An answering heat pooled in her woman’s folds. Nervousness fluttered in her chest with the realization that her earlier fear had kept her from recognizing her body’s attraction to him. She shivered as her eyes traveled up his torso to collide with Zurael’s gaze.

Desire burned in the liquid gold of his eyes-there and then gone, as if he’d battled and managed to extinguish the flames fanned to life between them. “Do you recognize the sigils?” he asked.

“No.”

“It’s a protection charm?”

“I think so. I’d be of little use if I was thrust into the spiritlands every time I was in the presence of Ghost.”

He nodded and released her hand. She pulled the soft leather pouch from underneath her shirt and placed the blood-fed fetishes and the pentacle in it before letting it fall back into place.

A low moan filtered in from the living room, reminding her of Elena and the silver coins. Nervousness fluttered in Aisling’s belly along with deep anger. “I’ll have to take her money. She’ll never trust me with what she knows unless she thinks she’s bought me with her silver. Other than Father Ursu and the bishop, I don’t know anyone here.”

Zurael cupped her cheek with his hand and sent her heart skittering in a dance of longing. His eyes met hers. “In the end you’ll wish you’d never summoned me to save her life. She’s already cost you much. Her selfishness could have cost your life today.”

“But it gained me a chance to save my family.”

Zurael stroked his thumb over her mouth. His cock pulsed when her breath caught in her throat and her eyelashes lowered in an unconscious invitation for his kiss. In the physical world her hair was braided, but the image of her in her astral state, naked with the blond locks flowing down her back, was burned into his mind.

He was a Serpent prince, a being who could take any form and no form. He could trace his line back to the first Djinn to be born from the fires of a molten Earth. She was all that he wasn’t, yet he struggled to keep from answering her silent summons to touch his lips to hers and share his spirit with her.

She was forbidden fruit, a sweet temptation he was finding it harder and harder to resist. For all that his mind argued against knowing her in a carnal way, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing his mouth to the corner of hers then kissing downward to the spot on her neck where her pulse pounded not with fear, but with desire.

Zurael luxuriated in the softness of her skin, in the heady scent of her arousal and the knowledge that he had the power to enthrall and enslave her. Her nearly silent whimpers made him want to stretch her out and cover her with his body.

He imagined himself thrusting into her. Plunging in and out until her low cries turned into pleasure-filled screams.

The groans from the next room grew louder. Their sexual nature became obvious.

Zurael smiled as Aisling’s embarrassed blush burned his lips. The reminder they weren’t alone gave him the strength to break the contact and rock back onto his heels.

Aisling rose to her feet and swayed under an assault of dizziness. Only Zurael standing and grabbing her arms kept her from toppling over.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” he said, pulling her against him.

The sound of his steady heartbeat and the feel of his warmth chased the light-headedness away. She breathed in his exotic masculine scent and closed her eyes.

“Tea helps,” she said, but she didn’t have the energy to pull away from him and take the first step toward the kitchen.

For a long moment they stood together. Surprise made her eyes open when she realized Aziel was still perched on her shoulder. Confusion caused her to retreat from Zurael’s light embrace.

In each of Aziel’s lives he’d always been overly protective and aggressive toward any male who showed an interest in her. Yet now he allowed a demon prince to hold her.

A chill slid through Aisling as she wondered if Aziel was demon. She’d never seen his true form. She’d never been able to determine what type of entity he was. He’d rebuffed her efforts gently but firmly each and every time her curiosity led in that direction.

He was her companion long before he became her spirit guide. She’d loved him always. He wasn’t a shapeshifter, but she’d never allowed herself to see his possession of his host forms as demonic.

People of faith painted all demons with a single brush. They saw them as malicious beings that served an evil master and sought the downfall of mankind. She had not found that to be the only truth. She had encountered such entities in the spiritlands, just as she’d encountered creatures that had once been gods but had later been named demons when one religion conquered another.

She had never looked for the gates of hell, but she didn’t doubt such a place of punishment could be found in the ghostlands. When Zurael had called her a child of mud and promised retribution with his eyes, she’d thought he was a prince of hell. Now she wondered why it was his name Aziel had given her and what it meant that Aziel allowed Zurael to touch her.

“Why are you here?” she asked, lifting her chin as she met Zurael’s gaze.

His hand went to her neck. His thumb brushed across her pulse. “Because you summoned me.”

“Only the one time.”

“Once is all it takes.”

She shivered at the underlying menace in his voice, remembered too well his silky promise of retribution. She could still feel the phantom prick of his talons as he’d greeted her at the door earlier, but she refused to hide from the truth. “You came to kill me.”

“Yes.” His expression softened when she didn’t pull away from him. He leaned in so his cheek touched hers. His breath was a warm breeze flowing over her ear. “Rest easy, child of mud. You’re safe from me unless you summon me again.”

She opened her mouth to say she wouldn’t, then closed it again as the images she’d seen in the pool of her own blood rose from her conscience in warning. She would walk into the fires of hell if it meant saving her family.

Aisling stepped back and turned away. She was still weak and shaky, but somehow she made it to the living room door.

Her earlier blush returned with flaming heat. Elena was on the floor, her skirt up and her panties down to reveal the curls between her thighs. Her expensive blouse was parted, its buttons scattered in haste. Her bra was open so her fingers could pluck and pull at already bruised nipples.

Zurael cursed softly. He placed his hand on Aisling’s arm and helped her to the kitchen.

Fine tremors ran through her hands as she filled the teakettle and set it on the stove then pulled chipped mugs from the cabinet along with a jar of honey. Frustrated tears wet the corners of her eyes when tea scattered on the counter as she attempted to fill the small metal tea balls with leaves. She hated the weakness that left her so shaky.

Aisling closed her eyes and tried to steady herself. She’d be fine as soon as she had something to drink.

Zurael left the kitchen. She heard him moving around, but she didn’t open her eyes until he’d swung her up into his arms.

Her heart fluttered at the tenderness in his face. In two steps he was settling her onto one of the chairs he’d brought from the living room.

“I assume you’d rather have your tea in the kitchen,” he said. “Under different circumstances the show your guest is putting on might be arousing, but at the moment I find nothing pleasant about her presence here.”

Aisling nodded. She found it impossible to look away as Zurael took over the tea preparations. His movements were flowing, graceful. He was beautiful to look at.

Aziel rubbed his furry cheek against hers before sliding to her lap and hopping to the floor to disappear into the living room.

Zurael poured boiling water into the cups. His body hardened and burned with the feel of Aisling’s eyes on him. Even without looking at her, he was intensely aware of her.