically, to both pa -?" Zane started.

"Gangs. We'll just say gangs."

"Fine, gangs. You understand what I'm saying?"

"I don't think I belong to anyone or anything, but if you mean by birth, I understand."

"Good enough. Well, Bryan was the one who was...important...to Cain. Cain is my father. He is the Alpha of Savage Blood. Derek, your father, was his foster brother. Not a blood relation. His father had taken Derek in as his own when his parents were killed. Derek and Cain were close for a long time. Cain came into power, taking over, at eighteen."

"Why so young?"

"His father died."

"I don't like this pattern of short life spans."

"It's a violent life." He stood and paced the room, running his hands through his hair, lost in thought.

I was prepared to hear whatever it was as long as it was the truth. I'd had too many years of nothing.

"I think - no, I know - that Cain felt responsible for Derek's death."

"Why?"

"Ah, Aria." He shook his head, running his hands through his hair, gripping and pulling for a moment. "Just let me tell you my way, okay? I only hope you don't hate me when I do."

I went to him, taking his face in my hands. "I wouldn't. I couldn't hate you."

He turned away. "I hope that's true."

"Please go on. I need you to tell me."

"I didn't meet Bryan by accident. I was sent to hunt him. To find him and to bring him home, as my father said."

"Recruit him?"

"Yes." He paused, sitting down, again taking my hand in his, studying the lines on my palm. "Back then, things were good. I was my father's son. Next in line to take over. I was only eighteen myself," he said, his gaze finally meeting mine as if he were waiting for something, for me to tell him it was okay.

I nodded. I needed for him to continue.

"I never meant for any harm to come to anyone, but I was naive. I see it now. Doesn't change anything, but I see it. I met Bryan at school and we became friends, as you know. My intention was to do whatever it took to get him to come back with me, but then I realized I wasn't faking the friendship. He was a great guy. I liked him. I liked your mom, even though I'd been told she was the one keeping him away from us. That she would take him to Rage. That was an outright lie though. I don't think your mom had any intention of ever telling you about the packs...the gangs. About where you came from. At least not you. She'd have had to tell Bryan, for obvious reasons. Unless the change didn't happen."

His expression hardened at that and he released my hand, standing again. He paced, wearing only a pair of jeans, his feet bare, his chest bare. Seeing all that hard muscle, the power beneath the skin, it made me want him all over again, the ache between my legs not important. I wanted him inside me again.

He stopped and turned to me with a small smile. "And you. I liked you. You were a kid when I first met you, but within a few months you'd changed. Grown. That draw to you, I don't know if it was right or wrong, but it was - is - irresistible. Just as powerful now as it was then. More so."

I made to stand and go to him, but he held up his hand.

"No, I owe you the rest."

"Okay."

"I reported back on my progress weekly, and my father was growing anxious, irritated that it was taking me so long. Thing was, though, I was having doubts by then. If Bryan decided to come back with me, he'd have to leave you behind. Heather would try to stop him, and I wasn't even sure how he'd say good-bye. If we'd leave in the middle of the night. I didn't feel good about that. It didn't feel right, and I put it off and put it off. But then, Bryan came home with that tattoo. He hadn't told me he was going to do it. He'd just done it. He'd decided. He was killed two weeks later. Two weeks after I'd told my father that he was in. That he was coming home with me."

He stopped talking as if waiting for me to catch up. To catch on. My mind worked at putting two and two together, trying to understand what he was saying - what he wasn't saying.

"Do you think your dad...ordered it to be done?" My voice shook as I asked it, understanding now why he'd said he hoped I wouldn't hate him.

He nodded once, making every hair on my body stand on end.

"But I don't understand. Why? If he wanted you to recruit him?"

"That's just it, Aria. I don't think he ever wanted that. I think it was a lie. He used me to find you. To make all of you trust me."

I stared, trying to understand the manipulations, the layers of betrayal.

"He denies it still, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

Something wasn't right though. It didn't make sense. Why would Cain have bothered with having Zane befriend Bryan? Why not just carry out the plan to kill him?

But Zane was convinced. And he hated his father.

"That night, after the hotel - you think I ran away."

"You disappeared. I didn't know where you were. The police wanted to talk to you, too, and no one could find you."

"When I saw the black roses, I couldn't deny who'd done it. I knew it had been a pack kill. There was a reason my dad sent me to find Bryan. I was good at it, good at finding people, good at hunting them down." His voice sounded lower as he spoke, the words fired with disgust. "I did what I was so good at. I hunted the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who'd carried out the order and I killed them. I beat them with my bare hands, and I didn't stop until their bones cracked and they lay dead at my feet."

Emotion drained from his eyes, leaving only darkness behind as he spoke of that night, of what he'd done. He kept his fisted hands at his sides, and although he remained facing me, I wasn't sure he saw me at all. All the while, I sat, unable to move, trying to understand it all, to make sense of something so wrong, so horrible.

He kept staring at a s.p.a.ce on the floor as he continued, and this time, I rose and went to him.

"I never went back after that. I'd finally seen what kind of man he was. What he was capable of. I never saw my father again - not until I went to him to find out if he'd left the black rose in your car."

"Zane." I reached for him, but when I touched him, he shook me off and stepped back.

"It's what I come from."

"This wasn't your fault," I said, not allowing him to push me away this time, taking his face in my hands while his bloodshot eyes searched mine. "He used you. He manipulated you."

"And my stupid desire to please that man, to be the son he'd be proud of, got your family killed, Aria." He pulled my wrists behind my back, gripping them tightly. "I'm the reason they're dead. Do you get that? If it wasn't for me, they'd be alive today."

I shook my head as he walked me backward toward the bed.

"It's my fault. All of it. And if it weren't for that d.a.m.ned rose in your car, I'd take you as far from this place as possible and make you stay away. Make you stay away from me. Your grandfather was right to keep you out of reach of either pack. It's the only way for you to have a chance at a normal life."

"Normal? Normal was out the night I saw my family slain. And I don't want to stay away from you. I don't think I can anymore."

His grip on me hardened, but when he pressed against me, I felt something else. He was battling himself. Fighting this thing, this sense of right.

But he was wrong. He was so f.u.c.king wrong.

"Then you're not listening. You're not hearing what I'm saying," he said, releasing my wrists and pushing me to sit on the bed. "Don't be stupid, Aria. Save yourself."

I stood, our bodies touching, my forehead not quite at his chin.

"You're the one who's stupid, Zane. You're so caught in beating yourself up over being taken advantage of, being manipulated, that you can't see what's right here in front of your eyes."

"I see what's in front of me. I see a girl who doesn't know where she comes from or the blood that runs in her veins. A girl who has enemies simply for being who she is. A girl whose life can become even more dangerous if she stays with me." He hung his head, clutching it in his hands. "I cannot have your blood on my hands, too."

I reached for him, but he grabbed my wrists again, not allowing the touch at first. But then, he released me, let me trace my fingers upward and cup his face, to make him look at me. But the darkness that stared back at me wasn't all I saw. A vulnerability, a grief so deep, so consuming, twisted my heart.

"They're not the only ones I've killed, Aria."

"I don't care."

I kissed him.

"I almost killed Fly."

"And he's loyal to you now."

I kissed him harder, even though he didn't open to the kiss.

"He's stupid, too."

"Then I guess we're all stupid." I pressed my hands into the sides of his head, needing to make him kiss me back. I could feel his erection against my belly. He wanted me. He wanted this. But he thought he was trying to do the right thing. "And you're the stupidest of all of us," I said, pulling the shirt over my head, watching his hungry gaze rake over my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, my belly, my s.e.x. "Make love to me, Zane. I want you inside me. I need you there."

He shook his head and, with one hand, shoved me down onto the bed. "No." he climbed on top of me, fisting my hair, holding me immobile as he crushed his mouth on mine. I sat up, fumbling for the b.u.t.ton on his jeans until he pushed me backward, his grip hurting now. His eyes burned into mine, desire raw, hard. "I'm not going to make love to you."

"I need you."

He shook his head and kissed me again. With his free hand, he undid his jeans, opening them, his thick c.o.c.k already wet at the tip. I licked my lips, wanting to lick him, to taste him like I had that night six years ago when he'd shot down my throat, making me choke. The memory of it had my p.u.s.s.y clenching, my thighs wet with need. "Please."

"No lovemaking." He released me, flipping me over onto my belly and hoisting my hips up so I knelt before him on elbows and knees, my a.s.s high in the air. He shoved my legs wider and pulled his jeans lower, gripping his c.o.c.k.

"f.u.c.king, Aria," he said, his gaze moving to my a.s.s as one hand pulled my cheek out. "I'm going to f.u.c.k you like I like now. Like I need to." I felt the head of his c.o.c.k at my entrance as he gripped my hips. "And when I'm done f.u.c.king this wet little c.u.n.t, you'll know what it means to be mine. You'll know what to expect every time."

I gasped as he thrust in to the hilt, punishing me, his fingers digging into my flesh, a deep rumble building in his chest.

"You're soaked, Aria." His voice was lower, darker. "Your c.u.n.t is f.u.c.king dripping around me." He pulled back, his gaze on his c.o.c.k as he pulled out and did it again, thrusting hard. "So f.u.c.king tight." He thrust again, groaning, closing his eyes for a moment as he fully seated himself. "I need to come inside you, Aria."

I nodded, swallowing hard as he moved one hand around, two fingers finding my c.l.i.t. He watched me while he worked it, moving slowly inside me while I stretched around him.

"I'm going to come, Zane."

Still manipulating my c.l.i.t, he drew all the way out and thrust in again, one hand holding me in place. I'd have bruises tomorrow. "Come with me."

He f.u.c.ked me hard, and I buried my face in the blankets, becoming pure sensation as rough fingers worked my c.l.i.t and his too thick, too long c.o.c.k f.u.c.ked my p.u.s.s.y raw. When the first wave came, I moaned, hearing that low rumble from his chest, feeling his c.o.c.k swell even bigger.

"Come, baby. Christ. Come on my c.o.c.k, Aria. Come...f.u.c.k..." He stilled as he pinched my c.l.i.t hard, his c.o.c.k pulsing, feeling him releasing inside me as I throbbed around him, milking him of every drop, wanting him inside me, needing him, knowing this was where he belonged, with me. Always.

Chapter Ten.

Zane The things I left out, she didn't need to know.

At least I kept telling myself that. Like the fact that my father had ordered her father's killing. Or...other things. Right now, I just wanted to look at her. What had to happen next would happen, but right now, I wanted - no, I needed - to keep her right here, in my bed, in my arms and away from a world full of monsters.

I couldn't stop looking at her, at her face. Her hair looked good dark, but I liked natural better. If she was going for something more dramatic, something harder, it wasn't working. In fact, the harsh black she'd chosen only seemed to emphasize her fragility. Her vulnerability.

I swallowed, my c.o.c.k hardening. It was f.u.c.ked up that that last part was what got me hard. If I were n.o.bler, I'd think it was the fact that she needed saving. That she needed my protection. That she needed me.

But it wasn't that, not even close. I had no delusions about who I was. About what I was.

Pulling the covers back, I gazed at her. With a murmur, she rolled onto her back as if to accommodate me.

Good girl.

Her skin was a pale shade of beige, not too white, just enough warmth to the hue. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were small, smaller than a handful, but I'd always been more of an a.s.s man anyway. And speaking of her a.s.s...

But I was getting ahead of myself. As quietly as I could, I laid my head lightly on her belly, looking at the slit of her p.u.s.s.y. Watching it like it would get up and do a show. I'd washed her last night, but I liked her covered in my c.u.m. I liked my smell on her. I liked the idea of owning her. She'd given me her virginity. I'd been the first to come in her mouth and the first to come in her p.u.s.s.y. And I'd be the first to come in her a.s.s.

But not yet. I didn't want to shock the girl.

She made a small sound, and I shifted my position so my head was on her legs and I could see that c.u.n.t from a different angle. G.o.d, I loved p.u.s.s.y. I loved to look at it. I loved to smell it. I loved to eat it and I loved to f.u.c.k it. But with her, it was different than with anyone else. It was more. Did the trauma we'd shared make it so? Was it that she'd given me her firsts?

Given.

Didn't you take that first first, a.s.shole?

She'd been sixteen and I'd been eighteen. She'd sucked my c.o.c.k, and I'd eaten her p.u.s.s.y. And then - no, I wasn't going there. Not f.u.c.king now.

I don't know if I'd been wrong then. Maybe. But it had come to a point where I hadn't been able to say no anymore. She'd been flirting with me for months. She'd rub up against me accidentally. Tease me. Display her little t.i.ts in front of my face whenever she could. Still, I was the older one. I'd taken her to that hotel. I'd said just one look. Just one taste. And then, well, I hadn't f.u.c.ked her. That was something, right?

Sure.

a.s.shole.

She opened her legs a little, giving me more. I'd shave her myself today. I'd wash her again then lay her on the bed and feast on that p.u.s.s.y. I'd make her turn over and show me that a.s.s of hers, the memory of her on her hands and knees before me, her a.s.s spread open, everything bared for me as my c.o.c.k disappeared inside that juicy little c.u.n.t burned onto my brain.

I wondered how tight her a.s.shole would be. Christ, she'd squeeze me to death if her c.u.n.t was any indication.