As he closed the door behind him, she studied his tense demeanor, the way his chiseled features sharpened even more when he was angry. But she couldn’t tell if his anger was directed at her or not.
The question was answered when he stalked to her, all sensual energy and rolling muscle encased in faded jeans and a tight black tee. His lips came down on hers, and she opened for him, met his tongue as she plastered her body against him. Desire roared through her, flaming hot, hotter than it had ever been with anyone, even at the height of her need. This was different. As pure as the snow they’d made love in.
Con held her tight, and while his hands stroked her back, they didn’t stray. He dragged his mouth along her jaw, down to her neck, and then he kissed her there, right over her jugular. “That was stupid, Sin,” he murmured against her skin. “You shouldn’t have gone to Scotland.”
“We’re here, aren’t we? Where we should be.”
His entire body tensed, and he pulled back. “Yeah. But—” His gaze dropped to her left hand, and he snatched it up. “What the fuck?” He was staring at her fingers—or more accurately, her missing finger. His voice degenerated to a guttural rasp. “What happened? Who did that to you?”
“I did it to myself,” she said gently. “I gave up my assassin master ring.”
“Oh, Jesus. We need to get you to UG—”
“There’s nothing that can be done, and you know it. It’s healed.” She waggled her fingers. “And I have nine spares.”
Con closed his eyes, and when he opened them, they were the somber gray of an overburdened rain cloud. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You were right. Just because no one owned me didn’t mean I wasn’t a prisoner.” She eyed the full-sized bed that was pretty much the only furniture in the studio apartment, and tugged him toward it. “Now,” she teased, “I’m ready for you to do more of that foreplay thing you’ve been bragging about.”
He stopped her, halting suddenly a few feet from the bed. She turned to face him and sucked in an appreciative breath at the sight of him, his gaze dark and predatory, his fangs extended. He looked half-wild, wholly primitive, and, God, he was so hot. His nostrils flared and his lips parted, and she wondered what he was thinking.
A glance at his groin gave her a pretty bigclue as to the state of his mind.
And that fast, she forgot about the foreplay, because she needed him inside her. Right now. She reached for him and he hissed.
“Have you fed recently?” she asked, the idea that he’d taken nourishment from someone else punching her in the gut. Of course he’d have to. The addiction issue would forever keep him from being able to dine on her. Well, he’d just have to settle for bagged blood, because he was notsticking those fangs in anyone else. “Con?”
“No,” he rasped. “I’m hungry, Sin. Not just for blood… for you.”
For her. He wanted her. He didn’t just need her; he wantedher, the way he’d made her admit to wanting him. A startling jolt of joy kicked her pulse into high gear, but it was cut short by a blast of heat and desire that came off him. Lust tore through her in a twisting, writhing tangle, and she moaned. Her vision alternately sharpened and blurred, and the scent of the aroused male in front of her flowed through her like an aphrodisiac syrup.
She took a step toward him, but her legs went rubbery and her feet felt glued to the floor. Weakness meant she was so far gone that, at this point, she didn’t have the strength to even make it to a Harrowgate to find a male. Good thing Con was here, good thing he was who she wanted, and good thing he liked it rough.
Twenty-three
Con stood with his back to the door, so close to it he could reach behind him, open it, and run. Which, if he was smart, he’d do. But Sin’s pheromones had hijacked him, his lust was boiling over, and that, on top of the blood addiction, kept him frozen to the spot.
She moaned again, and the sound made his groin throb. “Con, now. It’s been too long.”
“I know.” He took a step closer. He could have her. He just wouldn’t feed. And then he’d find a way to explain to her that she needed to stay away from him, or her life would be in danger.
The logical thoughts slid like a drop of oil over a gallon of water, fragmenting, becoming slick and thin and lost as the more primitive instincts drove his body and brain.
She tossed her head, flinging her hair away from her neck, and his line of sight narrowed, focused, filled with only her. The whoosh of blood through her veins became a beacon for his growing hunger. The pump of her heart thudded so loud it seemed to affect his own pulse rate.
“Now.”
Another step. His brutal erection punched painfully hard against his zipper. Another step. She might as well be a she-wolf in heat, and the male warg in him couldn’t resist. He was starving, needed her so badly.
If I touch her, I’ll kill her.
Violently, he shook his head, shattering his runaway fears against the inside of his skull.
“Please.” Her pheromones were clouding his head, making his heart pound and his skin shrink.
His gaze locked on her throat. His lips peeled away from his fangs. Bite. Drink. Kill.
No!Reeling backward, he crashed into the wall. “I can’t.” She reached for him, and he hissed. “Don’t. Don’t touch me, goddammit!”
Sin recoiled, hurt flashing behind the haze of need in her eyes. “You want me to go find another male?”
Another male? Oh, hell no. “I’ll kill him.” His voice was smoky, gravelly, as if it had been plucked from the pits of hell.
“Then what?” Sweat beaded on Sin’s brow, and she winced as she wrapped her arm around her belly. She was hurting. “Con, you’ve got to—”
“I can’t!” he roared. “Don’t you get it? I’m not strong enough.”
“So… let me get this straight.” She threw her hand out to catch herself against the wall and she spoke between panting breaths. “You won’t fuck me, but you don’t want anyone else to either.”
That about summed it up. “Damn you,” he growled angrily. “You shouldn’t have gone to Scotland. You shouldn’t have forced this choice on me.” He wasn’t being fair, and he knew that. But he was pissed at himself, at her, at the alignment of the planets and the fate that had brought this all about.
Her head came up, and defiance flashed across her face. “I’m so sorry I need something you can’t give me so you’re feeling inadequate and grumpy.” She started toward the door. “Go to hell. No, wait, that’s where I’m going, because I’m sure I’ll be able to find some hot demon who can give me what I need.”
He snapped, his control shredded beyond repair, and he pounced, taking her down to the floor and tearing at her clothes. Beneath him, she writhed greedily, wrapping her legs around him and thrusting her breasts up into his palms. He tore open the fly of his jeans and entered her hard, and they both cried out. She was hot. Wet. Perfect. His pulse roared in his ears and his vision sharpened—hell, all of his senses heightened to the point of sensory overload as he pounded into her with raw, punishing violence usually reserved for moon fevers.
His fangs shot out as he peaked, and he dove for her neck. Somehow, he dipped into his last reserves of control, and he bit into his arm instead, coming even as pain streaked through him.
Sin joined him with a scream, and as he pumped, taking himself to another, she came again. But when he should have felt sated, he only felt a burning need coiling inside him. Possessive fury tightened his muscles. Heated his blood until he was fevered.
He tore his mouth away from his arm. “Mine. You’re mine, Sin. No one else will ever touch you, do you understand? You belong to me. You’ll bond with me.” Everything but the ecstasy was a blur as he bit into her shoulder, barely able to keep from taking a vein. Behind his teeth, the bond glands tingled. His next climax was hard and powerful, but as Sin’s sex clenched around him, he noted—barely—a change. She whimpered through her orgasm, and then she was struggling to get out from under him.