The Darkest Night (Lords of the Underworld #1)(77)

"I know, beauty. I know."

"So you're not going to hurt them?" she insisted.

"No. I'm not."

Her palms flattened, just above his heart. "Does that mean someone else is?"

His blood heated erotically, singeing his veins. "I'll do everything in my power to make sure they aren't. All right?"

Her lips pressed into his neck and her tongue flicked over his pulse. "All right, but I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure they aren't, either."

He hated denying her anything, so he clasped her chin, forcing her to face him, and gave her what he could. "I'm sorry you had to listen to their conversations. Never again will I put you in a room where humans have been."

"It wasn't so bad this time." Her fingers curled around his wrists, soft, gentle. "And I don't hear anything when you're around, no matter who's spoken."

"I wonder why. I am not complaining - I am glad, just curious."

"Maybe the voices are afraid of you."

He almost grinned.

"Actually, I wonder why I can't hear any of your friends' past conversations. I mean, I've always been able to hear other supernatural beings."

"Maybe we operate on a higher tier of existence."

She did grin.

"Still, we will make sure I am always around you," he said, and it would be his pleasure. "That way, the voices will never bother you again." What about when you're dead? The thought caused him to stiffen. There was no one to watch her then. No one to protect her.

Sensing his anger, she frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He would not think of the coming death now. He had Ashlyn in his arms and he was going to enjoy her, savoring this small amount of time they had together. "No more talk of the women or curses."

"Well, now you've taken away most of our common ground." Her gaze lowered, fastening on his lips. She shivered. "I've traveled all over the world for the Institute, but I never dreamed I'd meet someone like you."

"Strong?"

A chuckle escaped her. "Yes."

"Handsome?"

"Of course."

"Sharp of wit and skilled with a sword?"

"Absolutely." Another chuckle. "But I mean a man... friend... guy. Oh, I don't know what to call you!"

He savored her amusement - and her earnest words. "Just call me yours. That is all I want to be."

Everything about her softened. "Tell me something about yourself." She tugged her face from his clasp and once again snuggled into his body. She didn't remove her hands from his wrists but slid them down his arms and around his neck, as if she feared letting him go, even for a second. He feared it, too. He wanted her desperately. And would have her, he swore, after they showered, all traces of blood and death removed. "Something you've never told anyone else."

He could tell her that he liked classical music rather than the hard rock his friends preferred, but that information lacked the deeply personal touch she obviously craved. And Maddox found that he wanted her to know him better than anyone else in the world.

His sense of peace - true peace - deepened. All because she was here with him. Because she had cried for him and cared for him. Because she didn't judge his past sins or revile him. Because she wanted to learn about him, too. Because only he eased her torment.

Because, when she looked at him, she didn't see Violence. He suspected she saw man. Her man. A heady thought. Drugging. Shocking. Enough to earn his eternal devotion.

"There have been a few times over the years that I wished to be human. And have a wife and - " he gulped, confessing " - children." He'd never told his friends, who would have laughed. He should laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

Violence? Near children?

Ashlyn didn't laugh, didn't scold him. "That's a beautiful dream," she said, and there was a wistful catch in her voice. "You'll make a wonderful father. Fierce and protective."

Humbled by her proclamation, though he knew he would never be given the chance to prove her words, he traced circles over each of her vertebra. "Tell me one of your secrets now."

Shivering, she drew her finger over the ridged peak of his nipple. His cock jumped in response; his blood blistered. No longer simply heating, but already an inferno. Still, he didn't kiss her, didn't roll on top of her. However much it pained his body, now was a time for talking.

"I didn't learn to read until last year," she admitted shamefully. "Until then, I had to give all of my reports verbally, rather than typing them, and everyone knew why. I just couldn't concentrate long enough to decipher the words. The voices were always there, disturbing me. When I was a kid, my boss would read stories to me, fairy tales so magical I could almost block out the whispers. That was when I became determined to learn on my own. But it took a long time to actually do so."

He didn't care if she could read or not. But she cared, and he sought to comfort her. "That you learned at all is worthy of praise."

She gifted him with a brilliant smile. "Thank you."

"I didn't learn to read until hundreds of years after my possession, and then I only did so because I didn't like others knowing something I did not. See? You are ahead of me already."