The Darkest Kiss (Lords of the Underworld #2)(73)

"We need to borrow some stuff," Anya called, grabbing his attention. "That's why we're here. Not that I don't love to visit, of course."

"I'm amazed you didn't just steal everything you needed."

"I would have," she said, pointing her thumb in Lucien's direction, "but the big guy frowns on theft for some reason."

"I do not. Not anymore," Lucien said. "You need it."

"He'll have to get used to it if he's going to hang with you. Later." William turned to the stairs and bounded up, two steps at a time.

"Oh, Willie. Side note here," she called, halting him. "I'm kinda being hunted by the gods and - " for Lucien's benefit, she paused for dramatic effect " - the demon of Death. By coming here, I might have brought war and chaos to your doorstep. You okay with that?"

"Totally. What's a visit from Anya without a little chaos?" He wound his arms around the women and patted their asses. "We'll talk more in the morning, 'kay?"

The women giggled. Ugh. Giggling. That disgusted Anya. She might talk like a sorority girl, but she would never lower herself to giggling like one. And then the trio disappeared around the corner, and she forgot all about them.

"Well, you heard the man," she said, turning to Lucien.

"We get to make ourselves at home. Let's start grabbing what we need."

Lucien crowded her with his big body, closing all distance between them and pushing her against the wall. He was glaring at her so intensely that she lost her air of forced ease. "What?"

"The only thing we're going to do is finish what we started."

HE WAS GOING TO MARK HER.

The moment Lucien had seen William the Handsome put his hands on Anya, an all-consuming need had rushed through him: mark her so that every man who looked at her knew she belonged to someone else.

The need was stronger than his rage had ever been. The need was more potent than even his desire to have this woman in his bed. Everything inside him, even the demon, screamed mine.

A word she, too, had used to describe him. Had they been alone when she'd said it, he would have thrown her onto the nearest bed and demanded she repeat the word over and over again.

Nothing like this had ever happened to him. Not even with Mariah had he acted this volatile. He'd loved her, but his emotions toward her had been peaceful. Tender. What he felt for Anya was tender, yes, but it was also as uncontrollable as a midnight tempest.

Yet as wild as Lucien felt, his demon had never been calmer. Somehow, Anya had soothed the beast. Hearing her voice, smelling her sweetness...even now Death purred for her.

"F-finish?" she gasped. She flattened her palms against his chest. Not pushing, but not welcoming, either. Her eyes were wide, heated. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." Overhead he could hear those two females giggling. Could hear William uttering a mock growl. "You left me hard, and now you're going to take care of it."

Her eyes widened farther, black lashes so long they cast those pretty shadows on her cheeks. "But I thought we weren't going there anymore. I told you I didn't want you. And I thought you didn't want me because I...because I...you know." She looked away from him, over his shoulder. "Was sorry for you and all."

"You thought wrong." He wouldn't penetrate her - he couldn't take her freedom, no matter how angry he was with her - but he was going to have her in every other way. "We can do it here, or we can do it in my chambers in Budapest. The choice is yours."

"But...but..." Still she struggled. "What brought this on? William?"

"Choose," he barked. He slapped his hands on the wall behind her, beside her temples, the vibrations knocking the two portraits above her together.

She shivered and licked her lips.

He got in her face, placing them nose to nose. Their breath mingled, and he drew hers into his lungs. She still smelled of strawberries and cream, though he hadn't seen her with a lollipop. Her gaze snapped back to his, blazing with heat.

"Lucien."

She hadn't called him sweetcakes or angel or even the newest, Lucy. That was a step in the right direction. He suspected she picked a foolish endearment for everyone she wanted kept at a distance.

There would be no distance between them. Not anymore.

"Choose, Anya." If she didn't want him, she would simply have flashed away. Besides, there was lust and excitement in her expression, and they fueled both emotions in him. "I do not care what your reasons are for wanting me. I don't care that I should not want you."

She gulped. "But...but...we shouldn't do this."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Not good enough. We are going to do this. Choose."

"But I don't want to?"

He knew she'd meant the words as a statement of fact, yet they had not emerged as such. "Why?" he asked again.

Biting her lips now, she lowered her gaze to his mouth. His cock twitched in reaction. He could deduce what she was imagining. Another stroke of his tongue on her clitoris and a gentle tug from his teeth.

"Bad things will happen if we do," she whispered.

"Like what?" The only bad thing he could think of was going another day without having this woman naked and under him.