The Vampire's Bride (Atlantis #4)(34)

"There's something I must do. I'll return shortly," Delilah said, rising swiftly to her feet and blocking Tagart.

Layel froze. Move, woman! He'd finally convinced himself to act.

She remained in place. She was not as tall as the dragon, so Layel's arrow would nail her right between the eyes. Sweat beaded his skin. He could try and release the arrow into Tagart's face, catching an eye perhaps, missing the Amazon, but that wouldn't necessarily kill or even slow the bastard.

"We aren't done here," Tagart snapped at Delilah. "There's still much to discuss."

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and laughed. "Try and stop me and see what happens. Besides, you owe me a thank-you for this."

"A thank-you? What for? What are you going to do? Make a bed and seduce me?"

There was a shocked pause. "Something is seriously wrong with the men around here," she muttered.

The warrior's lips formed a thin line. Obviously he wanted to press her, but for whatever reason decided to quiet his objections. "Fine. Go. But don't cry for our forgiveness if you're the reason our team fails."

"You expect failure, then?"

He sputtered. "No."

The group's centaur rose on all fours and approached her. Ever the mediator, the horse-man said, "Tagart makes a fine point. Now is not the time - "

"Perhaps I wasn't clear," Delilah interrupted. "I'm not staying here. I'm heading into the forest to think, alone. Don't you dare follow me." Quick as a snap, she palmed one of her wooden daggers and twirled it in her hand. Gave it a toss, caught it. "Understand?"

No one said another word.

Waning sunlight caressing her, Delilah stalked away from them. Her hips swayed, a mating dance Layel was not the only male to notice. All of her teammates watched her, lust blooming in their expressions. Layel battled a fierce urge to fly from the tree and slash each of their throats as she headed into the woods. Finally, she disappeared from view and he relaxed.

Now. Act now. There was no better time. Nothing else mattered. Revenge would be Susan's, rest would be his. Focus, focus. Damn him, the centaur blocked every killing shot, unintentionally protecting Tagart. Well, then, he'd just take out the centaur, too, he decided.

"I can't believe you," an angry female voice whispered fiercely.

Awareness slithered over his skin with all the finesse of a gorgon's reptilian hair. Hard, biting and undeniable. His shaft swelled, the hated traitor. But he couldn't deny that a part of him had expected her, had...hoped. Damned female.

Slowly he lowered the bow and arrow and floated from the tree, landing in front of Delilah. Her raindrop scent immediately invaded his nose, heady, erotic. Her lavender eyes flashed as if a lightning storm brewed inside of them.

"How did you know I was here?"

She arched a dark brow, and he could tell that his question offended her. As if he should expect better of her. Perhaps he should. "I smelled you."

He traced his tongue over the tip of one fang, simply flicking it back and forth. She was that aware of him? As aware of him as he was of her? With the questions, there was an intensification of the ever-present arousal that plagued him every time she approached.

Hunger. Only hunger, he assured himself. Of their own accord, his eyes sought her neck. Once more, her pulse was hammering. Wild. Once more, his mouth watered.

She tilted her chin to the side as she studied him, her anger seeming to drain away. "You're paler than usual. Why?"

"Return to your new friends," he snapped, as waspish as Tagart had been. He didn't want her noticing things about him. Especially little details, the kinds of things a lover noticed. He didn't want her concerned for him on any level.

Her other brow joined the first in a stubborn race to her azure hairline. "I like where I am. You can walk away from me."

He didn't. His feet were rooted in place. This woman...drew him, held him, for reasons that had nothing to do with his thirst for blood.

There. He had admitted it without issuing an excuse. He still hated the knowledge with everything inside him, still planned to resist, but he could not deny her effect on him any longer. He wanted to be near her.

Why her, after so many years?

Why now?

"If you need blood," she said, choosing to overlook his lack of response to her demand, "take mine."

A more tempting offer had never been made. "Why would you offer such a thing?"

She shrugged, probably trying to appear casual, unaffected. Yet vulnerability darkened her violet irises to a deep purple-black.

"Why?"

Lush red lips pressed together in a mutinous line.

He gulped. So lush, so red, they were ripe for the plucking. "My answer is no, no matter the reason." But the need to drink from her and only her was strong, nearly uncontrollable.

Eyes slitted, she stepped toward him. "You came to kill me, and I offered my blood. I will not tolerate hatred from you now."

An excellent point. "I was not aiming for you," he admitted.

"Liar."

"Always you question the truthfulness of my claim when I'm not lying." He could not have silenced the admission for any price.

Surprise descended over her expression, coloring her cheeks a vibrant pink. "Who then?"