And maybe she didn't.
"Adele—" He kissed her again, a slow, soul-shattering kiss. Caught both hands in her bodice and tore. Then he was burying his face against her throat, tracing his lips across the smooth slope of her breasts. The puckered bud of her nipple slipped over his lips, and he sucked hard, finding life in her gasp, feeling heat blooming beneath his hands and mouth— Alive. Alive and so beautiful.
Her heart pounding beneath his touch.
Warmth flooding to the surface, stealing away the chill of her skin.
Alive. Alive. And it made his heart beat too. Made him realize that he'd been many years dead in some ways, until she forced her way into his life and made his heart beat for the first time in seventeen years.
"Malloryn," she whispered, fingers threading through his hair as she arched against him, offering him all of her. "I want you. Inside me. Now."
He freed himself from his trousers and then grabbed her by the hips.
"I thought you were dead," he said again, filling her with one smooth thrust.
But it was heat that surrounded him.
A living woman in his arms, one who gasped in shock and threw her head back as he took her. He tried to be careful. Tried to restrain himself. To maintain some sort of grip over the passionate demands of the craving as his bloodlust rose, threatening to overwhelm him.
Mine.
She is mine.
Adele moaned and bit his lip, and then he couldn't restrain himself any longer. Hips flexing, he captured her face between both hands as he plunged his tongue inside her mouth, consuming her, devouring her, thrusting so hard the desk inched across the floor with a groan.
Each stroke punched through him, a shiver of heat licking up the base of his spine. Adele's hands ran down his back and over his bare buttocks, clasping there, her nails digging in even as her hips locked around his. "Malloryn!"
And then, a little softer, but far more dangerous, "Auvry."
He could feel the edge of orgasm quiver through her, and then his hand was between them, thumb grazing over the slickness between her thighs, determined to push her over the edge first.
Adele convulsed around him, her body clutching at his in spasms of pleasure that left scoring marks across his back from her fingernails.
And then he was tumbling into oblivion himself, throwing himself into headlong pursuit of the physical, and giving himself over to the mind-shattering relief of a pleasure so violent it burned him up from the inside out and tore from his lips in a soft cry that sounded like her name.
Malloryn collapsed against her, his breath coming in great, heaving gasps even as gentle hands rubbed his back, as if she knew exactly how much he needed her touch right now. A wounded-animal sound echoed in his throat, and he clung to her, soaking in the heat of her skin as he buried his face against her throat.
Balfour had lost this round.
But only because of Adele's ingenuity.
And yet it didn't feel like they'd won. Because now Balfour had the key to Malloryn's complete destruction.
He'd revealed everything—including his heart—when he went straight for the location where he'd thought Adele was being held. If Balfour wanted to cut his heart out of his chest, now he knew how to do it.
"I'm never letting you out of my sight again," he whispered.
Ever.
Chapter 30
"I'm so glad you're all right," Lena told her, throwing her arms around Adele and nearly squeezing her breathless. "Will heard some strange story about you being injured in the explosion at the opera, and I came straight over."
"To Hardcastle Lane?"
"Well, you certainly weren't at home. So I had a little suspicion this might be where you were hiding." Lena turned in circles, examining the foyer as she tugged her gloves off. "Though I must admit, I am decidedly curious. The last we spoke, you were marching here to confront your husband. I quite feared for his life, but then I didn't hear from you...."
Malloryn was going to be furious if he realized his secret little safe house wasn't so secret anymore—though he'd already claimed there was no point moving again, as Balfour had found his safe houses twice.
"Wait." Adele frowned. "How on earth did Will know I was in the explosion?"
"Blade may have been curious about the explosion, and saw your husband there. Your name was mentioned," Lena said. "I wasn't sure if you were the one setting the charge, however, considering your recent vendetta against certain opera singers."
"I did not burn the opera down." Adele tried to rein in her thoughts. She had to be careful what she said. Lena was her dearest friend, but how could she even begin to explain.... "And I don't have a vendetta against any opera singers."
"No?"
There was something about the way her friend said it.
"No." Adele didn't even know where to begin, but she couldn't deny it was lovely to see her friend. And the rest of COR seemed to be running about at Malloryn's beck and call, which left her alone with her thoughts. "Here. Come and sit in the parlor. We'll have some privacy."
Lena wasted no time. "You haven't been in society for some days now. There's... a lot of mention of the opera."
"I haven't really heard," she admitted. "I've been resting, and Malloryn's been busy for the last two days...." Her voice faltered.
Matters of the realm.
Dealing with the queen and the council.
She knew that.
And yet, as much as something had changed between them the night of the explosion, some things hadn't changed at all. He'd practically avoided her all day yesterday.
Lena glanced down.
"What is it? I can see you have something on your mind. Tell me," Adele demanded.
"Will said.... He said your husband saved Mrs. Danner from Crowe Tower before it blew up." Lena tried to keep the words light. "Everybody in the Echelon's talking of it—quite the rescue, according to all reports."
That she hadn't heard.