The Darkest Kiss (Lords of the Underworld #2)(65)

She saw him and gasped. "Naked," she said, staring at him. "Am I in...heaven?"

Should have dressed first. "Not yet." Spirits often tried to talk to him, and he rarely replied. This time, his response was automatic. "Soon. The angels are much prettier than I." He escorted her skyward just as quickly, ready to return to his own piece of heaven.

He wasn't sure how long he had taken, but he flashed back to the home in Greece and materialized. Finally, Death quieted. Anya was on her back, one hand massaging her breasts, one hand between her legs, two fingers pumping in and out.

She was moaning, pink and dewy.

Once again, Lucien was on fire, burning, burning, as he crawled on top of her, jealous that he was not the one inside her. At the first touch, he and the demon sighed in unison. This was where they belonged.

Anya's eyes popped open. She grinned sensuously. "I couldn't wait."

Lucien rolled them over, pinning himself underneath her. "I am glad. I liked the sight of you."

"Mmm, you're so strong," she praised. "So determined. Why can't I get enough of you?"

Her eyes met his for a split second, and he felt like the most beautiful man ever to walk the earth. There was so much passion and admiration in that crystalline gaze of hers.

"You amaze me," he told her, caressing her cheek. Tenderness flooded him. He'd eschewed gentler emotions for so long he didn't yet know how to handle them. But he was willing to try. For Anya.

"Just wait..." Sensuously she moved down his body. Her head bent and her lush lips opened over the rounded head of his shaft one more time. Down she pumped, again taking him all the way to the back of her throat.

This time, there was no guilt to cloud his passion. He hadn't shamed her into this; she truly desired him. And the knowledge made him dizzy, made him sizzle. He was scorched and blistered to his soul as he arched his back, seeking more of that moist heat.

"So hot," she praised. Her teeth scraped the head gently, heating him even more.

"Anya." He clawed at the covers.

One of her hands dabbled at his testicles, and the other stretched up his chest to pluck at his nipple. All the while she continued to drive her mouth up and down. Soon he was writhing, mindless of anything but the pleasure.

It was nearly more than he could bear.

Surely he, Death, would die when he came this time. Surely he -

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the slam of a door, the low baritone of a voice exclaiming at the destruction found in the living room.

Anya's heavenly mouth stopped moving. He nearly roared, nearly cursed, nearly hacked the entire bed to pieces. Where is your calm? He was panting, sweating. Aching. The demon was snapping ferociously again.

"Lucien," Anya said. She was breathless.

He struggled to control his body, his mind, drawing in shallow rasps of air as best he could. Blood screamed in his ears. Desire continued to beat hard fists through him. He needed to come. He needed to make Anya his woman, over and over again.

"Lucien," she repeated as the voice became louder.

"What the hell happened?" he heard Strider growl. Footsteps pounded.

"Defeat," he snarled. "Do not enter my bedroom. I need a moment."

"We need a moment," Anya called.

The footsteps ceased. "One minute, and I'm coming in."

Lucien tried to sit up just as cold steel clamped around his wrist. Brow puckered, he looked to the side. Frowned. Anya had locked him to the bed.

"Anya," he said. "A game?"

"No."

A pause. A muscle ticked below his eye. "Chains cannot hold me."

"These can." She hopped off the bed and rushed to the closet, jerking a shirt and pair of pants from the hangers. "Sorry, sugar, but we aren't done talking and I can't let you leave until we are."

He tugged at the chain. It rattled, but didn't break. Dread coursed through him. He tried to flash, but failed. The reason she'd gone to his room in Buda became clear. She'd gathered the chains. "Let me go. Now."

She looked at him, a flitter of sadness in her eyes. "I don't have the key."

"It is in my pants. Those," he said, motioning to the closet floor with his free hand. In his preoccupation with Anya, he'd forgotten to leave the key in Buda with the chains, so had been carrying it around.

She picked them up. "These?"

"Yes."

She dug the small metal key out and held it in her flat palm. Tiny dark clouds formed around it, a contained gust of wind seeming to swirl just above it. In a blink, the clouds disappeared and the wind died. The key was gone. She brushed her empty hands together in triumph over a job well done.

"Anya!" he shouted. "What did you do? Where is the key?"

"Lucien?" Strider called, concerned.

"Not yet," he called back.

"Don't worry," Anya said. "You aren't helpless. That little key Cronie Wonie wants, well, it's the All-Key and it can unlock anything. Even those." She pointed to the chains.

"Prove it. Unlock me. Now!"

"Sorry, sweetcakes, but you need a little Lucien-time, and I'm nice enough to give it to you."

"Anya!" He was naked and undeniably aroused. If only a raging hard-on would go away because of a little anger. He wished, but no. "We had a truce."