The Darkest Whisper

Did she? Hell, yes. She might not know who she was anymore, but she did know her body hungered for this male. Could she allow it, though?

Time to find the logic. Sabin was strong, immortal and claimed he could handle anything she dished. She was strong enough to enjoy him and stay distanced. She hoped. The “marking” would keep the other warriors away from her. And it was nice to feed the Harpy what it wanted once in a while so that it, in turn, would behave.

Logic achieved.

Before she could form an answer, however, Sabin’s nostrils flared as if he could already smell her desire. “If anyone else touches you, they’ll die.”

He was willing to hurt his friends for her? Lord, just the thought melted her.

Slowly, he tugged her forward, not stopping until her nipples brushed the strength of his chest. He moaned.

“Your demon—”

“Will be kept on a tight leash, so no worries. Now. Choose.”

She didn’t have to think about it anymore. “Yes,” she said breathlessly. Gulping, she reached up, twined her arms around his neck, pressing her wet body against his. “You don’t have to worry, either. I’ll be careful with you.”

“Please don’t.” He swooped in, his mouth taking possession of hers. It was not the soft, one-sided kiss from the plane. This was consuming, raw, his tongue plunging inside, participating, deep and hard and demanding a response. She gave it to him, helpless to do otherwise. One hand tangled in the dark silk of his hair, the other kneaded his back, probably leaving marks of her own.

Don’t lose yourself completely. The warning blasted through her mind. Enjoy, but stay focused. The Harpy was purring, happy with what was happening, wanting more, more, more. But when Gwen commanded her breathing to slow, her body to still, to accept Sabin’s touch, to enjoy but nothing more, those purrs turned to growls. More, more, more.

Sabin gripped her chin and angled her head, prying her mouth open even wider, refusing to allow her to withdraw, even slightly. Their teeth banged together with the force of his next thrust. Though she groaned, he didn’t pull back. Didn’t soften. On and on the kiss continued, until she was breathless, shaking, arching into him, moaning, groaning again, ready to beg for more just like the Harpy.

For the second—third? — time she tried to distance herself, to calm her body so that she didn’t fall too deeply under his spell.

“Oh, no you don’t. Stay with me.”

“No, I—”

“Will only feel. No thinking. That’s for later.” Slowly he backed her into the tiled wall, and the coldness made her gasp. He swallowed the sound, his mouth already on her again, taking everything she had to give and demanding more. Behind them, the shower continued to rain, battering against the porcelain.

With one hand he corralled both her wrists and pinned them above her head. With the other he cupped her breast, rolling the nipple between his knuckles. Her stomach quivered, her knees weakened. She would have fallen, but he jammed his thigh between her legs, holding her up. Except, the core of her rubbed against the rough skin of his knee and that weakened her further.

“You like?”

“Yes.” No reason to lie now. She couldn’t hide her body’s reaction.

Down, down his fingers traced, swirling around her navel. Back and forth she rocked against his leg, little breathless moans escaping her lips. More. More. More! The Harpy’s cries blended with her own, until they were a single voice inside her head.

“I’m going to bite you now.”

He didn’t give her time to accept or deny, sinking his teeth into the tender cord at the base of her neck. At the same time, he removed his thigh from between her legs and replaced it with his hand. Two fingers plunged inside her, deep, so wonderfully deep.

“Sabin!”

“Gods, darling. You’re hot. Tight.”

“I’m going to…I can’t…I shouldn’t…” So close already. From just two fingers, pumping and grinding inside her.

“Let yourself go. I won’t let anything bad happen. Swear.”

What if she—what if the Harpy—damn it! Her thoughts were fragmenting, her mind focusing only on the pleasure of having those thick fingers working her.

“Come for me.” His thumb brushed her clitoris, and there was no more fighting it. She climaxed, screaming, pumping against him, then biting him back until she tasted blood.

As she spasmed, he released her hands and grabbed onto her hips, forcing them forward, ramming her into his erection. No penetration, just friction, but damn, it was good. She sank her nails into his back, digging deep, cutting.

He hissed through his teeth, repeated the action of jamming her against him, and hissed again. She loved the sound. Needed to hear it again. And again. Soon she was moving on her own, meeting him halfway, pounding against him with all of her strength, sharp teeth back in his flesh, beads of blood coating her tongue.

“That’s the way,” he praised. “Just like that. You feel so good, so damned good.” He was babbling. To remind her of where she was, who she was with? “I wasn’t going to let things go this far. Not for me. But I’m going to explode. I know it. Shouldn’t be this good. Shouldn’t—”

Then he was kissing her again, his tongue plunging, hot seed spurting onto her stomach, his body quaking and hers erupting again just from the thought of his pleasure. They clung to each other, panting, moaning.

Finally she collapsed against him, amazed that she’d lost control. Amazed that they hadn’t had sex, yet this little shower had been world-shaking. Amazed that the Harpy hadn’t turned vicious. Amazed that the Harpy only wanted more. Most of all, she was amazed that, even though she’d just experienced two intense orgasms, she, too, still wanted more.

CHAPTER 13

Sabin carried Gwen to the large bed in his room and snuggled her against him. Neither of them said a word as they watched the night sky give way to dawn through the room’s only window. They lay there, naked, intertwined, each stiff and strained and lost in their own thoughts.

“What happened to sleeping on the floor?” Gwen finally asked him, breaking the silence.

“I never actually fell asleep. Technically I didn’t break my word.”

“True.”

After that, silence enveloped them again. But again, neither slumbered.

He’d expected her to drift easily; there were bruises under her eyes, more prominent than ever, and he’d seen her yawn earlier. But once again, she surprised him. She pretended to sink into oblivion once or twice, but she never actually fell.

He knew why he couldn’t relax: his demon was crazed inside his mind, more desperate than ever to reach her, to hurt her. To make her question everything that had happened between them. Just as it had done to all the others before her. Women who had either left him or killed themselves.

I should leave before something like that happens. The moment he thought it, denial roared through him, sharp and cutting, as if it had teeth, and all the reasons he should stay popped into his head. One, Paris could come looking for him and stumble upon her, then seduce her. Promiscuity just couldn’t help himself. Two, a Hunter could escape from the dungeon, grab her and bolt. Three, she could begin to regret what they’d done in the shower and bolt on her own.

All excellent reasons. But they weren’t the reason he ended up settling more deeply into the feathered mattress. Gwen felt too soft and warm against him, smelled too delicious, like lemons, his favorite, and kept uttering wanton little sighs he yearned to swallow.