Lucien's brow once again furrowed. "That—"
"Is terrible, to think of losing my free will to a man." Except with Lucien, the thought did not carry such a stigma. "I will never be able to leave him, no matter what he does to me. If he falls in love with another, all I can do is watch him, longing for him to no avail."
The more she spoke, the more he radiated sympathy. "For a long time, my will was bound to Death's. What he wanted to do, I did, unable to stop him."
"So you know how bad it can be, yes?"
"Yes. Which is why I would never force my will upon yours. Not in something like this." He licked his lips, leaving a glistening sheen she wanted to taste. "So you have never…"
"No," she gritted out with a single shake of her head.
He was still and silent for a long while, just looking at her. She didn't know what was rolling through his mind. His expression was once more blank, unreadable.
Finally he said, "I judged you harshly and for that, I am sorrier than I can ever say. Anya…" Whatever he meant to add, he must have changed his mind. There was a pause, then, "Have you ever climaxed?" The words were croaked.
What reaction she'd expected from him, she didn't know. She only knew that wasn't it. An apology? Amazing. "Only by myself," she admitted without shame. "I'm not sure if fingers count as penetration, so I've never allowed a man below the waist."
"Do you trust me not to penetrate you?"
"I—maybe." Silly girl. Shouldn't trust him even a little.
An intense fire suddenly banked the contours of Lucien's features. "Take off your clothes for me, Anya. I won't penetrate you in any way, I swear it. But I do want to touch you. Everywhere. I have to touch you."
He disappeared before she could reply. Losing her anchor, she crashed facefirst into the mattress with a yelp. She rolled to her back, scowling. That bas—
He reappeared on top of her. And he was naked.
She sucked in a breath, waiting for him to try to shove inside her as Aias had done. There was a storm of panic, but a moment passed and he did nothing. Gradually, the storm receded and she relaxed. As she did, she realized the feel of his weight was divine, the touch of his bare skin pure temptation.
"Let me," he said.
"I—I—" Her mouth watered. To be pleasured and not fear the consequences…
"Let me have you in every way that I can without actually penetrating," he said, nuzzling her neck. "Please. I want to taste you."
Of all the men she shouldn't trust, Lucien topped the list. But gods, she wanted his mouth on her. She wanted to at last experience a climax with a man. With this man. Only this man.
Decision made, she flashed to the side of the bed. She stripped as fast as she could, Lucien's gaze burning her, then she flashed beside him. He was lying on his back now, giving her a full view of him. Scars stretched from his face all the way down to his right leg.
The overhead light shone brightly, caressing his entire length. And there was a lot to caress. Velvet skin poured over hard steel. He had no chest hair and only the slightest sprinkling on his legs. That black butterfly tattoo still mesmerized her and even seemed to pulse under her scrutiny, as if seeking her touch.
She reached out, grazing her fingertips over the edges as she'd longed to do since first seeing it. Heat seared her. Lucien must have felt it, too, because he arched into her stroke with a groan.
"I've wanted to do that for a long time," she admitted.
"And I've wanted you to do it."
Tracing the jagged black lines, she asked, "How did you get the scars?"
"I carved myself with a poisoned blade," he admitted with only the slightest hesitation, "and set myself on fire. When I healed, I did it again. And again."
Gods. The pain he must have endured…"Determined to die?"
"At first, perhaps. The woman I loved had died, and I was the one to escort her soul to the heavens."
He'd been in love? Anya hated the thought, but she liked the thought of his suffering even less. "I'm sorry for your loss."
He nodded in acknowledgment. "When I realized that I would live, I prayed for the scars to remain. Someone must have answered that prayer—who it could have been, I do not know—because they finally stopped healing."
Sounded like the kind of prayer her mother might answer, since physical imperfection defied the natural order of immortality. "Why would you pray for such a thing? I'm not complaining, I'm just curious."
"I wanted them to remain so that women would turn away from me and I would never again be in danger of falling in love. I wanted them so that I would always remember to do my job, never falter."
"I didn't turn away from you."
"No, you didn't."
"You faltered."
"Yes. I am glad."
So was she. Anya returned to her studies. His erection was huge. Thick and perfectly tipped, just like before. Mine, she thought.
"Come here," Lucien said, his voice heavy with arousal.
Last chance to resist.
Shaking, she crawled up his body, so hot, so needy. She was bare and wet and slid up his cock. Both of them sucked in a worshipful breath. Amazing! Oh, what other delicious things had she been missing?
"Closer," he said.
She leaned down. When her breasts were smashed against his hard chest, he melded their lips together in a white-hot kiss. He even rolled her over. Again she experienced a moment's panic that he meant to break his word, but he merely kissed a path to her pebbled nipples.
His hot tongue traced a circle around them, making her shiver. Then he blew a cool breath, hardening them further. Then he sucked them into his mouth, one at a time, lancing pleasure straight to her core. It was the most stimulation she'd experienced in…forever.
In minutes, she was writhing, tugging at his hair, arching her hips, needing more. "Lucien," she panted.
"I haven't pleasured a woman in a long, long time," he said, his voice broken. "Tell me if I do something wrong. Something you do not like."
"I like. I like, I swear!"
He trailed kisses down her stomach, getting closer and closer to the juncture between her thighs. "Lucien," she said again. Stop him. No, don't let him stop. More. More! No, no more. "Lucien." She squeezed her knees together.
"No penetration, not even with my tongue. I'm just going to lick you."
Oh, gods. Her legs fell open of their own accord, and there was nothing she could do to stop them. If she didn't come soon, she would die. Erupt into flames. Something, anything to end the torment.
Maybe that was the point of this encounter. Kill her with pleasure. But she couldn't make herself care.
He gripped her knees and spread them farther apart, pushing them up and making her as vulnerable as a woman could be. If he tries to sink a finger inside of you, just flash.
Leaving him might kill her, too, she decided.
Besides, she forgot her own advice the moment his tongue stroked her. The pleasure was so intense, she screamed. So startling, so real, so wondrous, she gripped his head and drew him back when he tried to pull away, most likely to ask if she enjoyed it. Nothing, in all the centuries of her existence, had ever felt so miraculous.
"More?" he asked.
"More. Please."
"You taste so good. So damned good. Can't get enough." He licked and he sucked and he tormented and he teased, and she loved it all. She arched against his face, letting him tongue her until she was sobbing with need.
She would have given Lucien anything he asked just then, but he never asked for anything more than her enjoyment. He gave and gave and gave, his mouth working her with nips and licks, and it was heaven, pure and right and so wondrous she would never be the same.