She pulled back with arched brows. "That's a handy power you have there," she breathed against his lips.
Before he could respond, she rolled him over on the mattress, nipping at his chin with her fangs. Stryker growled at how good she felt. Holding her, he traveled back to the days when he'd been nothing more than a young prince. The world had been new and fresh. There had been no hatred in his heart. No loneliness. In her arms, he'd always been able to see into forever.
Now she attacked him with the same fervor he felt looking at her. Closing his eyes, he savored her naked skin against his. Her hands clutching his body tight. Even though he was damned and lost, this was heaven and she was his angel.
Zephyra pressed her cheek against his as she tugged at his earlobe with her teeth. His whiskers scraped her skin, raising chills on her body. He smelled of male and spicy aftershave that blended well with her own scent. For years after he'd left, she'd kept his tunic and held it in the wee hours of the night, aching for his return.
In a fit of anger over Apollo's curse, she'd burned it. But now that she was with Stryker again, she wanted to forgive him everything. To go back in time and keep him by her side. If only she could.
"I need you inside me," she whispered. Their play could come later. Right now she wanted to be as close to him as was possible. He answered her with one low groan as he slid himself into her body to accommodate her request.
She cried out in plea sure as she ground herself against his hips, needing to be a part of him. She'd forgotten just how good it felt to be with a man, especially one so skilled. His every thrust, every lick, set her on fire until she wanted to scream in bliss.
Stryker rolled with her, planting her in the center of the bed as he moved even faster and harder against her. His silvery gaze locked with hers, and there in the dim light the exposed vulnerability inside him made her breath catch. The arrogance of his youth was gone, and the pain inside the man tore her apart. So much had happened to both of them since that day in Agapa's temple when they'd bound themselves as husband and wife.
Once again, she saw the tall, uncertain youth who'd laid the dagger's blade to his hand as he cut himself. "With my blood, my heart, my soul, I swear to dedicate my life to yours. Wherever I am, you shall be with me in my thoughts forever. This I vow before your gods and mine. We are now united and only death will divide us." Then he'd leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Even then I shall find a way to be by your side. You and me, Phyra. For all eternity."
A tear slid from the corner of her eye as that memory burned her. She'd believed in him. "Phyra?"
She swallowed as he stopped moving and looked down at her.
"Am I hurting you?"
A sob caught in her throat. "You tore my heart out, you bastard. You made me believe in you when I believed in no one except me."
Stryker sucked his breath in at those words that shredded his soul. "All I ever wanted to be was the man you saw me as. I wish to the gods that I could undo what I did. That I'd stayed and died by your side as I should have. But I can't undo the past. I can't undo the hurt. I know it's no consolation, but I promise you it was no easier on me."
His gaze seared her. "I've never in my life apologized for anything. I've never begged anyone for anything. But I am sorry for what I did and I would gladly go down on my knees if you could forgive me for it."
She pushed him away, then rolled to sit up. "I don't know how to forgive anymore."
Stryker winced as those words tore through him. He deserved nothing more than her scorn. But he couldn't let it go at that. His heart broken, he moved so that he could gently unbraid her hair. The silken strands teased at his flesh as he remembered her brushing it every night before she'd joined him in bed.
Zephyra clutched her fists into the cover as his tenderness touched her deeply. She didn't want to forgive him, but his words and sincerity weakened her. Looking at him over her shoulder, she melted even more. This was a man renowned for his cruelty and savagery. He hesitated at nothing. Yet he brushed his hand through her hair as if afraid of hurting her.
How could she hate someone who loved her so much? Hate the man who'd given her the most precious thing in her life?
"This doesn't mean I like you," she growled before she pushed him back and straddled his hips.