Page 74 of Yearning For Her

“Yours?” he asked, holding the phone out to her.

Willow reached for it, desperate to escape. “Yes. Thank you.”

He lifted it, dangling it just out of her reach, before he dropped it into her purse. The fingers of his other hand grasped her chin, keeping her gaze locked with his. “Such pretty eyes you have.” He brushed his thumb along her jaw. “Let’s make use of all this desire. You want that, don’t you?”

Her phone buzzed inside her purse. “No, no, I...”

“I can feel your desire, your need. I can give you that release.”

The stranger’s voice flowed into Willow. It was so strong, so confident, so alluring, so…insidious. She felt his words worming deeper, forcing their way between her thoughts, strangling her willpower.

This was all wrong. Willow…didn’t want this. It was Kian she wanted, not this stranger. She needed to run, to scream, to find help.

But all she could do was stare into this man’s eyes and nod as something heavier pressed into her soul, instilling her with want, igniting a lust that had Willow reaching for him. Her hands slid up his chest to clutch at the vest beneath his suit jacket.

“That’s it,” he whispered, dropping his hands to her hips and pulling her against him. “Give in to me. Give in to your desire.”

Alarms blared in the back of Willow’s mind, but she couldn’t heed them. Her head was fuzzy. Hazy. And her body…it didn’t seem to belong to her anymore. Like a master puppeteer, the man guided her to the alley behind the restaurant, and she was only distantly aware of how dangerous this was, how wrong this was, those misgivings drowned out by a consuming need.

Her fingers worked at the buttons of his vest, tearing them open to reach the shirt beneath. Skin. She wanted to touch his flesh, to feel his heat, wanted his body against hers.

He chuckled, the dark sound rolling over her as he pressed her back against the building. It was colder in the shade, and the smell of rotten garbage drifted to her nose, but it was swiftly obliterated by his leather and musk aroma. His scent clouded her thoughts further and fanned the flames of her lust. The stranger took her purse and dropped it to the ground. With it out of the way, he grasped his shirt and tore it open.

Willow immediately flattened her hands on his bare chest. Heat radiated from him, so much delicious heat.

He hooked the collar of her dress, along with the bra strap beneath it, and tugged them aside to expose her shoulder before dropping his mouth to her neck. Willow gasped when he latched on and sucked hard. She arched against him. Something in the back of her mind continued to scream and cry, but it was muffled, becoming quieter with every moment.

The man slipped a leg between her thighs and raised it until his knee pressed to the apex of her sex. Willow’s internal scream fell silent. She moaned, grinding herself against his leg, driven by raw, carnal need.

“Ah, your lust. It’s so potent, so delicious,” he said against her throat. Raising his head, he placed a fingertip beneath her chin and lifted her face to his. “I need more.” His gaze dipped to her mouth, and he leaned forward.

His lips drew close enough to hers for his warm breath to tickle and tease her skin. She needed his kiss, was desperate for him to slant his mouth over hers, to take everything from her.

A growl reverberated off the surrounding concrete. Though familiar, the sound was startlingly primal, and it cut through the thick haze in Willow’s mind.

The stranger grunted. His head snapped back, and then he was torn away from her, his nails scraping her skin as his hold broke. She staggered forward, eyes widening as the man slammed into the wall of the opposite building.

The entire alley shuddered, and bricks cracked behind his back. A tall figure dressed in black was there, his hand around the man’s throat, with a shock of white hair hanging over one shoulder.

Kian?

It was like a bucket of ice water had been poured over Willow’s head, suffusing her with cold. She released a harsh exhalation as her rapid, pounding pulse permeated her being. Her body trembled with equal amounts of lust, dread, and fear.

What had she done?

The dark-haired stranger grabbed Kian’s arm, his lips peeling back in a fanged snarl. His eyes, a steely gray before, now glowed crimson. “What is this, Pale One?”

Willow’s heart skipped a beat as a wave of something powerful swept into her. It twisted everything inside her, weighed down her limbs, and intensified that inner chill. She stumbled back until she hit the wall.

He’s not human. He’s… Oh God, he’s like Kian!

“You touched what was mine!” Kian snarled as he hammered his fist into the stranger’s face. The man’s head snapped aside, but turned back toward Kian immediately, and that power, that oppressive force, strengthened.

Willow’s knees nearly buckled. She pressed her hands against the wall, clutching for purchase and finding none.

“Release me,” the stranger said through his teeth. His voice echoed unnaturally in the alley, seeming to build on itself.

Eyes blazing blue-white, Kian let out another growl. His fist was clenched so tight that his knuckles had gone completely white, and tremors coursed along his arm, clearly the result of immense tension. After a moment’s hesitation, he threw a wild flurry of blows at the stranger. The dark-haired man struggled to defend himself. Their movements were almost too fast for Willow’s eyes to follow—they were a whirlwind of savagery, clawing, striking, and wrestling, but Kian seemed to have the advantage.

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