“Oh.”
“Do you think less of me for it?”
“Probably. But I’ve done things myself that I’ve known were wrong.”
“But you did them for survival.”
“That’s really no excuse. Since when is my survival more important than anyone else’s?”
“It is to me.”
Since her mother’s death, she’d felt as though there was no one who cared whether she lived or died. She was useful to Asmodai, but that was probably all she was to him. Now here was this beautiful man—well maybe not man, but definitely beautiful—and for some strange reason he cared for her. One day soon, she would ask him why. It wasn’t in her nature to just accept things without questioning, but right now she was going to bask in the glow.
Just for a little while.
Surely, she could allow herself that.
“But I haven’t performed a human sacrifice in two thousand years.”
“How about eating them?”
“Most survived; some even enjoyed the experience.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Look, I’ll never be a good person, but I’ve come to terms with what I am, and I have my own set of codes that I don’t cross.”
“It’s none of my business.”
“You’re lying in my bed, naked. I think that makes it your business.”
She peered under the sheet and grinned. “So I am.”
“So you are.”
His voice sounded different, and she glanced up at his face. His eyes were hot and hungry. Her skin suddenly felt too sensitive for the covering, and she peeled it off, wriggled down in the bed, and saw his lips curl in a slow smile that revealed one sharp, white fang.
At the sight, her muscles tensed, and that insistent pulse throbbed between her thighs. He came up over her, and his mouth drifted down over her body, kissing her breasts, then lower, until his cool breath ruffled the curls at the base of her belly.
He shifted beside her so he could kiss the inside of her thigh. “You know you have a vein”—he kissed her again— “just here.” He licked her skin, and the breath caught in her throat. Glancing up the length of her body, there was a question in his eyes.
She nodded and held herself still as his fangs punctured the flesh of her inner thigh. Heat flooded her, soaking her core, and she let her head fall back and gave herself up to the rhythmic tugging. One hand slid up her thigh, easing between the folds of her sex. Her whole body jerked in response as his finger pushed inside her. Then withdrew, and in again, so he was moving to the rhythmic tug of his mouth. Roz could feel the heat building inside her, then he stroked the pad of his thumb over her clit and she came in a slow wave of pleasure that rolled over her, sucking her under.
When she came back to herself, he was lapping at the small wound. He caught her gaze. “Thank you.”
She let out a breathy laugh. “It was my pleasure.”
Chapter Eighteen
Roz was dozing, snuggled up against his cool, hard body, when the shrill ring of the phone jolted her awake.
Piers picked it up and listened.
“Your old boyfriend’s here,” he said as he put the phone down.
“Asmodai?”
“Yeah. They’re all waiting for us.”
“Damn.” But they had to get up at some point, and sooner rather than later. Dawn was only a few hours away and presumably, Piers would need to sleep. And there were things to do, people to see.
“Do you have to sleep during the daytime?” she asked.
“No. When I was younger I had no choice; I had to sleep. Now, I can choose, but it’s better if I rest.”
She tried to imagine what it would be like to live in perpetual nighttime. “Do you miss the sunlight?”
“No. I was always a creature of the night, even when I lived.”
She had a lover. A vampire lover.
And she guessed she was in love. She was trying not to think of that aspect too much, in case she scared herself off. It was funny to think that she trusted herself less than she trusted Piers. But she knew what a fucked-up mess she was. And she’d lost too many people she cared about.
But Piers had lived for two thousand years; surely he was a safe bet for a while longer. He could take care of himself.
She glanced down at the small wound on her inner thigh. At least it had stopped bleeding. There was another at her throat. She’d look like a pincushion if they weren’t careful. How often did he have to feed? Would he feed from other people? She wasn’t sure she liked the idea.
She made a mental note to go talk to Tara at some point. She presumed vampires followed the same rules—sort of.
Her glance strayed to her upper arm, where the sigil still showed, like black ink against the pale skin of her arm.
“How well do you know Asmodai?” she asked as she searched the floor for her clothes. Somehow they had become scattered around the room.
Piers was still lying on the bed, amazingly sexy with the sheet just covering his thighs—like some Playgirl model. His streaky blond hair was loose about his shoulders. Now he sighed, running a hand through it. “Better than I’d like to,” he answered.
He pulled himself up and off the bed. Roz stopped what she was doing and watched—she couldn’t help herself—as he stalked naked across the floor and opened the wardrobe. He selected a pair of jeans and dragged them on, the soft denim clinging to the long lines of his legs. He rubbed a hand across his bare chest as he considered the contents, then took a blue shirt off the hanger. He pulled it on but left it hanging open. It was the exact same color as his eyes. Had he worn it on purpose because he knew she’d be mesmerized? Maybe the casual clothes were an attempt to appear more approachable, less scary.
He smiled as if he could read her thoughts and flashed her a fang-filled smile. Maybe he didn’t care how scary he was after all.
“You can’t read my mind, can you?” she asked.
“Not your mind, no. But your face—when you don’t attempt to hide what you’re feeling, well, your face can be very expressive.”
“And what’s my expression right now?” She wasn’t sure she was going to like this.
He shrugged. “You want me. And you can have me. But first…”
“First, we’ve got to see a demon.” She tugged her T-shirt over her head and smoothed it down, then found her jeans in the open doorway and pulled them on. Finally, her sneakers, and she was ready to go.
Piers was buttoning his shirt—pity.
…
They didn’t talk as he led the way from his apartment up a couple of floors in the elevator and along the corridor to his office. He could sense the people inside, and he had an almost irrational urge to turn around and go back.
He could still feel the buzz of her blood in his system, taste the unique sweetness of her. She’d opened for him more than he’d expected. He guessed she was feeling vulnerable right now, but who knew how long that would last before she turned back to her prickly self.
But they needed to decide on their next move. Andarta had the Key, and he had no doubt she would use it and would likely move fast. They had already taken enough time out.
What would be the first target? Earth or the Faelands? He was betting Earth, but all the same, he had to organize a meeting with the fae and let them know a demon had the means to open the portals to their world. They weren’t likely to be happy. Totally pissed off, in fact.
He hated dealing with the fae at the best of times. Fucking fairies, with their purity of blood crap that they spouted at every opportunity.
Also, he wanted to get the meeting with Asmodai over with. Then Roz would be free of the demon. As demons went, Asmodai was one of the better guys—at least when he made the effort to be—but he was still a demon and would have his own agenda.