Dark Desires After Dusk (Immortals After Dark #6)(47)

“You pinned me. The disloyal virgin. Playing fast and loose.”

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because I’m enjoying my first time ever being tipsy.”

“That’s what this is about,” he said, relaxing somewhat. “When you sober up, you’re going to be pissed at me.”

She pinched her forehead and muttered, “Now I fully comprehend the term buzz kill. I never did before.”

“You’re calling me a—oh, now I’ve heard it all! The schoolmarm’s calling the demon a buzz kill.”

“Schoolmarm? Ha! You just dated yourself again!”

Cade felt compelled to do something to shake Holly up. He could stand anything but this indifference.

He parked the car on the side of the road, then reached for her, cupping her face and drawing her to him. But she shoved at him. Hard.

Valkyrie strength—definitely growing.

“Don’t you dare,” she bit out, her eyes flashing silver. “If I wanted to taste Imatra’s lips, then I would have kissed her myself.”

“Fine.” He drew back. “I don’t give a shite if you believe me or not.” Shoving the car into gear, he sped off once more . . . .

After an hour of silence, she murmured, “Slow down.”

“No. We’ve got time to make up.”

“Cadeon, slow down. I don’t feel s’good.”

“How many bloody shots did you have? Two? Three?”

She gave a shaky laugh. “Bit higher.”

“Did they tell you it takes a while to hit?”

“They did, indeed.”

“Holly, how many?”

“I can say . . . with absolute certainty that the number was an integer, a multiple of three, and greater than or equal to nine—” Her head slumped forward.

*

It had taken Cade two uneasy hours to find even a somewhat decent hotel to stay in. Holly had been passed out, curled on her side in the seat, the entire time.

Just as he was carrying her to their new room, she blinked open her eyes, staring up at him.

So pretty. His anger had already ebbed, and now that mere look of hers made his heart punch his chest. He sighed. “Baby, after nine shots, you’re going to be completely legless—”

She gave a moan. “I’m going to . . . lose my legs?”

He couldn’t help but grin at her woeful tone. “You’re going to be drunk, blotto.”

When he set her on the bed, she lay back, but immediately cried, “Oh, God, it’s spinning!”

He hurriedly dragged her leg to the side so she could touch her toe to the carpet. “Better?”

After a few moments, she murmured, “Better.”

“Ah, the things I could teach you. Now I’m going to undress you for bed.”

“I can do it,” she slurred, appearing to reach for the top button of her sweater, instead shoving her knuckle in her eye. “Yow! That hurt.”

“Let me do it—I won’t look.”

In a solemn tone, she said, “Yes, you will.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He peeled off her sweater. “But it’s nothing I haven’t seen before . . . .”

Oh, but it was, he realized by the time he’d gotten her down to her stockings and her black lacy underwear. He’d never seen anything like this in all his life. He exhaled a stunned breath, muttering, “Ah, gods, halfling, I could come just looking at you.”

“Hmm? What’d you say?”

She was exquisite in her silky lingerie and thigh-highs. All that swimming had done her body so damned right.

Her arms and legs were toned, but she’d retained her softness. Her hips flared from her tiny waist. Creamy breasts spilled over that wicked half-cup bra.

She had a sexpot figure and would for the rest of her immortal life; he wanted to howl with pleasure just to be gaping at it. He reached for her breasts, his hands itching to knead them—

“Didya say something, Cadeon?” she asked softly.

He drew back his hands, making white-knuckled fists. Once more, he reached for her, again drawing back. He paced, struggling to blunt his hunger. His fantasy woman was laid out in the bed like an offering in silk—and he couldn’t touch her.

Then he narrowed his eyes. If he wasn’t going to take advantage of her, he’d at least get some answers. “Yeah, pet. Got a question for you . . . .”





21





Good morning, sunshine!” Cadeon boomed by her ear.

Holly shot up, immediately clutching her head with a groan.

“Or good evening, rather,” he said. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but we’re on a schedule, you understand. And some of us like to keep a regimented schedule.”

“Oh, God. I’m in hell.”

“I’ve got the night all planned out. You’re going to shower because you smell like a cask of hundred-proof, and then we’re going to train. Once on the road, you’re going to look up our destination. If you’re not too hung over. Here, drink this.” He opened a bottle of Gatorade, obviously giving care not to touch the rim.

She squinted at the bottle, then at her hands, which were both reaching for the drink. Soon she was chugging it down.