Archangel's Enigma (Guild Hunter)(42)

He’d learned that lesson after the girls screamed, dropping perfectly good meat he’d spent time hunting and skinning. When he’d come back with the shiny things, they’d looked at him with huge eyes and he’d smelled fear-stink. It had angered him and confused him and so he’d gone back to Dmitri.

“I’m not going to hurt them.”

“Unfortunately, they see you as a threat now. Start with the shiny things next time and skip the meat. If you smell fear on a woman, back off and don’t return.”

Dmitri’s advice had worked. Some women liked the shiny things and they liked to be naked with him, but then he’d scared them in bed. Apparently, biting wasn’t always allowed, and pounding into a woman’s wetness wasn’t always acceptable. Those women had pushed him off and screamed that he should be “gentle” and “courteous” and not “a feral beast.” Irritated, he’d found others who didn’t mind if he pounded or bit.

Today, many women said he was a good lover. What they didn’t know was that ever since he’d realized what was and wasn’t acceptable, he no longer unleashed his full desire, even with the women who didn’t mind if he was rough: they couldn’t take it. And with Andromeda . . . he was so deeply sexually hungry that he wanted to turn around and pounce on her, do all the sexual things he’d never before permitted himself.

A splash sounded behind him, accompanied by a startled little squeak-scream.

Grinning, he turned around and went to crouch at the water’s edge.





16


“Hey!” Andromeda splashed water at him. “You’re supposed to keep your back turned.”

“I won’t look under the water,” he promised her as he got up to prowl along the edge of the pond. “Are you cold?”

Her teeth clattered as she said, “Fr-freezing. But the b-blood. Want it off. Rain wasn’t enough.”

Finding what he needed, he tore up a clump and went back to her. “Come here and I’ll wash your hair.”

Giving him a suspicious look, she nonetheless came over so that her back was braced against the edge. He knelt behind her and tapped her shoulder with a single claw. “Here. This grass will help you be clean.” The smell was sharp, lemony.

“Oh!” She looked up and smiled at him and he felt good.

Crushing the grass he still held, he retracted his claws, then unraveled her braid and used the grass like a soap. He did it quickly because she was shivering so hard her bones were almost clattering against one another. “Angels are built for cold.” For the icy places high above the earth.

“Just because we can stand it doesn’t mean we all like it,” she said, sounding grumpy.

“Go under and rinse your hair.”

Taking a deep breath, she went under and stayed under for long enough to come back up with sleek, shining hair. “I hate the cold. I hate the cold. I hate the cold.”

He looked around at the clothes she’d taken off. “Your clothes are all bloody.” And there was nowhere for him to steal her more.

“Let’s wash them. I don’t mind wearing wet clothes. The reborn stink is horrible.”

He found more of the lemony grass and mashed it up with her tunic before throwing it to her so she could wash it. He did the same with her pants and with the tiny panties that didn’t smell like reborn, but like her. Warm and musky and feminine and making him want to lick her.

“Take off your T-shirt and I’ll do that, too,” she said as she rinsed out the clothes.

Ripping it off, he handed it to her while taking her wet things and throwing them over the branches of the trees around them. Then, deciding there was no reason to keep on his pants, he began to strip them off. It was as he went to empty his pockets that he realized his phone was gone, likely having fallen out during the fight with the reborn.

His family would worry if he didn’t make contact; he’d do so at the first opportunity.

“Naasir!”

“Close your eyes.” He growled without really meaning it. “There are no threats here and I want to be clean.”

Her wings faced him as she said, “Yes, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you wait so long.”

Leaving his pants on the bank with a hunk of the grass, he dove naked into the pond. The icy temperature made him grit his teeth, but he loved being in water itself, loved the cool slide of it against his skin. Breaking the surface, he pushed back his hair and saw Andromeda’s eyes on him. He grinned and swam over to her. “You’re looking.”

“I can’t see in the dark.” She tried to frown at him, but he could smell the heat on her skin, as if her blood had rushed to it. “Where are your pants?”

“On the bank,” he said lazily, stealing some of the grass she was holding so he could scrub off the reborn stink.

“Turn around.”

When he obeyed, she rewarded him by working the crushed grass through his hair. He leaned back, a deep sound rumbling in his chest. He felt her pause, but she started again a heartbeat later, her strong, clever fingers massaging his scalp. When she moved her hands to rub the grass over his shoulders and back, he felt his already-hard cock throb.

It was a good thing she couldn’t see in the dark or she’d probably leave.

He didn’t want her to leave; he wanted to play with her.