His fingers raked a sensitive spot deep inside that ignited her, sent flame racing through her until even her breath burned in her throat. Every pulse of her climax sang with pure, rich notes as her body churned to life.
Lore brought her down with light, gentle strokes over her center, never once taking his eyes off her. Before he’d come along, she hadn’t believed that being watched during such a private, intimate moment would be so sexy, but the way his gaze grew hotter, his expression more intense, and his body harder… yes, this was something she enjoyed and wanted to repeat often. Her mind started flipping through future scenarios, more things she could do while he watched, and the fire sparked again.
“Inside,” he rasped. “Now.”
“What happened to against the door?” she said saucily.
“I want you so bad I’ll break it.” He nipped her throat before turning her around and giving her a playful slap on the bottom. “Bed. I need your bed.”
She opened the door and paused at the threshold. “Our bed now.”
Stark masculine pride and possession took over his expression. She shivered with appreciation as he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. With a gentleness she didn’t expect, he placed her on the bed they’d both been chained to. Still were, in a way, and she wouldn’t change a thing.
She trailed one finger along the whorls of his dermoire, and he marveled at the blessed sensation, didn’t know if he’d ever get used to feeling something he’d stopped praying for decades ago. “You said once that you weren’t always a killer. That you were more than that. You were right.”
“At the time I said it, I was lying.”
“And now that you aren’t an assassin? Do you still think it’s a lie?”
“No,” he said, as he trailed kisses along her shoulder. “I’m a man with a future and a family. Because of you. My old life is over, and I can’t thank you enough for that.”
She grinned. “I feel the exact same way.” Her hand drifted to his waist, and then lower, until he was gasping in pleasure. “For us, the end is just the beginning.”
“Larissa Ione has gone straight to the top with this series.”
— FallenAngelReviews.com
Please turn this page
for a preview of
the next thrilling romance in
Larissa Ione’s Demonica Series
Sin Undone
Available in mass market in September 2010
One
Sin had been summoned.
Here she was, the freaking head of an assassin den, master of over two dozen highly skilled killers, and she’d been summoned like some lowlife imp to an audience with her brother. The great demon doctor.
She’d already given him her blood, her DNA, her pee, her spinal fluid… whatever samples the doctor wanted for his research, she’d handed over. Sin was, after all, responsible for the disease that was wiping out the werewolf race.
What a claim to fame.
Sin muttered to herself as she traversed the dark hallways of Underworld General on the way to Eidolon’s office. Wraith, the only one of her four brothers with blond hair and blue eyes, stood in the doorway as though he’d been waiting for her.
“Well, if it isn’t Typhoid Mary.”
She shot him the bird and pushed past him to enter the office, missing a step when she saw not only Eidolon, MD, but Conall, SOB.
Great. When she’d last seen the vampire-werewolf last month, they’d parted on shitty terms. Granted, she’d led him to believe she’d intentionally started the plague that was killing his people, but if he hadn’t been such an ass, she might have told him the truth.
Not that the truth was much better.
“Sin.” Eidolon remained at his desk, his dark eyes bloodshot and framed by dark circles. “Sit.”
The command ruffled her feathers, but she hooked a chair with her foot, yanked it as far from Conall as possible, and planted her ass. “What now? I don’t have any blood left, and if you think you’re getting a stool sample, you can—”
“I don’t need a stool sample,” Eidolon interrupted. “I need your help.”
She felt Con’s silver eyes drilling into her, and to her annoyance, her body flushed with warmth as though remembering another drilling he’d done to her. That was so not happening again. She’d die before letting him so much as touch her. “What kind of help?”
“Thanks to Harrowgates and the ability to travel instantaneously, the virus has made its way to every continent except Antarctica. The death toll is climbing. The disease has a 100 percent mortality rate, a practically nonexistent incubation period, and no victim has lived longer than seventy-two hours after infection. Basically, by the time a patient arrives, we don’t have a lot of time for treatment.”
Jesus. It was worse than she’d thought. “Haven’t you made any progress at all?”