Elijah was a master of deception, she remembered, pulse rising as she thought back to a mission when anyone but he might have sought shelter, safe in the knowledge that the danger had passed.
Not Elijah.
His first instinct was to set aside the fact that only minutes before, they’d been under fire, to twist his fist in her hair.Yanking her close, he turned her to face away from him.Removing whatever clothes were necessary to achieve his aim, he thrust deep with slow, deliberate strokes.
The filth that had poured from her mouth on that occasion…
Better not think of it now.
Thunderclaps had masked her cries of pleasure as his forefinger circled her clit with cruel precision.Tightening his grip, he had insisted, “Not until I tell you.”Then he held her on the brink for what felt like forever.When he finally growled, “Come now,” she had needed no encouragement.Clenching around him, bucking like a bronco, she had both given and taken some of the best sex ever.But once again, when it was over, she realized that he’d remained ice-cold throughout.
“Ms.Alexandrovna”
“Yep—” Hurrying through the door her companion had opened, she tried to stay focused, but with Elijah on her mind that was a struggle.
One she eventually lost.
Pristina: Kosovo’s largest city.Naked on the bed in their small apartment, with her wrists lashed to the headboard.A single black candle cast a flickering shadow across Elijah’s face as he spread her wide.His tongue was relentless as he held her open while she writhed and pleaded for release.When he finally rose over her, his eyes were stern, demanding complete cooperation.Braced, he entered her slowly and deliberately, making sure she felt every inch of him along the way.“Watch me,” he’d ordered, voice arctic.
He took her over the edge with deep, satisfying strokes.“Hold your legs wide,” he instructed at one point.“Concentrate—that place is your world.”
He knew how much she loved watching.How often had it been like that—no prep, no mercy, no emotion?
Could raw, animal possession ever be enough?
No.
Why had she tolerated such a cold, unfeeling man?
Because their roots were the same?
Yes.
They had been planted in the same barren patch.And she liked sex.She liked sex with Elijah.Her problem was that she loved him and doubted he could ever feel the same.He was the missing piece in a jigsaw unlikely ever to be completed.
That last night in Malta, while she was still recovering from amazing sex, he pulled out and set her down like discarded gear, then turned away to strip his weapons.
“Nearly there?—”
“What?Oh, sorry…” The wake-up call from her escort was another reminder that memories of Elijah were dangerously distracting and that being here had nothing to do with reconciling with a man as cold as he was deadly.
It was purely business.
Anna’s wide-eyed terror flashed into her mind, along with silent processions of lost souls on their journey to hell.No one else had the manpower and know-how to free them.Guilt twisted inside her at the thought of being distracted on a personal level when she needed Elijah for very different reasons now.
“Sable—”
She should have been prepared for this.Hearing his voice sucked the air from her lungs.Spinning around, she lifted her chin to face him.A sinister sight, as dark and rough as his voice, danger wrapped Elijah in lethal stillness.
“Welcome to theSeraphim.”
“Elijah.”She sounded so matter-of-fact.Well done, me!He was everything she remembered from the cathedral and more: broad-shouldered, cold-eyed, with no softness in his posture or manner.
Recovering quickly, she gestured around, “This is impressive.It’s good of you to agree to this meeting.”
“It’s a fucking miracle,” he snarled.
“Since I’m dead?”
