“And just so you know, I don’tprefer my own genderas you so succinctly put it. Males have their uses for what I, er, need.”
“What? Locking mouths in a nightclub?” she muttered beneath her breath, but he heard her. “Why are you telling me all this?” she asked, louder. “I simply wanted to correct my error.”
Who the hell knew, but he couldn’t seem to let her go just yet. “What can I say? I’m a demon. I like all things forbidden,laika.”
“Of course you do,” she shot back. “Count me off your list. And don’t call me that!”
“Why not,angel? It’s what that means in my language.” He closed the small space between them.
Hastily, she stepped back, hitting the warehouse wall behind her. She glared but didn’t run, standing her ground. He liked that about her.
“What do you want?” she practically growled.
He put one palm on the dingy surface near her head, wanting to breathe her in, to savor the moment, wishing he could taste her deliciously pursed lips. A gentle whiff of her warm floral scent crowded his senses, reminding him of sunshine and meadows—
Hades, he inhaled deeply. A dream she certainly was. Because nothing could ever happen between them. She was a Guardian, and he was…fucked up, housing a monster, and tied to Azgor for what remained of his life.
But wanting this moment, Nate lowered his head and trailed his nose along her jaw and down her neck, impressed when she allowed it, and his body hardened. “If I told you what I truly wanted,” he whispered against her luscious skin, “you’d stick your glaive in me and probably carve out my heart…” When she didn’t move or shove him away, the locked organ in his chest thumped hard. “Ah, so you do want to know, hmm?
Unable to stop himself, he pressed his lips to the rapidly beating pulse in her throat. He might plague her about the attraction between them, but for the first time, whatever this thing between them was, it made him feel alive, even knowing he was only tormenting himself.
He drew back and met her wide-eyed stare. Hell, every time he saw her, all logical thought dissipated like mist, especially the danger she was in, not only from that vermin, Derrodus, but from his own dark side.
“Yes, I want your delectable mouth and your tongue sucking mine. I want to taste every inch of you…” He trailed his finger along her breastbone, slowing between her breasts before gliding to the waist of her pants and lower. An audible gasp left her. He stopped midway along her zipper, and met her darkening eyes—
For fuck’s sake! What the hell am I doing?
She might wield her weapon like a badass and kill without hesitation, but in this seduction game, she was innocent and shouldn’t be suckered in with a bastard like him. Maybe he did possess some inkling of integrity, who the fuck knew.
“For both our sakes,laika,” he growled, frustration burning through him, “stay away from me.”
She frowned, probably at his change in demeanor, and he said the one thing guaranteed to piss her off. “Or we can fuck in this alley and get the lust out of the way. But we’d have to be quick—”
“You jerk!” She shoved him hard. “I’m not one of your club hookups. Why would I ever want someone like you?” She wheeled away on her sexy high-heeled boots and stomped off.
“Why, indeed?” He sagged against the wall, his wound hurting as if acid had settled in there from her push.
It took a moment before he could limber up his sorry-ass self and flash to the garage. He entered the workshop, locked up behind him, and made his way into the living room. All appeared quiet, and he sensed Aba upstairs, still awake.
In his room, Nate removed his coat and dropped it on the armchair, then remembered the healing meds. He pulled off his t-shirt, tossed it aside, and retrieved the potion and salve from his coat pocket. There were no directions on the bottle. Hell, he was dead either way if this wound continued deteriorating. With nothing to lose, he tipped the potion into his mouth—
Damn! The thing tasted terrible!
Nate glared at the bottle as he set it down on the nightstand, swiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then peeled away the blood-drenched dressing from his abs, revealing the open, three-inch gash…the edges had darkened. It looked worse than it did yesterday.
If he survived this, it would just be one more scar to add to his many.
He scooped up the dark green, gooey salve—the pungent smell of musty wood and herbs teasing his nose—and pasted it on his open wound. Then he got a fresh dressing from the chest of drawers and taped it over his injury.
Exhaustion felling him, he kicked off his boots and lowered to the bed, the streetlight from below casting a dim glow into his room. He flung an arm over his eyes, but thoughts of her crowded his mind again…the sensation of her skin against his lips, the feel of her toned, slender body under his hands, and his groin hardened.
Fuck! He sat up, pressing a palm on his aching cock, then he stilled, the dense atmosphere in the apartment scraping at his skin like icicles. Shit—
Nate shot to his feet, ignoring his protesting wound, and sprinted to Aba’s room, shoving the door open. His sire sat on the floor, leaning against the bed. Head lowered.
“Aba!” He flashed across and knelt at his side, a coppery odor with a tinge of sulfur crowding his nose. “What happened?”
Pain lines etched deep into his sire’s brow, his palm pressed to his belly. “I was closing the shop for the night when they came. Demons from the Dark Realm.”
