The Darkest Kiss (Lords of the Underworld #2)(5)

"Pretty please, with a cherry on top of me."

His eyes flickered with fiery provocation. Not her imagination, she realized. Hope flooded her. But when several seconds ticked by and he failed to reach out for her, that hope turned to frustration. Time really was her enemy. The longer she stayed here, the greater her chance of being caught.

"Do you not find me desirable, Flowers?"

A muscle ticked below his eye. "That is not my name."

"Fine, then. Do you not find me desirable, muffin?"

The ticking spread to his jaw. "What I find you matters little."

"That doesn't really answer my question," she said, close to pouting again.

"Nor was it meant to."

Grrr! What an infuriating man. Try something else. Something blatant.

As if I haven't been blatant already.

Alrightie, then. She turned and bent down to the floor. Her skirt rode up her thighs and gave him another, better, glimpse of her blue thong and the wings stretching from the center. As she pushed to a stand, mimicking the motions of sex as she did so, she slowly circled, offering a lingering full-body shot.

He sucked in a breath, every muscle in his powerful body tense. "You smell like strawberries and cream." As he spoke, he looked like a predator about to pounce.

Please, please, please, she thought. "Bet I taste like it, too," she said, batting her lashes despite the fact that he'd made the fragrance seem like a horrendous affront.

He growled low in his throat and took a menacing step toward her. He raised his hand to - grab her? Hit her? Whoa, what was that about? - before stopping himself and fisting his fingers. Before remarking on her scent, he'd been distant but maybe-kinda-sorta interested. Now he only seemed interested in throttling her.

"You're lucky I do not strike you down here and now," he said, proving her thoughts. Still, his hand lowered to his side.

Anya ceased moving, staring up at him in openmouthed astonishment. Because she smelled like fruit, he wanted to hurt her? That was - that was supremely...disappointing. Her mind had tried to supply the word devastating, but she'd cut it off. She barely knew the man; he couldn't devastate her.

Wasn't like she'd expected him to fall at her feet, but she had expected him to respond favorably. At least a little.

Men liked women who threw themselves at them. Right? She'd observed mortals for too many years to count, and that had always seemed to be the case. Key word, chica - mortals. Lucien wasn't, and had never been, mortal.

Why doesn't he want me?

In all the days she'd watched him, he hadn't favored a single woman. Ashlyn, his friend's lover, he treated with kindness and respect. Cameo, the only female warrior in residence here, he treated with gentleness and almost parental concern. Not desire.

He didn't prefer men. His gaze didn't linger on males with hunger or any hint of softer emotion. Was he in love with a specific woman, then, and no other would do? If so, the bitch was going down!

Anya ran her tongue over her teeth, and her hands clenched at her sides. Smoke continued to billow through the building, hazy, dreamlike. The human females began to crowd the dance floor again, trying to lure the Lords back to their sides. But the warriors continued to observe Anya, waiting for the final verdict of just who and what she was.

Lucien hadn't moved an inch; it was as if his entire body were rooted in place. She should give up, walk away, cut her losses before Cronus found her. Only the weak give up. True. Determined, she raised her chin. With only a thought, she changed the song blasting through the speakers. The beat instantly slowed, softened.

Forcing her expression to follow suit, she sauntered the rest of the way to him, closing that hated distance between them. She trekked her fingers up his strong, hard chest and shivered. No touching - ha! He would learn. Anarchy was hardly an obedient lapdog.

He didn't pull away, at least.

"You're going to dance with me," she purred. "That's the only way to get rid of me." Just to taunt him further, she stood on her tiptoes and gently bit his earlobe.

There was a rumble in his throat as his arms finally wrapped around her. At first she thought he meant to push her away. Then he jerked her deeper into the curve of his body, flattening her breasts against his torso and forcing her legs to straddle his left thigh. That quickly, she was wet.

"You want to dance, then we will dance." Slowly, decadently, he swayed her side to side, their bodies staying meshed together, her core rubbing just above his knee. Spears of pleasure ignited, traveling through her bloodstream and leaving no part of her unaffected.

Gods in heaven, this was better than she'd imagined. Her eyes closed in surrender. He was big. Everywhere. His shoulders were so wide they dwarfed her; his upper body so muscled it enveloped her. And all the while, his warm exhalations caressed her cheek like an attentive lover. Trembling, she moved her hands up his back and tangled them in his dark, silky hair. Yes. More.

Slow down, girlie. Even if he wanted her the way she wanted him, she couldn't have him. Not fully. In that respect, she was as cursed as he. But she could still enjoy the moment. Oh, could she enjoy it. Finally, he was responding to her!

His nose nuzzled her jawline. "Every man in this building wants you," he said softly, yet his words were so sharp they could have cut like a knife. "Why me?"

"Just because," she said, inhaling his heady rose perfume.