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 he was.
'More,' she demanded.
'Ask,' he said, because it went against the very nature of what she was. She might refuse, might deny him,
