Darkness Everlasting (Guardians of Eternity #3)(33)

In this moment he wasn't the skilled vampire lover who offered pleasure with a remote detachment. He was just a man who was desperate to be inside a woman who was making him frantic with desire.

"Angel. I cannot make this last." he whispered, kissing a path down her collarbone and over the swell of her breast.

Her fingers yanked at his hair, the small pain only increasing his fevered passions.

"Then don't," she commanded in a hoarse tone.

He didn't. Capturing her nipple in his mouth, he allowed his fangs to gently press into her skin even as he shifted her over his erection and slid deep into her heat.

Darcy gave a startled gasp. Her head arched back as her fingernails dug into his shoulders.

Styx paused to give her a moment to adjust.

And a moment to gather his own control.

Nothing had ever felt so good as being thrust in her body, her wet tightness squeezing him until he feared he might not last more than a stroke.

Waiting until she began to move her hips of her own will, Styx caught her slow rhythm and rocked himself ever deeper. His eyes closed as the pleasure surged through his body. The heat, the scent, the feel of her was cloaking him in a dark bliss.

"Styx ..." she whispered, her breath coining in small pants.

He sucked deeper of her blood, clutching her hips in his hands as he stroked into her over and over. There was no sound but the meeting of their flesh and her low moans of pleasure. Outside the Ravens would be keeping watch and the gargoyle was no doubt causing some sort of havoc.

In this room, however, the world had disappeared and there was nothing but this woman who was becoming far too necessary to his life.

Opening his eyes to watch Darcy moving above him, Styx quickened his pace. He could sense her hovering climax. It was near. So near.

Just for a moment he was distracted by the sheer beauty of her face caught in the throes of pleasure. The softly flushed features. The eyes darkened and half closed. The lips parted in passion. It was a sight he wanted branded into his mind for all eternity.

She gave a small scream as the orgasm overwhelmed her and the soft clenching around his erection tumbled him sharply over the edge.

The release hit him with shocking force.

With a rasping groan he lifted his hips off the bed and sank as deep within her as he could go.

"Bloody hell, angel," he gasped.

"Wow." She flopped onto his chest with a deep sigh. "Are you healed?"

Styx smiled wryly as he glanced down to where the arrow had pierced his chest. He had forgotten all about the wound.

No surprise there.

"I am as good as new," he said.

"As good as new, eh?" She propped herself on her arms to make her own diagnosis. Styx groaned as the movement made him harden inside her. She seemed unaware of the danger as she stared at his chest with obvious interest. "Good lord, there's barely a mark."

"Your blood is far more potent than most humans'," he said huskily.

She grimaced at his words. As if not pleased at being reminded she was not entirely human.

"That's quite a tattoo you've got going on there," she said, clearly determined to change the conversation.

Styx glanced down at the golden dragon with its crimson wings that was etched over his skin. He had possessed it for so many years that he rarely recalled he even carried the demon mark.

"It's not a tattoo."

Her brows arched in disbelief. "You're not going to convince me that it's a birthmark."

"No. It's the mark of CuChulainn."

She regarded him blankly. "And that would be?"

He paused. He found himself reluctant to discuss the violent trial by combat. Not out of concern for revealing secrets. But quite simply because of her innate innocence.

"The mark of a clan chief," he at last admitted. "It is given after enduring the battles of Durotriges."

She wrinkled her pretty nose. "I'm afraid to ask."

"They are an organized means of choosing our leaders. I assure you that while they are bloody and often lethal, they prevent open warfare."

She was unimpressed by his claim. Of course, she had no notion of the endless years of barbaric hostilities they had endured. Or the brutal slaughter of hapless demons caught in the fray.

Styx, however, remembered all too vividly.

It was the only reason he had agreed to be shoved into the position of the Anasso.

"Have you ever thought about just voting for a leader?"

His fingers clutched at her hips as she shifted and sent a flare of pure heat through his body.

"We are not yet that civilized, angel," he said huskily. "Besides, we have to have some fun."

There was a hint of censure in her gaze. "There are many less violent means of having fun."

"I find myself in complete agreement, angel." With a deliberate motion he rolled his hips upward, a smile touching his lips as she gave a soft gasp. "Would you like me to demonstrate?"

"I think you've done quite enough demonstrating," she warned, although her body didn't seem to agree.

In fact, she reacted with a ready passion as he slowly began to thrust at a steady pace.

"Never enough," he whispered. "I will never have enough of you, angel."

"Styx..."

Whatever she was about to say was lost as he abruptly rolled her onto her back and covered her with his body.