She reached behind him and slowly freed his braid. Waves of incredible sensation rippled through him as she combed through his hair with her fingers.

When she started to pick up a light blue bead, he nudged her hand to a translucent one. She crushed it between her fingers and he gave himself over to her care, moaned as she stroked his chest and teased the small nipples before grasping his cock.

Zurael allowed her to bathe him as thoroughly as he’d bathed her. He willingly turned his back to her and tilted his head so she could wash his hair, touch him in ways he’d never allowed a female to.

It gentled him for a while, chased away thoughts of dominance, of punishing her for her earlier disobedience-even as it filled him with the need to possess her completely, in every way. His cock throbbed, leaked, was more than ready to provide the lubricant necessary to work its way into the virgin orifice he’d traced earlier.

Zurael turned and captured her hands in one of his, saw need in her eyes, a vulnerable tenderness that made his heart and soul weep. “Aisling,” he whispered, pulling her to him, enjoying the press of her breasts against his chest, the way she trembled in reaction to the desire between them.

He held her, ran his hands over her as he kissed her neck, her shoulders, her ears. He built the fire between them until she was clinging to him, then turned her, put her on her knees and urged her to lean over, to grasp the edge of the tub.

She spread her thighs willingly, and the sight of her parted folds nearly distracted him from his purpose. Thoughts of pushing through wet lower lips, of being gripped by the tight muscles of her sheath, made him take himself in hand to stop from moving closer and impaling her with his cock.

He tightened his fingers, let a hint of pain clear the lust so he could concentrate on preparing the way to even greater pleasure. She pressed backward when he palmed her buttock, but when he grazed the rosette of her back entrance she tried to escape his touch, whispered, “no,” as she’d done other times, the word lacking resolve.

“Yes,” he said, moving closer, sliding his penis between her thighs, coating it with the arousal he found there as he rubbed over her swollen labia and clit.

She whimpered in response, tried to cant her hips so he’d find her hot opening. His hands on her buttocks kept her from doing it; his thumbs exploring the crevice between the silky cheeks reinforced his intention to take her there.

When she was shivering with need, he reached for the light blue bead he’d kept her from selecting earlier. It crushed easily between his fingers. The lubricating oil warmed immediately, tingled briefly as it penetrated skin in search of nerve endings.

Aisling jerked when he applied it to the tight pucker of her anus. She tensed, but within seconds she was panting lightly, responding to his commands as he stretched and prepared her, tempted her with the press of his cock head against her opening.

Lust flooded Aisling. Colors exploded on the insides of her eyelids.

Her cunt clenched and her skin slickened with sweat as she pressed backward, and took him into her forbidden entrance as slowly as she’d taken him into her mouth.

His tortured breathing echoed her own. His words of praise and husky pleas filled her with the desire to please him.

She moaned when he was all the way in, felt as though every nerve ending called his name, demanded she move, pull away from him-but not so far he would escape.

Pain and pleasure blended into indescribable ecstasy as she yielded to dark cravings. And he rewarded her with guttural cries and the hot wash of seed, with shuddering release.

They bathed again, sharing the soap generated by the last of the beads. And as he’d done once before, he used demon heat to speed the drying process as he brushed her hair and then his own before they left the bathroom.

Aisling pulled the sheet back, prepared to slide beneath it. He stilled her with a hand to her wrist, a carnal reminder. “You disobeyed me earlier. I told you not to touch me.”

Dark lust and erotic fear chased away the deep contentedness, the desire to cuddle and sleep.

She licked her lips. It was a provocative reminder of just how she’d disobeyed him, by taking him in her mouth. It was a subtle challenge for him to deliver the punishment he’d promised.

Molten eyes darkened, narrowed. Before she could do more than gasp, razor-sharp talons slashed the sheet she was holding, left only a long strip of fabric between fingers that shook slightly.

He released her wrist and took the cloth from her hand. “Get on the bed, Aisling.”

The command in his voice, the knowledge of what he intended, made her shiver and ache, gave birth to a hidden fantasy as she did as he ordered. His face tightened as he read her desire, scented the arousal rushing to coat her inner thighs, her flushed folds.

Aisling was acutely aware of the cool sheet against her heated skin as he bound her wrists and secured them to the bedpost. It was a symbolic admission of how helpless she was against him. A gesture forcing her to admit how much she liked having him above her, straddling her so his rigid cock and heavy testicles rubbed against her abdomen as he looked down at her with possessiveness in his eyes.

“Zurael,” she whispered, unable to think past his name, past the masculine satisfaction edged with desire she saw in his face.

She cried out when he lowered his head and took a nipple between his lips, tortured her as she’d tortured him-with teasing swirls and licks, light touches when she craved the fierce suction of his mouth.

He tormented her until she writhed and thrashed and pleaded. And then he kissed downward, pinned her splayed thighs to the bed with ruthless hands, pleasured her with his mouth and tongue-taking her to the edge of release over and over again-but didn’t let her come until he thrust his cock into her channel and made her scream.

CHAPTER 10

AISLING woke to incredible warmth and feelings of profound security. The first was reality, the second illusion, though she didn’t try to banish it. Instead she allowed herself to savor the heat of Zurael’s skin as he held her in his arms, his hand cupping her breast, his chest against her back. She allowed herself to linger in a fantasy where she was safe, loved. Complete in a way she hadn’t known she could be until he was in her life.

An ache formed in her chest. Her heart and mind warned her of the foolishness of weaving images of the future with him in it. And yet her labia grew slick and parted as memories of the night rushed in-the carnal pleasure he’d shown her and the things she’d allowed him to do to her.

A shiver went through her. She snuggled more deeply into Zurael’s sleeping embrace, welcomed the feel of the erection pressed against her buttocks. She understood dominance and submission, accepted it as the natural order of things when it came to the domesticated animals she’d grown up tending or the wild ones she’d observed. But when it came to humans, gifted and normal alike, she’d always equated it with weak and strong, with loss of power and the helplessness of being at another’s mercy.

Zurael had shown her differently. But in the process he’d peeled away some of her protective armor, made her crave something she might not ever find with another man-with a human.

Her world had always been insular, limited but made safer by those limits. There’d been Aziel, her family, the people Geneva trusted. There’d been long days of physical work. Evenings spent reading or exploring the spiritlands with Aziel.

Sometimes there were dreams of having a home, a husband, children, of living in a place where she wasn’t feared, hated, looked at with suspicion and hostility. But more often there were nightmares of militiamen driving them from the farm. And underneath dreams and nightmares alike was a simple reality she greeted each morning: She had little control over her future, so she needed to make the most of each day.