“You mean everyone thinks I’m fragile,” I countered, though the protest came out weak when his lips skimmed my hairline. My smart remarks usually had more bite. This one sounded lazy, softened by his hand splayed against my stomach.
“Fragile isn’t the word I’d use,” he said, low and certain. “But they’ll leave you alone if they think you’re sleeping. Which means…” His hand flattened just above my hip, fingers stroking idly as if reminding me exactly where I was. “…I get you to myself.”
His voice did dangerous things to me. I’d planned to walk out the door, bark a few orders, glare at a few soldiers—be thegeneral they needed. Instead, I ended up sinking back against his chest, all my plans forgotten.
“Lucky you,” I said, turning my head.
“Lucky me,” he repeated.
Then he kissed me.
It wasn’t a frantic kiss. This one was slower, steadier. Like he meant to savor, not consume.
I wrapped my arm behind his head and plunged my fingers into his hair. He groaned into the kiss, more a growl than a sound of pleasure, but it convinced me to turn in his lap and straddle him, my chest now pressed against his. I reclaimed his mouth even as stone dug into my knees, but I ignored the discomfort. This was more important.
When we finally parted, I was breathing heavier than I would have liked to admit, whereas he looked annoyingly composed.
“Hmm, totally unfair.”
“What is?” he mumbled, his eyes half-lidded.
Okay, maybe not as composed as I first thought. Admittedly, I enjoyed seeing him a little fuzzy in the eyes. There was something powerful about befuddling someone with something as simple as a kiss.
When I didn’t answer, he leaned in and kissed me again, his arm hooking around my waist to lock me against him. Our tongues tangled, and the scrape of his fangs dragged a sound out of me I refused to acknowledge. His answering chuckle, however, sent blistering heat to my cheeks.
He hadn’t fed since the night before Sable died. He could sometimes go a week without blood, but I had a feeling he would need to feed soon. As much as I wanted to donate a pint or two, it didn’t exactly fit with my schedule. When Rathiel bit me, I tended to want more. A lot more.
Oh, but the idea was tempting.
“Alright,” I murmured, totally caving. “I can give you six minutes.”
He frowned slightly. “Is that long?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Rath had only ever lived in Heaven and Hell—the concept of time didn’t mean much to him.
“Some people think that’sforever,” I teased.
He grinned a moment before his mouth found mine again. He kissed like he fought—a mix of precision and raw force that shouldn’t make sense together but somehow did. I curled a hand around his neck and tugged him down with me. He came willingly, pressing me into the slab, one hand bunched in my hair.
Our mouths came together again, and time blurred. I let myself sink into it, enjoy the feel of his lips against mine, of his tongue stroking mine. He slipped his palm beneath my tunic and palmed my waist, his fingers both tickling and exciting me, while I ran a thumb along his scarred jaw.
He eventually pulled back, a smile on his face. “You smell like Purrgy.”
“So do you,” I countered.
“Very romantic.”
“The height of it,” I deadpanned, then kissed him again, because we were both disasters, and we loved it.
Just beyond the door, a hellspawn shouted, soon followed by the sound of clanging metal. While a part of me wanted to storm out there and see what the hell was happening, I was in no rush to move. Not with Rathiel poised above me. Not when his tongue was in my mouth.
As though sensing my distraction, Rathiel kissed the spot at the corner of my mouth that he knew unravelled me. I nipped his lower lip in revenge. Two could play that game.
“Lily,” he warned, his tone darkening in a way that made me clench my thighs together.
“Rathiel,” I echoed, sliding my leg between his.
With a deep groan, he rolled, taking me with him, and sat me up so I straddled his hips, my hands splayed against his chest.
