And in turn, that would lead to him wanting to claim her to keep that connection with her.
He wouldn’t force sex upon her just to relieve himself of the instincts that were pushing him to claim her. She was right. She needed to be sure of her feelings, and his.
As for him, he was sure of them.
So sure that he couldn’t stop himself from doing exactly what she clearly expected of him.
“Leave,” he croaked as need rose within him, battering the walls of the cage he had constructed around his instincts, attempting to break free and seize control of him. “I don’t want to hurt you, Mackenzie. I don’t want to wreck this thing between us by making a wrong move.”
She stared at him.
Wrecked him by shaking her head and refusing to go.
Utterly destroyed him as she came to him and lifted her hands to frame his face.
And softly kissed him.
Chapter 23
Mackenzie had realised something over the last few days, something Syn had made her aware of by constantly getting between her and Hartt, stopping Mackenzie from being able to reach him.
To touch him.
To kiss him.
Hartt wasn’t the only one with a mating instinct.
More than once, she had found herself filled with rage, with a need to strike her friend down for daring to stop her from reaching Hartt. More than once, she had wanted to claw the eyes out of the female serving staff of the bastion, blinding them for daring to look upon Hartt.
More than once, she had come close to going supernova.
Even when she knew that Hartt wouldn’t be able to survive the cleansing fire she wanted to use to eradicate everyone within several hundred feet, stopping them from being able to gaze upon him, halting their plans to steal him from her.
He was right—mating instincts sucked.
They didn’t only trigger when others stood between them or looked at him either.
They triggered every damned time he looked at her. Just the feel of his gaze on her was enough to have her blood heating to dangerous levels, flooded her with a desperate need to seize hold of him and kiss him.
And not stop there.
She wanted him again.
Wanted him so badly that she couldn’t sleep at night, that she writhed in her lonely bed, tangling the sheets around her limbs as her mind filled with thoughts of him, with wicked visions of making love.
She had also realised something else during the painful last few days.
Hartt was putting himself through this same torment, all to prove to her that his feelings for her were true, not because they were fated for each other.
And those feelings were true.
As true as hers were for him.
She was falling for him too, had been from the second she had set eyes on him, from the very first time they had fought. He had mesmerised her then, had fascinated her and drawn her to him, and that pull she felt towards him had only grown in the time she had known him, had taken shape and revealed itself as something more than lust.
It was love.
That was the reason she had been hurt when she had thought he wanted another, when the hope she’d had for them had become nothing more than a dream, one she had felt sure had slipped through her fingers.
Now, as she stood in some sort of dead garden, staring into his eyes, she could see in them that she had been wrong about so many things.
His amethyst eyes were warm as he spoke with her, filled with not only the heat of desire but that softness she had wanted to see in them—a look that made her feel as if she was the most important thing in his entire world.
Made her feel as if she was the centre of his universe, and that she always would be if she only gave up the fight and accepted his love for her—and her love for him.
He had looked at Iolanthe with warmth in his eyes, but not like this. He hadn’t looked at the elf in the way he had looked at Mackenzie over the last few days, sneaking glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, lingering with his gaze on her face and a look of yearning in his eyes.
One that made her certain his feelings for her were constant. Deep. A forever kind of love.
And sure, in part it was probably because they were fated, because destiny had made them for each other, gifting them with the potential for a powerful bond that would only deepen their love for each other.
But only deepen it.
This feeling she had for him was real.
So when he told her to leave, looked desperate for her to do as he asked, as if she would be torturing him by remaining, she stopped fighting her feelings.
Rather than running from him as he wanted, she did what she wanted—she closed the distance between them. Cupped his face. Kissed him with all the love that beat in her racing heart, aware of where it would lead them.
A little afraid of it.
His hands shook as he claimed her waist, as he gently pulled her towards him and angled his head, deepening the kiss. She wasn’t the only one afraid, wasn’t the only one aware of how their life was about to change.
They both knew where this kiss would lead them.
She looped her arms around his neck and gasped into his mouth as cold darkness washed over her and then her back hit a wall. The smell of oil lamps swirled around her, mingling with Hartt’s earthy masculine scent, together with a smoky woody note she hoped wasn’t her hunger getting out of control.
Hartt helped her make sense of her new location by releasing her and stepping back. She glanced at the room, a quick sweep of it that revealed black walls and a fireplace, and a solitary window. This wasn’t the vampire stronghold.
Her thoughts fled as Hartt turned her to face the wall, as he growled and tugged at the lacing on the back of her corset. His hips pressed forwards as he worked to untie it, flooding her with heat that made her head a little hazy and had her pressing her backside against his groin. He groaned and forgot the laces, gripped her hips and rubbed against her instead, and she moaned as she felt how hard he was for her.
He dropped his head and kissed her bare shoulder as he ground against her, as he fell into an easy rhythm that maddened her, had moisture pooling between her thighs and an ache to feel him filling her running through her.
Mackenzie’s hands flew to the buttons of her leathers, made fast work of them as her breaths quickened, as anticipation and need combined to drive her to the brink of insanity. Hartt groaned as she skimmed her hands around the waist of her trousers, as her fingers brushed his. He took over, eased the leather over her hips and kissed down her spine as he sank lower behind her.
A little moan escaped her, a shiver tripping through her as he cleared the bottom of her corset and his lips brushed her overheating skin. His answering moan joined it as he eased back and his gaze seared her backside.
“Gods, this is sexy.” He fingered the sheer lace of her shorts, sending another shiver cascading through her. His deep rumbling purr of approval heated her as he traced the shape of her underwear, skimming fingers along the hem of it where it ended just above the curve of her buttocks. “I have never seen anything like this.”
“Clearly, you don’t get out of Hell much… or laid much.” She looked over her shoulder at him, a pulse of arousal running through her as she found him staring at her backside, looking like a man starved and on the brink himself. “I like the idea of the latter.”
Because the thought of him with another woman made her want to be violent.