ever wanted anything. Would have killed for this moment with Layel, harshly and without remorse.
She was going to be with the man who'd captured her interest. Would know him as intimately as a woman could know a man, allowing him inside her body, perhaps her soul. For once she would be the prize and not the conqueror. And yet…
She wanted to cry.
He would walk away afterward without a backward glance. Once again she would be nothing more than a pleasurable encounter, easily forgotten.
She had shed tears only once in her life: the day her mother sent her away to begin training as a warrior. Her first tutor had beaten her for those tears. Since then, she had not cried. Not in pain when her body was abused beyond recognition, not in sadness when she buried several of her sisters after battle, not in shame when Vorik left her. Tears were a sign of weakness. But weakness had mattered little when Layel turned his face away to avoid her kiss. He had turned his face away exactly as her sisters turned their heads when their slaves tried to kiss them.
As if she wasn't good enough for more than a quick tumble—she'd known that.
As if she meant nothing—she'd suspected.
As if he would remain distanced from the act, while she gave everything she had to give—that, she had not expected.
The knowledge had burned hotter than dragon fire, scraped deeper than a demon's claw and slashed harsher than a vampire's teeth. He was willing to take her body, but not her mouth, even though he'd kissed her before. Why? Had the first been a mistake? No, his actions were fueled by loyalty to his mate, she suspected, and that just intensified the hurt. But she couldn't bring herself to halt what they were about to do.
Just once, she told herself. Just once, she had to know what it was like to be utterly possessed by a man. Vorik had taken her body, but he had not consumed her. She and Layel remained in the shadows, careful not to allow anyone to see them. They remained quiet, careful not to allow anyone to hear them. After an eternity, they broke through the trees and the waterfall came into view, dripping cool liquid into a decadently fragrant pool.
Her hands began to sweat, her body to tremble.
'Bathe,' he said, his tone flat. 'I will check the area to make sure we are truly alone.' He didn't give her time to respond, just released her and strode out of sight.
'Now there's another emotion to add to the ever-growing list,' she muttered. Bereavement.
With a sigh, she stripped and padded into the water. Her skin seemed to soak up every drop, drowning, muscles softening. She washed her hair with the flowers blooming at the edge and cleaned the rest of her body with the glistening white soap-sand. At least the gods weren't denying them nature's sweetness.
Scrubbed from head to toe and unsure how much time had passed, she eased up onto the bank and sat upon a smooth silver rock, knees drawn up to her chest. Where was Layel?
As if her thoughts had summoned him, he appeared beside her. She hadn't heard him, which meant he'd floated, and she hadn't smelled his scent, which meant he'd bathed with the same sand and blooms she had. He wasn't naked, though. Actually wore his pants. But they were unfastened and sat low on his lean, sinewy waist.
His hair hung in dripping chunks, white and glorious. There was a smear of blood on his lips.
'You fed.' Frowning, she pushed to her feet.
'Yes.' His gaze slowly raked over her, lingering on her breasts—nipples hard and straining—and between her legs.
'On who?' She meant to snap the words, but they emerged breathless. His eyes were so vibrant with arousal it was palpable. The nymph?
'No one. An animal.'
Her jealousy melted away, leaving only an arousal equal to his. Her stomach fluttered, her skin heated and her limbs shook. 'You could have taken mine.'
'Pretty,' he said, reaching out and rolling one nipple between his fingers.
She bit her tongue to silence a guttural moan, a plea for more. 'Why not use me? For blood, I mean?'
'You've lost enough.' His eyes never left her breasts; they were glazed, as if he were entranced. 'I need you strong.'
'Aren't you afraid I'll beat you at the next challenge?'
He chuckled, but it was a harsh sound. Strained. 'If I cannot beat you fairly, I don't deserve to be here with you.' The moment the last word left his mouth, he stiffened. Stepped backward.
He was going to leave her, she realized. Why, damn him? Because he didn't feel he deserved her now? Her eyes widened, her anger mutating into tenderness. Yes, that was exactly what he thought, but she would have none of it.
She closed all distance between them, leaving only a whisper that was conquered every time she drew in a breath. They were body to body, skin to skin. Only his erection and thighs were covered. And that wasn't good enough. She wanted to feel them, too.
As if he couldn't tolerate brushing against her with his inhalations, he stopped breathing, becoming as still as a corpse.
'Did you come here to reject me?' she asked. 'Again.'
He flinched. 'No.'
'Do something, then. Before I change my mind and leave.'
His nostrils flared. 'Don't pressure me, woman.'
Rising on her tiptoes, she pressed their lips together. His were soft, moist. His eyes never closed, only narrowed. He allowed the contact briefly before turning his head away.
'No kissing there,' he said. 'I have to keep some part of me removed from this. That is the only way I can allow it to happen.'
'You've kissed me before.'
'That was a mistake. A mistake I will not make again.'
No hurting, she told herself. 'All right. No kissing you on the mouth.' She pressed her lips to his cheek next. 'What about here?' Then his jaw. 'And here?'
Once again he began breathing. Choppily. Harshly. Sweat broke out over his skin. 'Fine. Those are fine.'
The hard tips of her nipples rubbed against his chest, creating a dizzying friction. Yes, oh, yes. Lowering, she concentrated on his neck, laving her tongue over the graceful column.
He inhaled sharply as his arms banded around her waist, clutching, the nails digging into skin.
'Take off your pants,' she commanded fiercely. 'I want you naked.'
His fingers slid to her bottom and cupped, spreading her a little to hold her up. 'Do you think to be in charge?'
'Yes.' She arched forward, grinding herself on the massive erection straining so proudly from the waist of those unwanted pants.
'No.' His grip tightened, holding her in place, keeping her still.
'But I ache,' she told him before licking one of his nipples. The hard tip abraded her tongue deliciously.
A groan of pleasure sprang from him, the sound echoing in the night. 'Lay down.'
'You first. I would—'
'Lay down, Delilah.'
His tone was hard, uncompromising. She should have bristled. She didn't. She tingled, her knees going weak. Breathless, she obeyed. He didn't move, just stared down at her.
What did he think of her?
Did he compare her to his mate?
Former mate, her mind supplied on a jealous burst. Tonight, he belonged to Delilah, only Delilah. 'Well. Do you plan to join me?'
'Spread your legs. I want to look at you, all of you.'
Cradled by moonlight and moss, she slowly…slowly…moved her thighs apart. She drew up her feet, bending her knees and anchoring her weight against her elbows. She was as vulnerable as a woman could be and surprisingly thrilled to be so.
His hot gaze raked over her thoroughly and soon those crystalline irises were glowing, practically surrounding
