her, though he wasn’t intuitive enough to recognize its disappearance. He could only trust Allie’s word.
But it was too late for what-ifs. She was wearing some shapeless white thing, and he hated it. He wanted to tear it off her, with his teeth if need be. He wanted Allie to get the hell out of there and leave them alone. He could smell Rachel’s blood through her skin.
He smiled politely. He’d spent too much time hating both of the women before him, wanting them both dead, and it was all connected to Sarah. To missing her as if a piece of himself had been cut out.
He wasn’t going to let that happen again. It was too painful, and it spilled over onto the innocent. He wasn’t going to feel that obsessive love again. He would mate with Rachel, bond with her, and that would be that. Uriel would be enraged, and they could concentrate on fighting him, not worrying about wives and mates and sex and blood.
Sex and blood. He looked at Rachel and his nostrils flared. “Why don’t you leave us, Allie?” he said in his even voice. He had worked eons to perfect the cool unconcern he usually displayed, and he wasn’t about to give it away now.
“Why?” Rachel said nervously.
But Allie merely gave her an encouraging smile and slipped out the door, closing it behind her.
For a moment he wondered if she’d make a run for it. “You can always change your mind,” he said softly.
“And have the fate of the world weighing on my shoulders? I don’t think so. If all I have to do is lie back and let you do me, then I think I can manage.”
“
“I’ve decided I don’t like the word
At that point he did smile. He couldn’t help it. She was not happy with the situation, and he couldn’t blame her. “I think we managed well enough before.”
“I mean, do you bite me before or after?”
She was nervous, which surprised him, given the sex they’d had both in her room in the Dark City and outside in the pouring rain with the Nightmen bearing down on them. It had been intense, visceral, animalistic, strong enough to shake him to his bones. He wouldn’t have thought she’d retain any shyness after that. “I thought you remembered everything from before,” he said. “You’re acting like a scared virgin, not a succubus.”
“I wasn’t a succubus!”
“You bedded down with monsters.”
“And I’m doing it again,” she shot back. “The good thing is, I don’t remember it. With luck, I’m going to forget all about you.”
“No, you’re not,” he said. “Not ever.” And he started toward her.
I HELD MY GROUND. HE probably wanted me to run, to be afraid, but I knew there was nothing to be afraid of. He wouldn’t hurt me, not deliberately. I had agreed to this, and my motives weren’t completely noble. I wanted to see if having sex with him was as devastating an experience as it had been before, before he’d betrayed me. I wanted to see if this time I could resist him. I wanted to see if I was the weak, useless creature I feared I was. I wanted … I wanted him.
He didn’t pull me into his arms, as I’d expected. I was prepared to be stiff and unyielding, but he made no attempt to touch me. He simply stood there, too tall, looming over me in his dark clothes, while I was wearing the flowing white pajamas Allie had brought me. It seemed symbolic.
He reached out and undid the first button on the front of my loose white jacket, his touch so light that I didn’t feel it, just felt the button give way. He moved to the second, again that deft touch, and cool air danced against my skin.
I swallowed. My heart was hammering, and I tried to remember tricks I had learned, ways to slow my heartbeat and my breathing, ways to calm my body. I tried to picture a cool, glassy pool. Another button gone. Imagined lying in a field of green, looking up into the blue, blue sky, watching the clouds chase each other as birds sang noisily. Another button, and I didn’t think there were many left. I wasn’t going to look down—that would make things worse. I closed my eyes, humming in my mind, some nonsense song to try to drive away the feel of the cool air against my suddenly hot skin. He reached the last button, and it was all I could do not to jump away from him.
I could think of nothing to distract me as he pushed the jacket off my shoulders, letting it slide down my arms and onto the floor, so that I was standing there in a loose tank top, the drawstring pants, and nothing more. The Fallen didn’t seem to believe in underwear, and I’d had to insist on the tank top to wear beneath the clothes, despite Allie’s arguments. He surveyed me for a long moment, tilting his head slightly as his heavy-lidded gaze washed over me.
“Try counting to one hundred in Latin,” he suggested affably, reaching for the hem of the tank top. “That might work.”
I glared at him. I’d forgotten he could occasionally read my thoughts. “Do you know how annoying that is?” I said, trying to work up a good head of steam.
“I don’t care.” Before I realized what he was doing, he’d skinned me out of the tank top and tossed it on the floor, leaving me half-naked.
Okay, he’d already seen me that way. My nipples tightened instinctively in the warm room, remembering his touch on them, his mouth on them, sucking, and I—
I wasn’t going to get aroused. Cool water, I thought, mentally letting it wash over my heated skin. He didn’t touch my breasts, when I was expecting him to, had steeled myself against it, and somehow that was even more arousing. The anticipation was making the blood pool everywhere it needed to. Blood, I reminded myself, trying to cool the heat in me. For some reason it only made me hotter.
He was going to unfasten the drawstring next, and the pants would go sliding onto the floor and I’d be naked, and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it. Not without going back on my word. I waited, impatient.
But he didn’t. Instead he picked me up, and at his touch I froze, remembering his arms supporting me against that wooden door, remembering his strength, remembering his betrayal. Wanting to cry, when despite my lack of
