The Vampire's Bride (Atlantis #4)(59)

His arms tightened around her, nearly crushing the breath from her lungs. She didn't complain. She liked it, felt safe. The man now holding her was not the same man who had insulted her.

"You confuse me," she said softly.

"I know. I confuse myself." His breath fanned the top of her head, and then he was resting his chin there. "I still think it would be wise to remain at a distance."

"I - " Want you to kiss me. I want you to make me forget what we were fighting about. Convince me we have a tomorrow. "You're probably right."

"Well, well, well," a voice said behind them. "Isn't this nice?"

LAYEL DIDN'T YET HAVE his desire under control when the dragon's voice invaded his thoughts. This is a good thing. Really.

Delilah stiffened in his arms.

Delilah...her blood was the nectar of the gods, surely. One sip, and he'd been transported to the heavens. One gulp, and he'd experienced more sexual ecstasy than he'd ever experienced while pumping his cock inside of a woman. Shouldn't have tasted her. He'd expected to find her ordinary, to reduce her to a meal.

He had failed.

Now he knew the truth. Now he knew that nothing compared to her. Not a rich, aged wine, not ambrosia.

Slowly he lowered his hands to his sides and turned, surprised by just how relieved he was to see the pair of dragons. Surprised the two warriors were standing together as allies when most of the races had already divided against each other, thanks to the gods' cruel game. A moment more, and he might have done something irrevocable. As if you haven't already. Something...tender, then.

Gods, this woman challenged him. Angered him, drew him. Tormented him. Cut him up and left him bare. She'd had a lover once, had welcomed the bastard inside her sweet body, and he despised the man with his entire being. Not a good time for these thoughts.

He studied his new opponents. Seeing those golden eyes roused every spark of hatred banked inside him. Better. The emotion was a constant part of him, fused to his bones and flowing through his veins. And yet, tonight he felt no urge to attack or kill. Why?

Delilah couldn't be healing the wounds inside him, he assured himself. There was nothing to heal. Some injuries caused irreparable damage, so complete there was nothing left to sew back together. She wasn't making him forget; he could never forget. Perhaps it was that odd sense of relief that held him in place and dulled his rage. The dragons had prevented him from doing something stupid.

More, Delilah had panted earlier, and he'd been very close to giving it to her. He'd been close to giving her everything. Sex, promises...forever. Was still close. Gods, she was no longer in his arms but he could still feel the softness of her body. Worse, that sickening feeling of tenderness lingered. For her.

No one had spoken a word for several seconds - minutes? - he realized. Each of them had been standing in utter silence. Layel knew why he had done so; he'd been lost in thought. Why had they?

"So nice of you to join us," he said to break the quiet, his tone smooth.

Brand and Tagart both blinked at him, as though they couldn't believe what he'd said. They didn't relax, though, clearly still expecting him to attack. Both kept their hands poised over the wooden hilts of their daggers.

"Was he hurting you?" Brand asked Delilah. Though his words were addressed to her, his eyes, narrowed and filled with menace, never left Layel.

Layel wasn't sure what he expected the Amazon to say in response - or what he wanted her to say. Part of him wanted to hear the woman whose blood now flowed through his veins praise him. Stand with him. The two of them against the world, united, two halves of the same whole.

The other part of him yearned to hear her tell them that, yes, he had hurt her. That would be easier to deal with later, when he was alone with his shame. He might be able to convince himself that he hadn't kissed her because he craved her more than he craved vengeance, that he hadn't, for that terribly beautiful moment, treated her as lovingly as he'd once treated Susan.

If only he could convince himself of that. Because, had Susan risen from the dead and been the one to interrupt them, Layel wasn't sure he would have been able to pull away from Delilah. He would not have regretted where his arms had been. Or where his mouth had been earlier.

Right then he felt divided, like two separate beings tugged in different directions. Sadly, both entities had one thing in common: they both hated him. He decided to blame the island. Not only was it dividing brother against brother, it was now splitting him in half, confusing him, causing him to war with himself.

"I'm well," Delilah finally answered the dragon. "There's no need to fret."

You are disappointed.

"There was so much screaming..."

"I am well," she insisted, cheeks blooming with bright color.

"As am I," Layel said, though he highly doubted the dragons would care.

Tagart leaned one shoulder against a tree trunk, a deceptively casual pose. "We have had this conversation before, have we not?"

Without a word or a glance, Delilah stepped away from Layel and closer to the dragons. His enemies, he reminded himself. A growl rose in his throat, but he quickly cut it off. He did not want her near them, wanted only to jerk her back against him, hold her tight, protect her. This is for the best.

"Before you ask another question," she continued flatly, "know that I do not have to explain myself to either of you."