Page 25 of The Brotherhood

Poppy’s throat contracted as she teetered on some edge she didn’t understand. She exhaled carefully. “Handy.”

The moment the word left her lips, he shuddered—a full-body reaction, his breath coming harder, like something inside him had shifted.

The next second, his forehead dropped against hers, his weight pressing her gently back, but it wasn’t forceful. It was need. A desperate, exhausted need.

His body trembled, muscles seizing before loosening, like he was losing a battle she couldn’t see.

Her hands rose without thought, fingers grazing the bare skin of his arms. Warm. Too warm. “I’m here,” she whispered. “I have you. You’re not lost.”

His breath hitched, then something snapped in him. Pain lanced through his body so sharply he jerked back, hands flying to his head. A broken gasp tore from his throat, his dark eyes wild.

No. No, no, no. Poppy reached for him, but he staggered, his arm slamming into the wall behind him. A pulse of energy rippled outward, shaking the room, the heat rising like a living thing. A choked snarl tore from Handy’s throat, his body jerking like something was ripping through him from the inside. His hands clutched at his chest, muscles locked in violent tremors, his breath rasping through clenched teeth. The red in his eyes flickered, shifting between something human and something other.

She had no weapons, no power, nothing that could fight the forces inside him. Except herself. Before she could second-guess the insanity, she surged forward and grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him. Hard. Desperate. A collision of heat and fury.

For a breath, his body became taut as a bowstring. Then—a detonation.

His arms snapped around her and pulled her into his body with a brutal force. A pulsing heat radiated off him, his breath ragged as if something inside him clawed for more. His grip remained fierce as they suddenly moved in reverse. The wall hit her back with a startling force as his hot mouth covered her cry, his tongue hungrily lashing hers.

Their hot breaths clashed loudly as he ripped at her dress then panties, shoving her up the wall and forcing her legs around him.

In a panic, she latched all her fingers tightly in his hair as something huge and hot pressed at her opening. In a single thrust, he filled her body with his manhood, stretching her so suddenly, she screamed from the shocking pain.

He thrust so very deep into her, faster and faster, his large hand fisting her hair tightly, the sharp pull merging with the rest of the power he unleashed.

The pain converged into something hungry, something desperate. Her legs tightened around him as his growls rose higher, deepened to lethal.

Oh God would she be killed? This couldn’t be death. She didn’t want to experience this only once.

****

The moment it was over, the fire in his blood dimmed, and the crushing weight of what he had done bore down on him.

His breath shuddered as he stared at Poppy beneath him—his lamb, his anchor, his ruin.

Her skin was marked, her breath uneven, body trembling against his own. He had taken her, devoured her. Let the chaos inside him consume them both. And she had let him. Didn’t fight him, not even a little.

But now?

Now she would feel it. The pain.

A deep, sharp ache spread through his chest. He cupped her face, brushing his lips over hers, gentle now, reverent. A stark contrast to the violence before.

“Poppy,” he whispered against her lips, his voice thick, wrecked.

She barely managed a breath, her fingers weakly clutching at him. She would remember this. She would remember him like this.

He couldn’t allow that.

With one last kiss, he let the charge in his body pulse through his fingers, a soft jolt snapping through her skin. Her body tensed, then slackened, her breathing evening out as she slipped into unconsciousness.

A bitter, hollow relief settled in his chest. She wouldn’t feel it. She wouldn’t see him like this.

He moved, adjusting her torn dress as best he could, ensuring she was covered before scooping her into his arms. Her head lolled against him, soft and fragile. Too fragile for what he had done to her.

He turned and moved with her toward the door, unlocking the system override with a thought.

The doors hissed open.

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