Her fingers moved to the hem of her shirt, twisting the buttons. Did she realize what that action did to him? How it tantalized him? “What if the owner of this house comes home? What if Aden’s parents come home?”
Still wavering, so close to the edge. Fall, sweetheart. I’ll catch you. “Then we get dressed. Quickly.”
“You have an answer for everything,” she said dryly. “I might have become a Debbie Downer, but you’ve become a pain the butt. You know that, right?”
“I just realized we need to work on your perception, too, because it’s kinda skewed.”
A laugh escaped her. “Or it’s finally on target.”
“Hardly.” He loved the sound of her laugh. Husky, wine-rich. And that he had caused it, well, he felt like he was king of the world. “I’m a little slice of heaven and you know it.”
“All right. I know it.”
Smiling, Riley moved closer to her, making sure some part of them touched. Forearms, hips. Breath hitched in her throat, even as his own hissed through his teeth.
Before he could swoop in to claim a kiss, a car snaked the far corner of the road before speeding along, closing in on the house they were watching. Mary Ann noticed and stiffened. Riley did, too, zeroing in on the driver. Male, early-twenties. Not Joe Stone. The car bypassed the houses, and they both relaxed.
“I wonder where Tucker is,” she said with a tremble.
“You want to talk about him now? Seriously?”
“Safer for us, don’t you think?”
Not really. “Tucker’s probably in the process of a human sacrifice.”
“He’s not that bad.”
“You’re right. He’s worse.”
She pushed at his shoulder. At this second contact, he sizzled. She must have, too, because she didn’t withdraw her hand right away. In fact, she flattened her palms on him and spread her fingers, touching as much of his biceps as she could.
As her aura flared with all that luscious red, she licked her lips. “All right. We don’t have to talk about Tucker.” There at the end, her voice dipped, going low with need.
The heat returned, wrapping around him. “What do you want to talk about?” His own voice had lowered.
“Our secrets.”
All the encouragement he needed. He gripped her by the waist, lifted and turned her, until she was poised over him, then he set her on his lap. “Straddle me.”
She did, and he drew her closer. Not all the way but just enough. Her arms wound around his neck and back. “What about the cars—”
“I can still see out the window.” Truth. He could. When he looked. At the moment, all he could see, all he cared about, was Mary Ann. “Now kiss me. I need you so much.”
“I need you, too,” she said, leaning down and meshing their lips together.
He kissed her deep and sure, his hands sliding to her back, under her shirt, gliding up the ridges of her spine, then down, then tracing the waistband of her pants.
“You’ll tell me if…” she rasped.
If she fed. “I’ll tell you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” This time he would. He didn’t want her to doubt him, ever. “But let’s try something, okay?”
“What?” she asked, hesitant again.
“If the urge to feed pops up, or if you feel yourself drawing from me, don’t pull away from me.”
“No, I—”
“Just listen.” He cupped her jaw, gentle, so gentle. “If that happens, keep doing what you’re doing, stay calm, and just try to stop yourself from feeding.”
“Stay calm. As if that’ll be possible with your life in jeopardy.”
“I honestly think you can stop yourself, that it’s just a matter of control, but we can’t know for sure unless you try.”
She shook her head. “That’s the kind of thing I should practice on others. Not you.”
“Just do what Riley tells you, and you might like the results.”
A snort. “We’re speaking in third person now? Because Mary Ann doesn’t like it.”
“Actually, we’re getting back to our secrets.” He returned his attention to their kiss, and soon she did, too. He didn’t try anything else, even though they’d gone farther than this before, until she was breathing more heavily and moving against him as if she just couldn’t sit still.
He removed his T-shirt, then removed hers and pulled her closer, until their chests were brushing together with every inhalation. He allowed his hands to roam, exploring her. She did the same, sensitizing his skin in the most primal way. Soon he was moaning with every brush of her fingertips.
The few times he heard the hum of a car engine, he would break the kiss long enough to peer out the window, discover the driver was no one important, then dive back in.
Twice, Mary Ann froze on him, every muscle she possessed tensing. Both times occurred sometime after the cars drove past, so he knew they had nothing to do with her reaction, and he wondered if she’d felt herself trying to feed but had stopped herself in time. She must have. Not once did he experience a single flicker of cold. And that’s what happened when a drainer fed. The victim felt cold. A bone-deep cold not even a thick winter coat could warm.
“Riley,” she said, and he knew what that meant. She wanted more.
He gazed around the living room. A couch. Old, torn in several spots. Stained. No way. He wasn’t having sex with her on that couch. Not for the first time. But he wanted her so badly right now, he—
Saw movement. Across the street, in the bushes of another house. Leaves rattling, a glow of orange. The color of confidence and determination. Riley pulled from the kiss and narrowed his focal point. The orange glow was faint, as if concealed by a metaphysical scarf, but it was there all the same.
“Riley?”
“Hang on.”
A girl stood from the center of those bushes. Blonde, familiar. Witch. She held a crossbow, the tip aimed directly at Mary Ann. Riley jolted to his feet, taking Mary Ann with him even while shoving her out of the way.
He was too late. The action had been anticipated.
The witch moved with him, fluidly shifting her aim. The arrow whizzed faster than a blink. Glass shattered, and that arrow slammed into Mary Ann’s back.
She screamed, a high-pitched sound of pain and shock, her eyes flaring wide, her body jolting. She was so close to him, the tip sliced at Riley’s chest. He jerked her to the floor just as another arrow slicked through the now-open window, this one sticking in the far wall.
“What…happened?” She was panting, her words barely audible. Blood poured down her chest and back, soaking her with little crimson rivers. Her aura was blue once again, but fading, the other colors having vanished. Her energy was draining.
“The witches found us.” He never should have discounted their ability to track like the humans. And he never should have kissed Mary Ann. Deep down, he had known the dangers, the risks, but he’d allowed his need of her to persuade him.
This was on him.
He couldn’t shift and hunt the witch-bitches because he couldn’t leave Mary Ann like this. And hell! She should have been protected from mortal injury. She should have started healing already.
He’d warded her for exactly this kind of thing weeks ago. A stabbing, gunshot, arrow, it didn’t matter. She. Should. Heal. But the witch had seen her back, the ward, and had aimed accordingly, hitting her in the one spot guaranteed to prevent her from healing supernaturally: the center of the ward, disrupting the words and negating the inked spell completely.
Just then, Mary Ann was as vulnerable as any other human. Unless…
“Feed off me,” he said, even as he calculated the best escape route. He’d already walked through the place and memorized the exits, but he didn’t know if witches now surrounded the place. If they did, the moment he carried Mary Ann away, they’d start shooting again.
“No,” she croaked.
“Yes. You have to. You need to.” If she fed off him, she would be strengthened. He would be weakened, yes, but she could take the witches out in a way he could not. All at once, rather than one at a time. Besides, it was fitting. Her ability to drain was why the enemy had chosen to notch her up with holes. “Feed off me and kill them.”