Lords of the Underworld Bundle (91 page)

He didn't blame her, wouldn't take them from her. He was surprisingly…aroused by the thought of this woman being armed.
Idiot.
She probably wanted his blood spilled all over the floor, pooling between the stones.

He shivered at the thought. She would have to stab him to spill his blood, and gods knew how good that would feel.
If she wanted you dead, she could have cut off your head last night.

“Why didn't you run from me while you had the chance?” he asked.

She slapped a hand over her forehead and fell against the pillows. “I don't know. I'm a moron.”

“Why didn't you hurt me?”

“Again, I don't know. Okay? You're the goddamn enemy. I should be able to cut your throat, no problem. I've trained for it, you know?”

He blinked. “For cutting my throat?”

“Yes. I've taken classes. Not just self-defense, but classes that teach you how to take down your enemy and get away with it.” She brushed a piece of lint from her leg. “I will
never
be helpless again.”

I helped destroy her innocence, and I didn't even have to touch her.
Shameful.

Reyes leaned his shoulder against the closet's frame. “Do not be too upset with yourself. Perhaps you could not bring yourself to hurt an unconscious man. That is an honorable thing.”

“Yes, but you aren't a man.”

No, he wasn't. He was a demon, and the reminder stung. Enough to prompt the next words to tumble out of his mouth. “I am awake. Try now.”

“Fuck you,” she snapped.

“Try.”

“Go to hell.”

“Try, Danika. Prove to yourself that you can take me down.”

Her gaze shot to him, twin laser beams that cut past skin and bone. “So you have a chance to hurt me? No, thank you.”

“I will not move. You have my word.”

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Do you
want
me to hurt you?”

She sounded incredulous, yet he realized that's exactly what he'd been pushing her toward. He wanted her to jump from the bed and attack him. He wanted her nails deep in his skin, her teeth deep in his neck again. He wanted pain. From her. Only her.

He wanted pleasure, the only way he could get it. Even though he knew better. Her innocence was already gone. What harm could there be in taking things a little further?

“If you will not attack me, kiss me,” he said. He was trembling now, his need too strong to be denied. If he couldn't have the pain he craved, he would take something else. Her taste. He doubted it would sate him, but he didn't care.

She gasped, and he wasn't sure whether it was in horror…or anticipation. Then he saw her nipples harden, and he knew. Anticipation.

His chest felt as if steel bars were pressing down on it. “Kiss me,” he said, and the words were so low, so quiet and needy,
he
could barely hear them.

“Go to hell,” she repeated, staring at his lips. This time, however, there was no heat in her voice. Only husky desire.

“If you will not come to me, perhaps I will come to you.”

She didn't offer a protest. Goose bumps broke out over her delectable skin, her breaths shallow and the pulse in her neck fluttering wildly. And yet he suspected deep down that if he kissed her, she would hate him. Hate him more than she already did. She didn't want to want him, would be ashamed for giving in to her captor, one of the men responsible for her family's current predicament.

Still, he found himself stepping toward her.

She jerked upright, panic in her eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

To gain his bearings, he paused in the center of the room. His chest had started aching again, Pain soaking it up, savoring every pang. “I have to know.”

“What? What do you have to know?”

“What you taste like.” Another step.

“What happens when you know?” she rasped.

“I stop wondering. Stop dreaming of you every night, thinking of you every minute of every day.” Another step closer. “I think you wonder, too. I think you dream of me and wonder. You hate yourself for it. You hate me for it, but you cannot stop.”

She was shaking her head, sunny hair flirting with her shoulders, caressing her elegant neck. He wanted to be the one to touch her, tickle her. He wanted to give her pleasure, even if he could feel none himself.

Finally he admitted the truth. She
was
different from the other women he'd known. While they had been living beings, they hadn't been fully alive. Danika was. She was the epitome of life and vitality. Perhaps, for one blessed moment, he could soak up that life force and find pleasure in a pleasurable act. Perhaps she could gift him with release—without pain, without suffering and agony. Just once.

“I don't want you,” she choked out.

“Liar.” If he didn't do this, he would be haunted by what-ifs for the rest of eternity.

Two more steps and he was at the side of the mattress. She didn't scoot away. She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. Her little white teeth nibbled once more on her bottom lip.

“As I said before, you could have left this house, this room, but you didn't.”

“A moment of insanity.” Her eyes darted over his face. What she searched for, he didn't know.

“Many moments. I slept for hours.”

“So? That doesn't mean I want to kiss you. That doesn't mean I want your hands all over me, skin on skin.”

Sweet heaven.
“What does it mean, then?”

Her lush lips parted and her tongue swiped over them, leaving a sheen of moisture.

“Nothing to say?” Slowly, slowly, he leaned down.

Slowly, slowly she stretched out, lying down, putting more and more distance between their mouths. When her back hit the mattress, she had nowhere else to go. But she didn't turn away, didn't push at him.

Finally he was only a whisper away. He braced his palms at her sides. Strands of her hair caressed his skin like live wires against a switchboard. Gods, the agony. The agony of being so close physically and knowing a kiss was all they could share….

More,
his demon begged.
Please, more.

Reyes was as hard as a rock, every nerve ending alive. “What does it mean?” he insisted.

“You talk too much.” Danika glared up at him, eyes as harsh as her tone. Demanding.
Wanting.
“Do it. Get it over with. End it.”

He wished it were that simple. Do it, never think of it again. Never want it again. Never want her. Perhaps even forget her, so that if Aeron ever claimed her, Reyes would not care. Would not wish for death himself.

“What are you thinking about?” Danika asked, softly now.

Gods, she was lovely. Even piqued, she radiated such beauty it hurt to gaze upon her. Her lashes were long and thick, and there was a single freckle beside her right eyebrow.

“Did you—did you change your mind about the kiss?”

“No.” How could he, when he craved it more than a tomorrow? “You may not give me another chance. I want to savor every moment of this.”

“If we're going to be fools, we need to get it over with. Savor later.” Obviously tired of waiting for him, she latched on to his cheeks and tugged him all the way down. He fell on top of her, and her breath burst out on a gasp. He inhaled deeply, taking every molecule inside his lungs, branding himself with her essence.

“This means nothing,” she said.

“Less than nothing,” he lied.

“I'll hate myself later.”

“I hate myself now.” She opened her mouth to reply, but he swooped in and swallowed the words.

D
EAR
G
OD
.
How have I lived without this?

Danika tangled her fingers in Reyes's silky hair and held tight, her nails scoring his scalp. His tongue was hot, spiced with passionate man. His body was hard on top of hers.

For some reason, he pressed his palms flat against the bed and lifted so that only their mouths connected. No. No, no, no. She wanted to feel his weight, his heat, his strength and his hardness.

She shouldn't. Nothing should matter but her family, her freedom. Yet from the moment she'd seen Reyes lying unconscious, near death, she'd been unable to think about anything but him.
Wrong, so wrong.
Except how could this be wrong when she felt comforted for the first time in months? How could this be wrong when she felt truly alive?

Just a little longer,
she thought. Once the curiosity abated, once she knew beyond any doubt this man's taste—oh, God, his taste—didn't affect her more than any other man's, she could push him away.

Later she would act like the smart woman her wonderful mother had raised. She would act responsible, would find a way to question Aeron successfully. She would leave this fortress and never return.

“Danika,” Reyes whispered. “Angel.”

Angel.
“Don't stop.”

His lips were soft, the tiny bit of shadow beard on his jaw scraping her cheeks. Every time he angled his head, taking her deeper with his tongue, harder, and scraping her a little more, a lance of pleasure traveled to her nipples, between her legs.

She moaned, unable to quiet herself.

“Do you like my kiss?” he asked. “I'm not hurting you?”

“I like. Not hurting.” As she squeezed the knotted muscles in his shoulders, she didn't think she would have minded a little pain. She yearned to have his teeth bite at her and his body pound against her. Inside her.

“I'm glad.” His tongue swept past her teeth and worked the roof of her mouth, massaging.

So good, she thought, but still, she needed more. Perhaps she needed everything he had to give. She definitely needed him rubbing against her—why wasn't he rubbing? Some of her desire waned. Why had he sounded controlled? So…unaffected?

The questions chilled the hottest flames of her ardor, and she began to notice other things, as well. She had spread her legs but he hadn't fallen into the offered cradle. She'd clutched at him, desperate for more, yet he remained detached from her, only touching her with his tongue. She'd gasped again and again, yet his breathing was completely unchanged.

Danika pressed into the pillow, pulling from Reyes's lips. She was still panting; he was still breathing normally. She glared up at him, unsure what to think.

“You started this,” she said, anger rising inside her. He had started it and yet he hadn't really participated. “Why? And don't give me any bullshit about wanting the need to end. Clearly, you don't desire me.” Saying it caused the anger to spike.

His eyelids flickered open. Normally they were so dark the pupils seemed to swallow up the irises. Now they flickered and swirled like a sea of churning emotion, a hint of crimson framing the black.

Demon eyes.

She gulped. It was terrifying, being reminded of his inner evil. And yet, still her desire remained. Still, her body ached and hungered. For him, only him. Why?

Much as she'd tried to convince herself that he was the same as any other man, she'd only managed to do the opposite. He was Reyes, a combination of man and demon, drawing and repelling her at the same time. He was right and wrong wrapped in the same sensual package, with a kiss and flavor that transported her at once to the heights of heaven and the depths of hell.

He had sprung from her nightmares, yet he had become her fantasy, weaving gossamer wings of desire through her every cell. He was the only thing she wanted and everything she shouldn't have. She would have been able to pick him out of a lineup blindfolded, his woodsy scent like a tether that bound them together.

What did she truly know about him, besides the fact that he was possessed by a demon? She knew that everyone else seemed pale and weak when compared to him, wilted carnations surrounding a lone, thorny rose. She knew no one else had ever set her on fire like this. She knew that she'd been cold for a long time and only he had been able to warm her.

Surely that warmth was drugging her, luring her down this road of temptation. Not Reyes himself. Yes, she'd blame the warmth. For now. The alternative scared her too much.

“Just get off me,” she said, amazed at her calm.

“I do want you,” he said, and he sounded tortured, as though knives were being shoved under his fingernails.

“Liar.” She echoed his earlier accusation as she pushed at his shoulders.

He didn't budge. He did frown. “Stop, angel. You do not want me to leave.”

Angel. He'd called her angel again. Once, in the dungeon, he'd even called her his. She tried not to soften. Men had used endearments on her before, but none had ever uttered one with such a you-belong-to-me-and-only-me undertone.

“You don't know what I want,” she snapped, “and obviously I'm not what you desire.”
Be happy about that, you idiot.

Shame coasted over his rugged features. Shame and grief. His gaze fell to her shoulder, where her T-shirt gaped and cotton fell away from skin. “I want you. Swear to the gods, I do.”

As he'd spoken, his lower body had brushed hers. He wasn't hard. Her cheeks heated. When he'd first walked to her, his penis had been so hard and full it had strained past the waist of his jeans. One taste of her, and he'd gone limp.
Am I that bad a kisser?

“Don't make me tell you to get off again,” she said. “I don't know what game you're playing, but I told you this was dumb. I need—”

“No game,” he interjected hotly.

She continued as if he hadn't interrupted her. “I need back inside the dungeon, pronto, and this is wasting my time. I need to talk to Aeron.”

“First, you will listen to me.”

“Reyes. Off. Now!”

“We
will
talk, Danika.”

She glared up at him. “Force this, and I
will
hurt you.”

His eyes closed again, hiding whatever emotion was banked in them. His lashes were like summoning fingers, beckoning her deeper into a world of shadows and dark seduction. “I can't—I'm not—”

“Dungeon. Aeron. Nothing else matters. Talk time is over. Kiss time is over. Like we wanted, it's over and done. I won't wonder about your taste again.” Sadly, she knew she would dream of that kiss for the rest of her life. She would dream of what might have been, fantasize about what would have happened if he'd truly wanted her.

“Danika, I—”

Again he paused, and she experienced a wave of painful curiosity. “What?” Her heart pounded against her ribs. “Just say it so I can go!”

His eyelids popped open, fire blazing bright in his pupils. He got in her face, pressing his nose to hers. White-hot breath blistered her skin. “Not another word from you. I have something to tell you.”

These last few months, her will had been ignored completely. Her wonderful life had been taken away, her existence stripped to the bare necessities. Everyone she loved—gone. Painting, her lifeline to sanity—gone.

She wouldn't capitulate on this.

“Not another word, huh?”
You've trained for combat. You know what to do.
Heart pounding, Danika flattened her palm on the cold mattress. Sweat beaded over her skin. Last time she'd defended herself, she'd killed.
Careful this time.
She didn't want to hurt this man beyond repair. She just wanted to wound him a little.

“I never wanted to tell you this, had hoped it would be different with you, but I cannot allow you to think I do not crave you.”

Block his voice and his bittersweet words
.
Act!

“I—”

Danika struck.

With all of her strength, she propelled her palm up and into his nose.
Crunch. Snap.
Warm blood poured from him, spraying her. Reyes moaned. Not a moan of pain, she realized, but of pleasure—exactly the sort she'd longed to hear while his tongue had filled her mouth.

The shock of that moan froze her in place. What. The. Hell?

Slowly Reyes turned his head and faced her again. The blood had already ceased flowing, his nose readjusting itself all on its own. Her eyes widened. He was an immortal warrior, yes, she'd known that. He healed quickly. That, too, she'd suspected after the choking last night. But how could she have predicted the explosive need that would appear in his eyes because she'd broken his nose?

His cock swelled quickly, again as she'd craved earlier, a brand between her jean-clad thighs. What would she have felt if they'd been naked? She swallowed, and Reyes licked his lips, as if he could suddenly taste her there.

A tremor catapulted down her spine. Their bodies brushed, her nipples against his strength, her softness against his warrior-might, and electricity sparked. For a moment, only a moment, the sensation was painful and the pain was a pleasure inside her.

Reyes jolted away from her, that dark lightning gone in an instant. He stopped and stood at the far wall, the glistening head of his erection rising above the waist of his now too-tight pants.

“Reyes,” she said, unsure. Needy all over again, scared and confused.

“I want you, but I cannot have you unless you hurt me.” The harsh admission seemed ripped from his throat. His shame had returned. His guilt. And hope? “I can only experience pleasure with pain.”

Slowly she sat up, her brain too fogged to make sense of what he was trying to tell her. “I don't understand.”

“Yesterday you asked what demon possessed me. Well, my demon is Pain. It makes me crave physical agony, and the more excruciating the better. Bodily suffering is my only source of pleasure.”

Just as it had been hers in that single moment.

No, not a single moment. The truth slinked through her like an ice shower in the midst of a perfect day. It
had
happened before. Yesterday, when she'd awoken in Reyes's bed. She'd bitten him, and she'd liked it. “Can your demon enter
me?
” Her stomach curled into itself. That was impossible. Right?

“No,” he said, but his gaze had sharpened.

Don't think about this right now. You'll panic, lose focus.
“What you're telling me is that, to be with you, I'd have to torture you?” Over and over again?

He nodded.

Her mouth dried, and she suddenly tasted cotton. If she came to care for him—
if?
—and gave herself to him, what would be expected of her? Would she have to scratch him, pinch him, bite him? “Other women have…hurt you?”

He gave another grave nod.

Danika's hands fisted, her nails cutting into the sheet. In that moment, she had no problem summoning the will to harm someone. The thought of Reyes with another woman propelled her toward a jealous rage she'd never before experienced. “Did that work?”

“For a while. Pain is pain, no matter the reason it's meted.”

“Do you still—”
Indulge with those little hookers?
she finished silently. “Do you still seek that kind of woman?”

“Not for many years.”

The anger and the jealousy melted somewhat. “Do you want me to injure you?” Could she?

Surprisingly, he shook his head. Dark hair swayed at his temples. “I crave the pain, I will not lie, and I would love you to be the one giving it to me. But…” He licked his lips, looked away.

“But what?”

“I would never allow you to hurt me like that.”

“Why?” The question burst from her before she could stop it. Not wanting to see pity light his features, she pulled her gaze from his face—and found herself staring at fresh cuts in his arm. He'd been slicing grooves this entire time.

Shaking, she wound her own arms around her middle.
That's
what he needed, knives in his veins. She'd always assumed he was clumsy. She gave a humorless laugh. He wasn't clumsy at all. How foolish she'd been.

“It would change you,” he said, “and not for the better. You are perfect, just as you are.”

Do not react. Ignore his words.
The conversation was dangerous, and nothing good waited at the end. Either she would lose her mind, beg to be allowed to give him what he needed and be disgusted with herself for doing so, or he would continue to reject her, humiliating her.
Get away from him.