He was silent for so long that Darcy began to fear he was going to refuse to answer. Then with obvious reluctance, he forced himself to complete his confession.
“You make me feel.”
“I make you feel what?”
“Everything.”
She blinked in confusion. “I’m afraid that’s a little broad, Styx.”
He gave a low hiss, his fingers tightening on her cheek. “You make me happy, and furious, and passionate, and terrified. I am not accustomed to such sensations.”
Good, she thought with a selfish flare of satisfaction. It would be stunningly unfair if she were the only one suffering.
“And?” she prompted.
“I do not entirely like them,” he said through gritted teeth. “They are troubling.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Clearly Styx had spent a very long time either ignoring his feelings or simply managing not to have any.
A nice trick if it was possible.
“Styx, emotions aren’t something you like or dislike,” she said softly. “They just are.”
“So I am discovering,” he murmured, his eyes slowly darkening as his gaze drifted over her upturned face. “I’m also discovering that there are some emotions that I prefer far more than others.”
Darcy’s mouth was dry as her heart gave a sharp jerk. Oh lord, she knew precisely what emotions he meant. The ones that were already tightening her lower stomach and making her ache with the need to have him deep within her.
She made a soft sound. Something between a moan and a sigh. She wasn’t really sure what it meant, but whatever it was, it was enough encouragement for Styx.
His hand shifted to cradle her head as he brushed his lips lightly over her mouth.
It was a mere butterfly of a touch, but it managed to send a lightning bolt of excitement through her. Oh… lord. He was a walking, talking sexual temptation, and she was all too susceptible.
Her fingers dug into the corded muscles of his arms even as her body instinctively arched closer. She needed to feel his cool strength pressing against her, to fit her curves so tightly against him that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.
It was a need that went way beyond mere sex, she realized with a faint flutter of panic. Even when she was running from Styx, she knew that a part of her, an essential, gut-deep part of her, would always belong to him.
She didn’t know how, or when, it had happened, but there was no denying the truth of the matter.
When Styx wasn’t near, she felt as if a part of her was missing.
Sensing her ready response to his touch, Styx wrapped his arms around her and deepened his kiss. With a growing insistency, his tongue pressed between her lips, tasting her moist heat with a hunger that he didn’t bother to hide.
Her head was whirling and her heart thundering as her hands skimmed up his arms to the broad strength of his shoulders. She could feel his fierce hunger in the coiled hardness of his body and the restless movement of his hands as they traveled down her back and over the curve of her hips.
He gave a low growl as he nipped at the corner of her mouth and then trailed his tongue along the line of her jaw.
“I want you, angel,” he muttered as he buried his face in the curve of her neck.
Her entire body shook with a powerful surge of desire. It didn’t matter how many times Styx made love to her, it would never, ever be enough.
Struggling to recall why she shouldn’t just rip off his clothes and have her way with him, Darcy gave a feint shake of her head.
“Wait,” she protested in a breathless voice. “I can’t think when you are kissing me.”
He rubbed his fangs over her sensitive skin. “Then don’t think.”
Her fingers clutched at his shoulders. Sharp, tingling pleasure was racing from her neck straight to the pit of her stomach.
“ This is far from settled, Styx,” she warned.
“Shh. I can’t think when I’m kissing you, either” he commanded as his lips closed over hers.
Darcy’s eyes slid shut even as a voice in the back of her mind warned that this was not the best means of making her point with Styx.
She was a practical woman. She knew a losing battle when it was smacking her in the head.
She could make her point later.
With a low groan, Darcy parted her lips and plunged her fingers into his loose hair. The thick strands felt like silk beneath her fingers. Cool and smooth and perfect as the rest of him.
Oh, yeah. She could make her point much, much later.
Heat rippled through her as Styx tightened his grip on her hips and with fluid ease lifted her off her feet and carried her toward the vast bed.
A sense of absolute serenity settled in her heart even as her body was smoldering with a growing desire.
No matter how aggravating, annoying, arrogant, and aloof Styx might be at times, this was exactly where she belonged.
In his arms.
The sensation of slick satin brushed her back as Styx laid her gently on the bed. She expected him to follow her downward onto the mattress, but as she reluctantly lifted her gaze she discovered him standing beside the bed as he hungrily ran his gaze over her slender curves.
“You are so beautiful,” he said in a husky tone as he reached out to gently tug the towel from her body.
Darcy shivered beneath the heat of his gaze. There was a raw need etched across his lean features she had never seen before. As if they had been apart for years rather than a few hours.
Swallowing the strange lump in her throat, she lay passive as he stroked his hand down the curve of her neck with heartbreaking reverence.
“Styx?”
“So soft… so warm,” he whispered. Deliberately his hand shifted to cup the small weight of her breast. “I could drown in such sweetness.”
Darcy allowed her eyes to flutter shut as his thumb brushed over her hardened nipple. Yes, yes, yes. This was the sort of thing a woman could become addicted to.
His searching hands continued their trail of fire down her body, tracing the curve of her waist and down her hips. Her breath caught and she gave a small moan.
Magic.
Ever downward he explored her thighs, her calves, and at last, the very tips of her toes. He lingered and stroked and searched. He caressed her as if he was memorizing every inch of her.
Her fingers grasped the sheets beneath her as pleasure flowed through her body.
Even with her eyes closed, Darcy would know the touch of his hands, the scent of his body. It was branded onto her heart, and no other man would ever be capable of stirring her with such desire.
“Please,” she pleaded softly. “I need you, Styx.”
“As I need you, my angel.” There was a faint rustle as he dealt with his clothing, and then the cool, hard strength of him was stretched on the bed beside her. “As I will always need you. For all eternity.”
His voice held a soft urgency that made his words a solemn pledge, and her eyes flew open to meet the dark glitter of his gaze.
“Styx, let’s not speak of the future,” she pleaded. “I only want to be in this moment.”
He regarded her as if he wished to argue, but at last he gave a slow nod of his head.
“Then let us make this moment something to remember,” he rasped.
Without warning, his mouth was on her own with a stark passion that instantly sent a shudder of excitement racing through her.
Her arms wrapped around his neck and she returned his hunger with ready enthusiasm. His lips were cool and demanding as they drank of her response. A deep growl rumbled in his throat as his hands greedily ran over her naked body, sparking pinpricks of fire over her skin.
His tongue entered her mouth as his fangs pressed her lips. She tangled her tongue with his, her head lifting to better enjoy the taste of him. Her fierce response caught him off guard, and Darcy suddenly had the copper taste of blood in her mouth.
At first she a
ssumed he had nicked her with his fangs, but as he pulled back, she realized that it had been his own lip that had been cut. Instinctively she reached out to lick the bead of blood from his lip.
He made a startled sound of pleasure as his eyes flared with a smoldering fire.
“Yes,” he breathed, lowering his head. “Please, angel…”
Easily able to sense his need, Darcy tugged his lip into her mouth and gently sucked at the small wound. Obviously vampires enjoyed the act of donating blood as much as taking it.
Grasping her hips, he tugged her sharply against his thick arousal.
Darcy gave a small gasp at his tender assault. There was something more between them on this night. A sense that their passions were intertwined, each feeding the other until the very air was alive with desire.
Pulling back, Styx nibbled his way over her cheek and down to her chin. He waited until her head tilted instinctively backward before trailing his tongue down the pulsing vein. At the same moment he gave a gentle tug on her legs, pulling one over his hip so that his hand could slip between them.
Her nails dug into his shoulders as he teased her with a relentless expertise.
Oh… cripes. This magic was about to end way too swiftly.
“Not yet,” she whispered as he nuzzled her aching breast.
He gave a low, utterly male chuckle, and without warning she found herself flat on her back with him poised above her.
“Now, my sweet angel,” he warned her. “Most defi nitely now.”
Her eyes widened as she watched his head dip down so he could trail a path of searing kisses down her body.
More than kisses, she acknowledged as he used his fangs and tongue to send her up in flames. Even the brush of his hair was a caress as it slid over her skin.
Her fingers returned to clutching the sheets as he slowly and methodically investigated every inch of her quivering body. The pleasure was nearly overwhelming, her senses honed to a near painful edge.
“Styx,” she breathed, barely resisting the urge to grab his hair and drag him back up to cover her.
“Yes, angel?” he demanded while planting those maddening kisses over the gentle swell of her stomach.
“You said now.”
He laughed softly as he settled even more firmly between her legs and nuzzled the inner softness of her thigh.
“So I did.” His tongue stroked over her skin. “And I am always a man of my word.”
Expecting him to shift over her, Darcy was unprepared when she felt a faint pressure and then Styx’s fangs sliding deep into her thigh.
She gave a small yelp as she nearly leaped off the bed. Not in pain, or even fear. But simply in pure erotic bliss.
Nothing, nothing at all, could compare to the sensation of such an intimate vampire feeding.
With each pull her entire body tightened, spiraling higher and higher. Her heart thundered and her breath was locked in her lungs.
It was too much.
She gave a strangled moan and, as if waiting for that particular sound, Styx began moving with fluid speed. He kneeled between her spread legs, his hands shifting beneath her hips to lift her lower body off the mattress.
Darcy was briefly startled, feeling oddly vulnerable as he gazed down at her with smoldering desire. Then any coherent thought was vanquished as with one firm thrust he entered her.
Her teeth clenched as he stretched and filled her completely. She could feel him in every part of her body as if his essence was spreading through her very blood.
For a moment he held himself still, as if savoring the feel of being so deeply speared within her. Only when she was certain that she could bear no more did he slowly begin to rock his hips, pumping himself in and out of her with a steady pace.
Her legs wrapped around his waist as she welcomed him into her body, meeting each thrust with a lift of her hips.
He gave a deep groan as his head fell back and his face tightened with a sensual concentration. His hair flowed down his back and the small medallion slid over the smooth bronze of his chest.
Darcy was quite certain she had never seen anything so beautiful.
Her dark, powerful Aztec.
His pace quickened, driving him deeper and deeper into her, and Darcy closed her eyes as her lower body clenched with that sweet tension. A shimmering joy hummed through her, sharpening and focusing until at last her release exploded with a shattering force.
She cried out at the same moment that Styx gave a low shout, and with one last, delicious thrust, he buried himself deep inside her.
Chapter Seventeen
Salvatore returned to his decrepit lair and closeted himself in his cramped office.
Some might claim that he had gone in there to sulk. Never to his face, of course. But Salvatore contented himself with the thought that he was merely considering his options.
Almost absently he gazed out the darkened window as he recalled his brief encounter with Darcy.
She was a beautiful thing. There was no questioning that. And he was confident he would have no trouble bedding the woman. Which, of course, was the entire point of tracking her down.
Still, he couldn’t deny that she was not his usual type.
There was none of the dangerous fire that might lash out with lethal force. None of the raw, smoldering sensuality that enticed every male in her vicinity. None of the restless energy that marked most Weres.
She was a vegetarian, for Christ’s sake.
He gave a faint shake of his head before he plucked the crossbow from his desk. It was aimed directly at the door as it was pushed open to reveal the hulking form of Hess.
The weapon remained steadily pointed at the man’s chest as Salvatore glared toward the unwelcome intruder.
“I warned you, Hess, I’m in no mood to be bothered,” he snarled.
The cur gave a shallow bow, his gaze remaining on the lethal arrow.
“There is a car arriving, my king,” he warned.
With a frown, Salvatore glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, a long, gleaming limo pulled to a halt in front of the building. His muscles tensed. There was only one person who would dare to draw such unnecessary, gaudy attention.
The last person he desired to see at this moment.
“Damn,” he muttered, not bothering to watch the woman slide from the back of the huge car.
Returning his attention to Hess, he tossed the crossbow onto the desk and replaced it with two silver dag gers that he slipped into sheathes hidden beneath his jacket. Unlike Darcy, this woman was always eager to unleash her more feral nature.
“Take the curs to the street and don’t return until I give you word,” he commanded as he smoothed his hair from his face.
“You want us to hide?”
Salvatore smiled at the cur’s ruffled pride.
“Sophia possesses a temper even worse than my own, and she is not going to be pleased with the news I have to share. I don’t want any accidental deaths before she has an opportunity to calm down.”
“Oh.” Hess swallowed heavily. “Good thought.”
“Yes.”
Salvatore watched as the cur scurried from the room.
He could trust Hess to gather the rest of the pack and hustle them safely out of the building.
Of course, that meant he would be alone to face the queen’s wrath.
Leaning casually against the edge of the desk, he was as prepared as he was going to get when the powerful pureblood swept through the door and moved to stand directly before him.
Any other man would have fallen to his knees at the sight of her. Not only was she drop-dead gorgeous in her skintight leather pants and barely there halter top, but the air around her actually seemed to smolder with sexual invitation.
It took another Were to sense the predatory hunger that shimmered in her green eyes and her love for vio lence in the hard edge of her smile.
“Ah, Salvatore, as devastatingly gorgeous as ever,” she purred as she boldly pressed her body
against his. “Mmm… surely you have a kiss for your queen?”
Salvatore grasped her upper arms. “Not now.”
She gave a taunting laugh as her hand ran down his body to cup his cock. His teeth snapped together as she gave a teasing squeeze.
“You are such a naughty boy to keep me from sharing all this delicious goodness.”
Salvatore pushed her sharply away. He didn’t mind a predatory woman, but he did draw the line at offering his seed to a woman who shared her bed with a dozen men. All at the same time.
He was a king, not a lowly member of the pack.
He would choose his consort, and she would belong to him alone.
“Now is not the time for this,” he growled.
Sophia’s beautiful features, which looked as youthful as those of a teenager, despite the fact that she was well over three hundred years old, briefly hardened before she forced a tight smile to her lips.
“Still sulking because I refuse to give you exclusive use of my body?”
He gave a lift of his brows. “Not even exclusive use could tempt me to taste what has been shared by every Were and cur on five continents.”
With a blur of movement, Sophia reached out to backhand him. Salvatore accepted the blow with a faint smile that was designed to irritate.
“You bastard. You may be king, but you do not yet rule me,” she hissed.
That was true enough. As a pureblood who had managed to become regularly pregnant and to even whelp a full-term litter, this woman was revered among all Weres.
Until he could produce his own litter, he was forced to offer her at least a measure of respect.
“Then keep your hands off me unless you’re invited.”
She snapped her teeth at him before turning to stroll around the cramped room. A hint of disdain touched her face at the shoddy surroundings.
Not surprising.
Sophia was more the Ritz-Carlton than slumming it type.
“Where is your pack?” she at last demanded when she came to a stop.
“Patrolling the streets.”
Her lips curled. “You fear an attack here?”
Salvatore straightened from the desk. “Do I look stupid? Of course I fear an attack. The vamps would love nothing better than to exterminate us once and for all.”
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