Patience.
“It’s the spot where the barrier between life and death is the thinnest,” he instead revealed.
A portion of her righteous anger faltered. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh,” he drawled.
“Perfect.” She wrinkled her nose. “It seems we’re screwed. I don’t see how we’re going to get a Nephilim unless you want me to try and capture one.”
A slow, wicked smile curved his lips. “Actually, we already have one.”
“You do?” Her brows snapped together. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because she just arrived.” He allowed his gaze to lower, taking a slow, deliberate survey of her rigid body.
“Who—” She sucked in a sharp breath as she belatedly realized who the Nephilim in question was. “No. No way.”
His hand reached to cup her cheek in his hand, the scent of honeysuckle wrapping around him as her body reacted to the promise of becoming his willing sacrifice.
Anticipation licked through him, igniting the sexual hunger he’d tried so hard to keep suppressed around this female. He gloried in the sensations. Christ, he hadn’t felt this level of need for…six months.
Not since this female had appeared in his home with her defiant expression and ability to stir strange sensations that he sensed were too dangerous to indulge.
His thumb brushed over her lush lips, the sparks of energy shooting up his arm.
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
Her lips parted, but before she could speak, his hands spanned her waist. With one fluid motion he had her lifted off her feet, then before she could yank out her obsidian blade and stab him in the heart, he tossed her onto the bed.
~
Sloane felt the air knocked from her lungs as she hit the mattress. Or maybe it was shock that stole her breath.
Or fury.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t excitement.
Hell no.
How dare this male assume that she would allow him to feed off her? She wasn’t a concubine. Or a willing Thrall.
She was a warrior.
“Have you lost your mind?” she rasped, pushing herself up to her elbows so she could glare into his beautiful face.
He placed a knee on the edge of the bed, hovering above her like an avenging angel.
Or more likely, a devil.
The lean, starkly gorgeous features had softened with a smoldering sensuality that glided over her like a warm caress.
A delicate hint of his Incubus powers.
“You were the one insisting that I concentrate on my duty,” he reminded her, his eyes glowing like melted copper. The scent of exotic spices filled the air, clouding her thoughts. “Feeding is part of that duty.”
She licked her lips, trying to clear her thoughts. Her body was softening as he leaned forward. Lust pulsed between them, battering through the barriers she struggled so hard to build between them.
“Not on me,” she insisted.
His gaze lingered on her mouth that suddenly felt swollen. As if preparing for his kisses.
“Why not?” he demanded, reaching out to grasp the sleeve of her leather jacket.
She was frozen as he tugged her arm out of the jacket. She should be knocking his hand away. And leaping off the bed. Or stabbing him with her dagger.
Instead she lay there like a stupid doll, allowing him to peel her out of her coat to reveal the miniscule muscle shirt beneath.
“I’m a Blade,” she muttered. Lame, truly lame.
His lips twitched. “No longer.”
“I’ve been trained as a warrior, not to…”
Her words trailed away as another blast of Incubus magic pulsed against her.
Christ. She was almost choking on her lust.
“Have sex?” he finished for her.
“Yes.” Her teeth ground together.
“Don’t worry,” he assured her in low tones. “I’m an expert.”
With a flick of his hand he tossed aside her jacket, grimacing as it hit the floor with a heavy thud. Well what the hell did he expect? She’d just pointed out she was a warrior. That meant she didn’t wear little flimsy things. Her coat was loaded with her weapons.
Dismissing her lack of feminine appeal, Tiege planted his hand on the pillow beside her head, his molten gaze running a path of destruction down her rigid body.
“Wait,” she breathed, trembling with an odd combination of fear and an intense, obnoxious yearning. “This is going way too fast.”
“Have you ever fed an Incubus?”
“Of course not.”
His fingers lightly stroked over her hair. “Are you a virgin?”
She flinched. There was no way in hell she was going to share her one, awkward attempt at sex with a drunken sailor. “No, but—”
“Was he human?”
She glared as he absently tugged the band from her ponytail so his fingers could thread through her hair. “It doesn’t matter.”