Goddess of the Rose (Goddess Summoning #4)(76)

But what were her intentions? She'd admitted to him that she might be falling in love with him. What did that mean? Just how hard and far was she willing to fall?

"If there is nothing else you require of me, then I bid you good night, Mikado."

When he finally spoke, she realized she'd been standing there staring stupidly, speechlessly at him. She blinked her eyes, feeling a little like she was coming out of a trance.

"There is one more thing you can do for me."

Mikki climbed quickly up three of the balcony steps. He started to follow her, but she turned so he had to stop abruptly. She was almost at eye level with him, and for a moment he just stood there, enjoying the exquisite sensation of being so physically close to a woman who did not shrink from him or treat him as if he was an errant hound. Then she put her hands on his shoulders.

"What may I do for you, Mikado?" Despite the instant pain that began to radiate through his skin at her touch, he tried to speak as softly as possible, mentally cursing his inhumanly powerful chest and the voice that boomed from it, afraid that he would frighten her again. Afraid that she would stop touching him . . . or that she would not.

"This," she whispered.

She leaned forward and touched her lips to his. He could not move. It was as if her kiss had turned him back into stone. She pulled away, but only by a hand's width, so she could meet his eyes.

"Your lips are warm," she said, still whispering.

"Yours - yours are unimaginably soft." He somehow got the words free from where they had lodged in his throat.

"May I kiss you again?"

He knew she could feel his body trembling under the uncommon and bittersweet pleasure caused by the weight of her small hands. Not trusting himself to maintain control of his voice, he nodded.

This time her lips lingered. With a supreme effort of will, he pushed aside the white-hot jolt of pain and drank her in. Her scent filled his senses. Mikado was sweet rose spice and warm mortal woman, and she was touching him - kissing him - almost in his arms. It was more intoxicating than any of the magick he had at his command.

"It's better if you kiss me back," she murmured against his lips.

As he had watched so often in other men's dreams, he opened his mouth slightly and tilted his head. When her tongue flicked briefly against his, Asterius's body responded automatically. With a growl that changed to a moan, he dropped the palla so the luminous threads spilled all around them on the stairs. His hands came up and circled the gentle curve of her waist. She leaned farther forward so her full br**sts pressed against the leather of his cuirasse. He could feel the heavy heat of them, just as he could taste her. He wanted her with a lust that was as white hot as the agony that was coupled with his desire. His pulse pounded in his temples as his blood surged in streams of liquid fire through his body. There was nothing in the world except Mikado - her touch, her taste, her heat. He had to have her. Even if the pain destroyed him, he had to have her! He had to bury himself in her and pump an eternity of need into her seductive warmth. Her arms went around his shoulders, and the kiss deepened. He slid one hand up the smooth line of her back as the other dropped down to cup her irresistibly round ass and bring her closer, holding her tightly against his throbbing length.

Ah, Goddess! He'd never felt anything like the delicious pain of having her body pressed against his.

His pain-filled and lust-fogged mind didn't register her first cry. He only heard the second because she had begun to struggle to get away from him. Breathing hard, he forced himself to lift his mouth from hers. Then he smelled blood. Her blood. He stared at her lips. They looked swollen, bruised. One was cut and bleeding. Her eyes were wide and she, too, was panting for breath.

"No!" he growled. Releasing her, he staggered back a step.

She took a shaky step back, too, so her body pressed against the banister. When her back touched the marble, she winced.

"What have I done?" he rasped.

"Your claws . . ." she began, her voice sounding unnaturally shrill. "You must have scratched me."

He looked down at his hands. His claws were fully extended. His eyes shot to her. Oh, Goddess! Please no! Please don't let me have harmed her!

"Let me see your back," he said, but when he started to move toward her, she jerked back another step away from him. He stopped, as if she had driven a stake through him, impaling him into place.

"It's fine. I'm sure I'm fine."

Mikado's eyes were filled with fear - and something else. Something he was sure he recognized - loathing. He knew the look too well. He'd seen it the night the other Empousa had rejected him. Her eyes, too, had told him she feared and loathed the beast. Slowly, making no further move to touch her, he collected the spilled threads, gathering them into the palla. Then he straightened and walked down the staircase before allowing himself to look at her again. She was still standing with her back pressed to the banister, watching him with wide, stunned eyes.

"I did not mean to hurt you. I do not ask you to forgive me, because I know that is not possible, but I do ask you to try to believe that I did not want to hurt you. I would never want to hurt you." With a choked growl, he turned and fled into the night.

When he was gone, Mikki wiped a trembling hand across her mouth and winced. She felt the cut on her lip with her tongue. She hadn't even known his teeth had done that. Her knees were wobbly, and she climbed the winding staircase slowly, but she didn't go to her room. She kept walking along the length of the balcony and down the stairs that hugged the eastern side of it. Thankfully, she didn't have to call for Daphne. As she'd ordered earlier that evening, the servants had begun leaving thick towels and extra chitons and nightdresses, along with soaps and oils and jugs of wine in large baskets near the baths. They had, of course, protested that it was their duty to attend to the Empousa's needs at all hours. But Mikki had insisted. She'd known she would want the privacy to bathe without being attended to and watched - she just hadn't known she'd want it this soon.