He knew he should be the stronger one.
For her, if not for himself and his future with the Order.
But tonight, he wanted this to be about her. About giving her comfort and pleasure. He wanted to give her whatever she needed to get through an awful night and the ugliness that had gotten too close to her.
He had come here tonight wanting to give her everything.
What she seemed to want most right now was the one thing he wanted too. Selfishly. Undeniably.
“Come here,” he said, his voice gravel in his throat. He took her beautiful face in his hands and kissed her again, unable to resist. Unable to deny her anything.
And when her mouth pulled away from his to drift down toward his neck, all he could manage was a strangled growl as her lips settled over his carotid and the sharp points of her fangs sank into his skin.
His body arced violently, a raw curse tearing from his lips. The heat of her mouth at his vein, her tongue lapping hungrily at him, was the most erotic pleasure he’d ever known. His cock responded instantly, jolting back to life inside her. He moved beneath her, unable to keep his hips from thrusting in time with the greedy suction of her drinking.
She moaned against him, her spine undulating. Her sex gripped him like a fist. She slammed down hard on him, his blood fueling an even wilder sexual thirst in both of them now. One that demanded to be sated.
Devony’s arousal hammered through him via their fledgling blood bond, more vivid than ever.
Her love poured into him too. Bright and fierce and powerful.
Her trust in him burned.
As much as he wanted a life with her, it wasn’t his to promise. Not when the Order owned his future and Opus Nostrum still had a stranglehold on his present. If his enemies ever learned how great a weakness Devony could be for him, he had no doubt they would use that knowledge against him. And if anything should happen to her because of him. . . .
Guilt stabbed him at the thought.
Ah, Christ. This was a mistake.
“Enough,” he uttered. When she didn’t immediately stop, he ground out a tight curse. “Enough.”
Her tongue swept over the punctures she’d made, sealing them closed. “Rafe, did I—” She took a hesitant breath, still nuzzled beneath his chin. “I’m sorry . . .”
He snarled at the sound of her uncertain apology. “No,” he said, stroking her hair. “Shit. It’s not . . . it’s nothing you did wrong. Don’t think that.”
“Then why do I feel like it is?” She pulled back and stared at him, confusion and pain swimming in her molten eyes.
He could hardly hold her wounded gaze. “Fuck.”
Some pitiful part of him wanted nothing more than to get out of the tub and make his escape before he hurt her any more. But desire still beat through her veins, hot and uncontained. He couldn’t heap more rejection on top of the regret he’d already caused them both.
She didn’t resist when he drew her close and covered her mouth with his.
The blood bond had its tethers wrapped around them both.
Rafe kissed her slowly, deeply. Her need coiled quickly, out of her control. The anguished sound she made nearly killed him. On a harsh curse, he flipped her over and onto her knees in the water and thrust into her from behind.
He couldn’t look into her eyes while his remorse had him clenched in cold talons.
But he could give her pleasure.
She rocked against him, overcome by the intensity of their bond. That was the irony of it right now. No matter how unworthy he knew himself to be, their connection couldn’t be denied.
When Devony let go a scream and convulsed with the explosion of a ferocious orgasm a few moments later, he collected her against him and followed her right into that fire.
CHAPTER 22
He felt like the worst sort of coward leaving Devony in the guestroom with a head full of doubts and a heart full of hurt.
