“I’m not sensitive to her magic, so no.”
I frowned. “I would have thought all Aedh would be sensitive to anything demon-related, given their traditional role of gate guardians.”
For a moment the darkness in his eyes was so intense it almost verged on insanity. It was gone just as quickly, but its mark remained, leaving me cold inside. It made me wonder why the hell I was spending so much time with him—what was the draw, beyond great sex? Why oh why did he have this incredible pull on me? Was it just a matter of Aedh calling Aedh? Or was there something else at work? Something deeper. Darker.
I really didn’t know, but I was beginning to suspect it might pay to find out.
“As I’ve mentioned before,” he said, “many things were ripped from me when they stole my wings and forever contained me in flesh.”
I forced a hand up and lightly caressed his cheek. “That doesn’t make you any less an Aedh in my eyes.”
He grinned, and the final remnants of darkness fled. “That’s because I’m still potent where it counts. Now stop avoiding the question.”
I hesitated. He couldn’t sense Amaya and—given th CndI’m stat she was shadow-wreathed and little more than invisible particles right now—he certainly wouldn’t feel her, so I saw no reason not to lie. Especially since I still had that niggling, deep-down chill and more than a small suspicion that he wasn’t being honest with me. “Well, there was much protest from Azriel, but I did do as you requested.”
“I’m glad. And thank you for trusting me.”
A statement that only made me feel bad for not trusting him.
He closed the oven door and walked around to where I stood. His lips brushed the back of my neck, and then he said softly, “Dinner will be another hour, at least. What do you suggest we do?”
His breath teased my earlobes, and a delighted shiver ran through me. “How about we talk?”
“About what?” The sound of my shift’s zipper being slid down seemed to echo through the vast space around us.
“How about why it took an hour to update the dark sorcerer, for a start. We both know that’s a lie, Lucian.”
“Perhaps.” His fingers brushed my spine, and desire coursed through me. “These scars are new.”
“They’re a present from the Rakshasa I killed.” My voice held a slightly husky edge. I swallowed some more champers, but it didn’t do a lot to curb the rise of desire. And whether the fierceness of that desire was natural or not didn’t really seem to matter at this point in time. “Explain what you mean by ‘perhaps.’”
He slid his hands around my waist, linking them just under my breasts. My nipples went tight. Ached with expectation.
“When you said you wanted to talk, I didn’t actually think you meant it.”
“I just want an honest answer, Lucian. That’s all.”
“There’s nothing sinister going on, if that’s what you’re implying. The simple fact is, no dark sorcerer does anything for nothing. She wanted payment, in blood.”
Horror twisted through me. I turned in his arms. “You didn’t give it to her, did you?”
“Why wouldn’t I? This is just a form I’m forced to use, Risa. I do not cherish it the way you all do.”
“But giving a dark sorcerer your blood? That’s like giving a thief free access to your credit card. It’s stupid—and dangerous.”
“She can’t do anything worse than what has already been done to me.” His voice was both grim and dark, and again it had me wondering just what lengths he’d go to for the sake of revenge. More than I could ever guess, I suspected. “I do not fear her, Risa, and neither should you.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe that statement one little bit.”
We were standing so close all I could smell was musky, powerful male, and all I could feel was the heat of his desire. It took every ounce of control to just stand there in his arms—to not tear his clothes off and beg him to take me there and then. But I wanted answers. Wanted honesty, and he wasn’t giving me either right now.
“She is an extremely old—and powerful—sorcerer, Risa.” He hooked his fingers under the shift’s shoulders and slid them down my arms. It fell to the floor in a river of soft black silk and puddled at my feet. “She didn’t get there by making foolish moves. She knows a reaper protects you.”
I clenched my fingers, fighting the urge to wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. “I got the feeling she wasn’t particularly scared of reapers.”
“Only a fool wouldn’t be wary of the reapers, and as I said, she is no fool.”
My gaze searched his, but what I was looking for I couldn’t honestly say. “You can’t be sure of that; you don’t know her.”
“I know her kind,” he murmured. “Just as I know your kind.”
Then he kissed me, and any sense of resistance fled. I gave in to desire and just enjoyed. Somewhere in all our kisses, my bra came off, as did my panties. Then his mouth left mine, and he kissed his way down my chin, then my neck. When he licked along my collarbone, I flung back my head and moaned softly. He chuckled, and continued his downward journey, catching one nipple lightly between his teeth. A shiver that was part fear, part delight, ran through me. He teased me with his teeth, stopping just on the cusp of hurting, then swirled his tongue around my nipple, taking away the sting before he moved across to the other side. Then his lips left my breasts and moved down my trembling belly. He dropped kisses on either thigh, then gently parted my legs and kissed me, his breath washing coolness against my heated flesh. Then his tongue swirled around my clit, alternating fast flicks with long, slow strokes and driving me insane in the process. I shuddered, shook, and moaned, as the low-down tightness spread rapidly through the rest of me, until it felt like I was on the edge of a precipice, unable to think, unable to breathe, and more than ready to fall over.
Then he was in me, driving hard, thrusting deep. I climbed up onto him, wrapped my legs around his waist, and forced him even deeper, my movements as frantic as his. There was little sound except the slap of flesh against flesh, and the heat of lust and sex was so fierce that the air shimmered with it. I came, screaming in pleasure, my body convulsing around his. Heard his answering growl, felt him come deep inside me, his body suddenly rigid against mine.
When I could finally breathe again, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him, long and slow. “Well,” I said, with a somewhat cheeky grin, “that filled five minutes. What next?”
“Next,” he said, cupping his hands under my butt, “we take this to a more comfortable situation.”
“And the kitchen bench wasn’t?” I murmured, wiggling a little against him. Despite having come only heartbeats ago, he was more than half ready to go again. The stamina of an Aedh left a werewolf for dead.
“It was suitable enough for a quick encounter, but I’m planning our next campaign to be a long one, and that always requires comfort.”
He shouldered open a door to reveal another large room. A king-sized bed dominated the middle of it, but in the far corner sat the working skeletons of a bathroom—including the biggest damn bathtub I’d ever seen. You could practically swim in it.
“And what about the roast?”
“I ravish, we eat, then I ravish some more, until you can no longer take it and beg for me to stop.”
Which was almost word for word what I’d heard earlier. Trepidation shivered through me, but it was quickly lost to the assault of desire as he put his plan into action.
He was a man of his word.
And in the end, I did indeed beg him to stop.
The scent of coffee stirred me from sleep. I flared my nostrils and drew in the delicious scent—one that ran through the heavy aroma of sex that still clung to the air. Hunger stirred, but it was a sluggish sensation. Which aptly described the rest of me. Deliciously so.