She didn’t mind his rejection. She seemed to relish it instead, like a challenge. “You used to enjoy my hands,” she purred. “Why deprive yourself?”
Killian’s nostrils flared as he pushed away thoughts of exactlyhow muchhe’d enjoyed her hands—of how he’d nearly losthimself each time she’d grasped him, and how he’d felt so fucking lucky to be touched by her. “I don’t want you,” he said through gritted teeth..
Elyse laughed, sharp and cavalier. “Of course you do. I’ve seen how you look at me, like you’re disgusted with yourself for wishing to defile me.” She bit her lip, letting the words “defile me” hang in the air between them, like a command.
“No,” Killian managed to say. “I want the old Elyse. The one who had a soul, who cared, who…”
Who loved me, he thought, and he’d never felt smaller.
Elyse’s eyes narrowed, her lids lowering until her pale lashes nearly brushed her cheeks. She sat up straight, her gaze pinning Killian in place, and lifted a hand to her tunic. Slowly, her fingers worked at the top button until the fabric released, spilling aside to reveal delicate alabaster collarbones.
Killian’s heart pounded against his ribcage, as if it yearned to escape its prison of bones and throw itself at Elyse. She continued to unbutton her tunic, one slow movement at a time. A lump the size of his fist formed in his throat, making it impossible to breathe. All he could do was stare at her, helpless and unwilling to make her stop.
When she freed the final button, she rolled her shoulders back and let the tunic glide down her arms. It fell to the floor in a seductive whisper. Elyse sat proudly on the edge of the tub, letting Killian take in everything. And devil help him, he did.
Her chest was still covered by a thin undershirt, though it did little to hide her shape. It was tight, hugging the gentle curve of her waist and lifting her breasts ever so slightly, creating a delicate line of cleavage above the rounded neckline. The nearlytranslucent fabric blended with her skin, except for the rosy hue of her nipples, which he could see perfectly. He noted they were hard, pushing against the fabric, announcing her arousal—as if the delicious pout of her lips didn’t already do that.
Killian realized he wasn’t breathing. He exhaled through his nose, refusing to open his lips. He was afraid his mouth might betray him—either by kissing her, or asking her to kiss him. He was paralyzed, the two halves of his mind battling inside him. One screamed at him to run away, the other pleaded with him to stay and play and explore. To forget and remember, all at once.
Elyse didn’t wait for him to make up his mind. She leaned forward, but she didn’t press her lips to his. Instead, she blew out a breath along the moist skin of his neck, sending a shiver through him. She dragged her teeth down his shoulder as her left hand cupped his neck. Killian tried and failed to stifle the groan that rumbled through his throat. At the sound, Elyse gripped his neck tighter, her nails pressing into his skin. It prickled slightly, a tinge of pain, but it was nothing compared to the pain he would feel if he let things go further.
“Elyse,” he tried to protest, but the words died in his throat as she moved her lips to his jawline. Agonizingly, wonderfully, she made her way closer to his mouth. Killian cursed silently, even as inexplicable bliss filled him. Elyse’s lips teased his mouth, their skin barely touching, until Killian couldn’t take any more.
He freed his hands from the tub, water splashing at the movement, and grasped the back of Elyse’s head. Their mouths crashed together, lips tangling and tongues slipping against one another. It was effortless, their skin and lips meeting as they hadso many times, moving in a synchronized push and pull, give and take.
He broke away to look at her, finding an intensity in her eyes that he’d never seen before. A single thought consumed him: he could convince her. He could bring her back, restore her soul. He could fuck her until she remembered how much she loved him.
Distantly, he knew it was a ridiculous idea. There was nothing romantic in the way they kissed one another, their breaths sharp with lust and nothing more. That didn’t stop him from lifting a hand to squeeze her breast and delighting in the soft moan she emitted, the delicious friction of the wet fabric. It didn’t stop him from biting her bottom lip just to hear her hiss a breath. He gave a sharp tug of her hair, and she seemed to melt in his hands, a wicked, sultry smile sliding across her face.
That smile, though, wasn’t the one he wanted to see. He yearned for the demure smile, the one that seemed to slow down time. The one that made him pray for a lifetime to worship Elyse.
She leaned closer, but Killian sat still. His mind was whirring, infinite thoughts spinning. It grew louder like a rumble of thunder that filled him with dread. He exhaled and tried to piece his mind together, but the dissonant hum only seemed to intensify.
“What’s that?” Elyse breathed, sitting straight—as if she could hear the same pounding that filled Killian’s head.
With a blink, Killian realized shecouldhear it. That the clamor wasn’t in his head. It was in the streets outside. And it sounded like—
Wings.
An enormous black bird crashed through the window, glass shattering in its wake. It spread its wings as it soared in an arc around the room and headed straight for them. Its malevolent eyes were as dark as its feathers as it streamed closer.
Elyse flung her hand at the creature, and it dropped from the air. It landed in a feathery heap at the base of the tub, leaving Killian to wonder whether she had killed it or simply stunned it.
Elyse was on her feet in an instant, racing to the window. Onyx blurs rushed past, barely distinguishable from the dark of night. Killian hopped out of the tub and reached for his trousers without bothering to dry himself in a rush to meet Elyse at the window. Screams were now pouring through the shattered pane, but Killian still couldn’t make out anything aside from the winged shapes that shrouded the night, turning it into a living nightmare.
Elyse was entirely still, her fists clenched at her sides. Her eyes were narrowed, her gaze adhered to something in the distance. He couldn’t see what it was she stared at, but he knew.
Lazarus had come.
13
Elyse
He was there.
Elyse knew it the moment that murderous raven flew through the window. She had sensed something sinister in the air, rippling off its feathers. Lazarus wasn’t attacking the city. He was attacking her.
She hurried from the room, leaving her overshirt discarded on the floor. The simple fabric would do nothing to protect her from Lazarus. If he wanted her dead, he’d see it done. Her hope was that he planned to keep her alive a bit longer.
