After he left, she had apologized and sent him invitations to join her again. Just as he ignored her when she was present, so had he ignored the summons. But…sometimes she could have sworn he was hidden nearby, his gaze boring into her. Wishful thinking, for she had never caught sight of him. Trained as she was, she would have found a trace. A footprint. A strand of his hair.
Even if she hadn’t needed his blood, would she have been able to walk away from him? The answer to that was nothing new. No. To walk away was to lose all hope of winning him. I’m not just demon, vampire and related to the men who destroyed his father. I’m brainless, too. Yet another defect. As she’d thought before, there was no hope. Sometimes, though, she could fool herself.
“Very well,” Shivawn finally said, his tone stiff. He strode from the room without another word.
Frustrated with him, Alyssa turned to the formation of vampire warriors behind her, lined against the walls. “Half of you will join Valerian’s army in search of our king. The other half will return to the palace. I will report our findings in the morning.”
Used to taking orders from her when Layel was gone, they nodded and filed from the chamber. Fighting another wave of dizziness, Alyssa followed Shivawn.
* * *
DARKNESS WOULD SOON FALL AGAIN, and when it did, the first challenge would begin.
Though he’d constructed weapons yesterday, Layel had spent several hours gathering the perfect limbs for a bow and arrows. The god had finally given permission to use them and wouldn’t be taking them away. Again. Already he’d spent several more hours sharpening and honing. His hands were now raw, and his nails, which had healed soon after his encounter with the air shield, were once again coated with dried blood. He was weak from the loss of it and needed to replenish.
But he didn’t. He hadn’t.
In his foolish, hated desire for Delilah, he had abandoned his only purpose: death to all dragons. Nothing more, nothing less. The woman had occupied too many of his thoughts, tortured him with her femininity, riddled him with concern for her well-being, and nearly felled him with jealousy. Jealousy.
He would allow it no more.
She mattered not to him. Susan mattered. Always, only Susan.
I will prove it. Right now he hovered in a tree, concealed by branches and thick green foliage, looking down at Delilah’s team. His bow was cocked, his arrow ready to sail into the heart of the beast.
“…work together,” Tagart was saying. “That’s the only way to win.”
They were gathered in a circle, a fire blazing, some kind of fish anchored over the pit, roasting and filling the air with a sweet aroma. All of the creatures were listening intently, rapt gazes locked on Tagart. Except for Zane, who sat behind them, sharpening a branch with his claws just as Layel had done.
Delilah had her back to Layel, hair streaming wildly, like ribbons his fingers itched to caress. If she stood, Layel would kill her rather than the dragon. He told himself he didn’t care. That he’d spared her one too many times already. Did he listen to himself, though?
“How can you know we’ll have the chance to work together,” Delilah asked, “rather than be called one by one to represent the group? The god didn’t specify.”
Her voice shivered through him, an embrace, a temptation. His fingers squeezed the bow tightly. Relax, damn you. The wood will snap with any more pressure. Gradually his fingers loosened their grip. He still had a clear shot of Tagart, could lose it at any moment. Do it! Hurt him.
“I don’t know. Not for sure,” Tagart said. “But we have to be ready for anything. If we aren’t…”
“One of us will die,” Delilah finished for the dragon, her voice now harsh.
The warrior nodded grimly.
You are facing a dragon. You have never hesitated before. Why now? Layel’s hands remained steady despite his internal war, yet still he didn’t release the blasted arrow. He ground his teeth together, ashamed and disgusted. He had come here with a purpose. To turn away from that again was disgraceful.
“But if we win, our brethren on the losing team could die,” Delilah added miserably.
“You heard what the god said. They are testing us. Our mettle, our determination. We have to decide—who is more important? Them? Or us?”
Every muscle in Layel’s body stiffened at that. Them or us? echoed in his head. Them or us? If he killed Tagart, would he ultimately condemn Zane? A warrior he had sworn to protect? Never mind Delilah. Do not think of her, do not dare think of her.
Whatever Layel did, someone was going to die tonight.
Zane…Tagart…Delilah…He wanted the latter two gone, but he would not be able to live with himself if he unintentionally harmed the first. But if his team lost, he would most likely be eliminated. After the way they’d looked at him this morning, knowing he had considered slaying them all…
Perhaps being the first to go was for the best. Perhaps then, he could finally join Susan.
No, he nearly roared. No, no. Not yet. More than he wanted to slay the dragons on this island, he wanted to slay the dragon king. Darius. Just the name caused him to growl. Darius should have stopped his warriors from hurting Susan, should have had better control of them.
Just as I was supposed to have control over my men. He brushed the thought aside. His crime had not destroyed Susan.
Once, about six months ago, Layel had nearly succeeded in killing the dragon sovereign. But then he had seen Darius with a human lover and had remembered Susan and his only days of happiness. In a moment of weakness, Layel had walked away.
Now Darius’s woman was pregnant. Another dragon would be born. It was unacceptable. His fault.
I vowed never to walk away from a kill again, he reminded himself, eyes once more narrowing on his target.
Layel wanted so badly to join Susan. All you need do is obliterate the entire fire-breathing race. One at a time… His finger twitched, stilled. His teeth gnashed together.
An ashy breeze blustered past him, shaking the leaves. If you do this, Delilah will view you as a coward. Unworthy, dishonorable. Good. He was. His fingers tightened…tightened. The bow’s string pulled taut. Almost ready…soon. He wanted Delilah to think poorly of him. No, he corrected, he needed her to think poorly of him. Another finger twitch. Tagart shifted, Layel’s bow moving with him, maintaining the perfect shot. Straight through the man’s blackened heart, slicing it in two as he’d done to countless others.
“There’s something I must do. I’ll return shortly,” Delilah said, rising swiftly to her feet and blocking Tagart.
Layel froze. Move, woman! He’d finally convinced himself to act.
She remained in place. She was not as tall as the dragon, so Layel’s arrow would nail her right between the eyes. Sweat beaded his skin. He could try and release the arrow into Tagart’s face, catching an eye perhaps, missing the Amazon, but that wouldn’t necessarily kill or even slow the bastard.
“We aren’t done here,” Tagart snapped at Delilah. “There’s still much to discuss.”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder and laughed. “Try and stop me and see what happens. Besides, you owe me a thank-you for this.”
“A thank-you? What for? What are you going to do? Make a bed and seduce me?”
There was a shocked pause. “Something is seriously wrong with the men around here,” she muttered.
The warrior’s lips formed a thin line. Obviously he wanted to press her, but for whatever reason decided to quiet his objections. “Fine. Go. But don’t cry for our forgiveness if you’re the reason our team fails.”
“You expect failure, then?”
He sputtered. “No.”
The group’s centaur rose on all fours and approached her. Ever the mediator, the horse-man said, “Tagart makes a fine point. Now is not the time—”
“Perhaps I wasn’t clear,” Delilah interrupted. “I’m not staying here. I’m heading into the forest to think, alone. Don’t you dare follow me.” Quick as a snap, she palme
d one of her wooden daggers and twirled it in her hand. Gave it a toss, caught it. “Understand?”
No one said another word.
Waning sunlight caressing her, Delilah stalked away from them. Her hips swayed, a mating dance Layel was not the only male to notice. All of her teammates watched her, lust blooming in their expressions. Layel battled a fierce urge to fly from the tree and slash each of their throats as she headed into the woods. Finally, she disappeared from view and he relaxed.
Now. Act now. There was no better time. Nothing else mattered. Revenge would be Susan’s, rest would be his. Focus, focus. Damn him, the centaur blocked every killing shot, unintentionally protecting Tagart. Well, then, he’d just take out the centaur, too, he decided.
“I can’t believe you,” an angry female voice whispered fiercely.
Awareness slithered over his skin with all the finesse of a gorgon’s reptilian hair. Hard, biting and undeniable. His shaft swelled, the hated traitor. But he couldn’t deny that a part of him had expected her, had…hoped. Damned female.
Slowly he lowered the bow and arrow and floated from the tree, landing in front of Delilah. Her raindrop scent immediately invaded his nose, heady, erotic. Her lavender eyes flashed as if a lightning storm brewed inside of them.
“How did you know I was here?”
She arched a dark brow, and he could tell that his question offended her. As if he should expect better of her. Perhaps he should. “I smelled you.”
He traced his tongue over the tip of one fang, simply flicking it back and forth. She was that aware of him? As aware of him as he was of her? With the questions, there was an intensification of the ever-present arousal that plagued him every time she approached.
Hunger. Only hunger, he assured himself. Of their own accord, his eyes sought her neck. Once more, her pulse was hammering. Wild. Once more, his mouth watered.
She tilted her chin to the side as she studied him, her anger seeming to drain away. “You’re paler than usual. Why?”
“Return to your new friends,” he snapped, as waspish as Tagart had been. He didn’t want her noticing things about him. Especially little details, the kinds of things a lover noticed. He didn’t want her concerned for him on any level.
Her other brow joined the first in a stubborn race to her azure hairline. “I like where I am. You can walk away from me.”
He didn’t. His feet were rooted in place. This woman…drew him, held him, for reasons that had nothing to do with his thirst for blood.
There. He had admitted it without issuing an excuse. He still hated the knowledge with everything inside him, still planned to resist, but he could not deny her effect on him any longer. He wanted to be near her.
Why her, after so many years?
Why now?
“If you need blood,” she said, choosing to overlook his lack of response to her demand, “take mine.”
A more tempting offer had never been made. “Why would you offer such a thing?”
She shrugged, probably trying to appear casual, unaffected. Yet vulnerability darkened her violet irises to a deep purple-black.
“Why?”
Lush red lips pressed together in a mutinous line.
He gulped. So lush, so red, they were ripe for the plucking. “My answer is no, no matter the reason.” But the need to drink from her and only her was strong, nearly uncontrollable.
Eyes slitted, she stepped toward him. “You came to kill me, and I offered my blood. I will not tolerate hatred from you now.”
An excellent point. “I was not aiming for you,” he admitted.
“Liar.”
“Always you question the truthfulness of my claim when I’m not lying.” He could not have silenced the admission for any price.
Surprise descended over her expression, coloring her cheeks a vibrant pink. “Who then?”
“Doesn’t matter. I didn’t do it.” His self-disgust threatened to choke the life out of him.
Understanding dawned. Exactly what did she think she understood? “You should not even be here,” she said. “Spying for your team is cowardly.”
“Please. You only wish you were on the other side of the island, listening to my team strategize. Besides, I don’t need to spy to defeat you. I’ve pinned you beneath me, remember?” The moment the words escaped him, the memory of when she’d pinned him flashed in his mind. Her legs straddling him, her core so close he had only to lift his head to taste her.
She clearly remembered, too.
Her pupils dilated and that rosy color spread from her cheeks, slowly overtaking her from jaw to collarbone. As she closed more of the distance between them, she dabbed at her lips with the tip of her tongue.
“Stop,” he commanded, even as he inched toward her, as well. That tongue…
A moan escaped her, a whimper. “I can’t.”
What are you doing? Acting like the coward she had called him, he ceased moving toward his downfall and actually backpedaled—until he hit the tree.
Still Delilah advanced. “One of us could be the person to die tonight,” she said huskily.
“We will not be chosen,” he forced himself to say, even though he had thought the same only moments ago.
“You can’t know that for sure.” At last she reached him, was merely a whisper away. Her body heat radiated around him, into him, beckoning him all the closer. He’d always preferred the cold—or thought he had. This heat enthralled him, wrapping him in the inexorable threads of desire only she seemed capable of weaving.
Tiny as she was, the top of her head only hit his chin. Surprisingly her blue hair floated up with the breeze, sticking to his shirt and skin as if some part of her had to be in contact with him. He gulped, mouth going dry, blood roaring at a frantic speed.
Before he could stop them, his hands were on her waist, holding her captive. His nails were so sharp they had to be cutting into her skin, but she gave no protest. No, she leaned closer, until the hard tips of her nipples abraded his shirt. Until her legs fit between his, cradling his erection.
He couldn’t think, didn’t want to think.
“I know we are both strong and determined and we will not allow it to happen,” he said, trying—so good, so damned good—to think of anything except possessing her. Taking her. Hearing her cries of pleasure in his ears. Had he been talking about dying, or making love to her? He couldn’t say for sure.
“I wanted you,” she admitted. Her eyelids dipped to half-mast. “Before. In Atlantis. I told myself I couldn’t allow it. I told myself it would be wrong. I told myself I needed to stay away from you. But right now, I can think of only one thing I will regret if I’m killed.”
Push her away! “And what is that?” The words were broken, hoarse.
“Not knowing your kiss.” She didn’t ask his permission, didn’t even give him a chance to respond. She merely rose on her tiptoes and meshed their lips together, her tongue thrusting inside his mouth.
He moaned, the sound more animal than human. The heat…the taste…the desperation…They filled him, consumed him, slayed him. Yes, something inside him died. Or broke. Whatever it was, sensation pounded through the numbness he’d forced upon his body with the ferocity of a winter storm, covering everything in its path, spreading…spreading so quickly there was no controlling it. He was not sure he wanted to control it.
Growling, keeping Delilah locked in his arms, he charged forward. Years of denied instinct surged to the surface, demanding he seize control. Too long. He’d been without a woman too long. Hadn’t wanted one in two hundred years, and now all of his latent desires were suddenly revealing themselves, desperate, greedy.
When Delilah’s back slammed into one of the trees, she gasped. His body trapped her and his tongue plundered deeper, taking everything and demanding more. She cupped his jaw, not to stop him but to hold him and angle him for even deeper contact. Her grip was so fierce she would have snapped the bones of a lesser man. He liked it. Liked that she was as lost to the passion as h
e was.
“More,” she demanded.
“Ask,” he said, because it went against the very nature of what she was. She might refuse, might deny him, and the madness might finally end. Perhaps she would even flounce away and he could regain his senses.
Her hands moved to his head and her nails dug into his scalp, as sharp as daggers. “Please.”
He was surprised by the plea, even more surprised that he fell deeper into the passion. With a kick of her ankle, he spread her legs and meshed his erection against her, hardness to softness.
On a shuddering moan, she said, “Yes, yes. Like that. More.”
“Ask.” This time, it was a plea of his own. He was desperate to hear the entreaty in her voice.
“Please, please. Layel, please.” With every beseeching gasp, her excitement seemed to increase.
She would let him have complete control, he realized with shock. This powerful Amazon would willingly submit herself to his demands. The knowledge burned inside him as he palmed one of her breasts. He felt the stiffness of her nipple through her clothing, but that wasn’t good enough. He raked his claw over the material, ripping it in half and freeing her breasts. They were small and firm, perfectly tipped.
More…more…he needed more, felt crazy with the need. The sweet flavor of her skin was addictive, a drug. Her moans were like gateways to the heavens.
He pinched one sweet, pink nipple and rubbed his hard, aching cock between her legs. If only he could wish his clothing away. Skin to skin; he would die without it. “Hook your leg around my waist.”
The moment she obeyed, she writhed and whimpered. “Layel. Oh, gods. So good.”
As she tried to ride his cock through their clothing, his mind produced a single thought, everything else forgotten: penetrate her. Whatever he had to do to make it happen, he would do. He had to get inside her. Strip her. Throw her down…yes, yes. He tossed the tattered remains of her top aside and pushed her to the ground.
“You’re going to take me. All of me.”
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