The Vampire's Bride (Atlantis #4)(78)

For a long while, she remained silent, the crackling fire and song of the surrounding insects the only sounds. Then she sighed. "I liked hearing you say that, even though I shouldn't. An Amazon's only purpose is the protection of her sisters, and she cannot protect them if she is weak or if a man is stronger than she is. But..."

"But?" He wanted to hear the rest. A part of him needed to hear it. He was just a man tonight, and she was just a woman. This was allowed.

When she gave no response, Layel stood to mask his disappointment. "Wait here. I will bury the body."

"I will help."

"You're still weak."

"We do this together, Layel. Remember?"

He nodded, foolishly happy with her insistence.

The task lasted an hour and they were exhausted by the time they settled back in front of the fire, sweaty, dirty and struggling to calm their breathing.

"Your strength pleases me," she finally blurted. "That is what I was going to say before."

Hearing it was as wonderful as he'd imagined. And yet..."I am not strong," he found himself saying bitterly.

She tossed a stick into the flames, watching as it burned to ash. "How so?"

He was here when he should have been anywhere else. He hadn't saved Susan, and he wouldn't have been able to save Delilah had she been chosen tonight. "Too many reasons to name."

Delilah looked over at him, studying him in the firelight. Whatever she saw amid that flickering gold she must have liked, for she reached out and traced a fingertip along the curve of his jaw, over his lips. Gentle, so gentle. "You're pale," she said.

"I'm always pale."

"More so than usual. Are you injured? More than I can see, that is?"

"I'm fine." His strength pleased her. No way in all of Hades he would admit to weakness now.

"Do you need more of my blood?"

"No," he lied, unwilling to risk taking more from her for any reason. He captured her hand and placed a soft kiss on her wrist, where her pulse suddenly leapt to erratic life. Blood was rushing through her veins, a sweet scent drifting from her skin.

His mouth watered.

"Wh-why did you do that?" she asked.

"What?"

"Kiss my hand?"

"I wanted to." Truth. "Did you not like it?"

"I liked it, more than I should, but you've never touched me willingly before."

A crime. "I have wanted to," he admitted.

The long length of her feathered lashes lowered to half-mast, shielding her vibrant gaze. "I'm supposed to stay away from you."

Unable to stop himself, he leaned toward her. He would not kiss her lips - couldn't, wouldn't succumb to this attraction so deeply, intently - but he needed his lips on her. Somewhere. He pressed softly into the line of her jaw, her chin, inhaling her sweetness. "Why?" He knew the answer, though. Tagart. Remember what I told you, the dragon had said.

A shiver moved through her. "Why what?"

"Must you stay away from me now?" Out flicked his tongue, tracing the same path his mouth had taken. Smoothness, sweetness, heat. His cock hardened painfully.

"My team," she breathed, arms wrapping tentatively around him.

They would kill her next if she was seen with him again, he realized. "We won't let them find us, then. Not tonight." She needed him as much as he needed her. That was clear with every heated breath she took. "Tomorrow...tomorrow we can act as strangers."

Her fingers glided up his back, over the ridges of his spine, then she stopped, her nails digging into his shoulders. She arched forward, meshing her breasts against his chest. He hissed in a breath.

"You will not mind?" she asked.

Now he could not recall where the conversation had left off. "Mind what?"

"Loving tonight, being strangers tomorrow."

Her words should have delighted him. That was what he wanted, what he needed to return to his cold, isolated world. It was exactly what he'd just told her had to happen. Hearing her easy acceptance and even willingness to forget his touch, however, irritated him. Caused every possessive bone in his body to roar.

"No," he said through clenched teeth. A small protest from her would have been nice. Wouldn't it? "I will not mind."

"Unlike my sisters, I've never wanted the short-term from a man." She swung her leg around and hefted herself up so that she was straddling his waist, her hot core poised directly over his straining cock. He hated their clothing. "But I can't seem to stop. You, I will have, if only for the night. So, tell me. What do you plan to do with me?"

What had she wanted then? Forever? His chest lurched, because a tiny part of him would have loved to give it to her. "First we will bathe." He would be nothing less than perfect for her. When she thought of him in the years to come, and he hoped that she did, he wanted it to be with fondness, perhaps arousal.

She nibbled on her bottom lip. "Considering what we just endured in the water, are you sure you want to go back in?"

"Oh, yes. We'll go to our waterfall."

She offered him a half smile. "And after? What will you do to me?"

He studied her. Dirt streaked her bruised face and her partially dried hair was in tangles around her arms, curling, a bit frayed. Yet she suddenly pulsed with vitality, as if the thought of being with him gave her all the energy she needed. Her lips were soft and red, her violet eyes luminous, sensual. Erotic. The sight of her always made his chest ache. He didn't like it, but he craved that ache, grateful for the reminder that he was still alive, not dead and buried.