Though the caretakers, both six-hundred-year-old vampires, were reserved in their joy, their delight at having the house become a home was clear. Jason watched as Mahiya won their loyalty with her quiet warmth and openness of heart, and he knew the dangerous pair—trained in high-level offensive and defensive skills—would watch over her when he had to be away. For a spymaster could not always stay in one place, and he wondered if Mahiya would understand that.
That, however, was a question for another day. Tonight, he dined with a princess who seemed to see no lack in him and who understood the words he didn’t, couldn’t, speak. Having already given the caretakers the night off, he and Mahiya played in the kitchen like children . . . until he kissed the nape of this woman who looked at him with love so bright, he could almost believe it wouldn’t end in pain. She shivered, her body melting into his.
Knowing Mahiya wouldn’t be comfortable outside the closed doors of their bedroom—and it was their bedroom; she’d made that clear by quietly moving his small bag from another suite—he kissed her again before leading her up the stairs and inside. The caretakers had pulled the curtains before they left, but the stars burned through the skylight.
Shutting the doors behind himself, he stayed in place. Will you?
Her skin flushed and she ducked her head, before walking to the vanity and slipping off the bangles of jade green glass leavened with gold he’d bought for her from the same shop where she’d purchased several sets of new clothing, having come to New York with nothing but what she wore. He’d forgotten to pick up her bag from the temple where she’d dropped it, he’d been so desperate to get to her, make sure she was safe.
Bangles clinking onto the vanity, she removed the simple gold hoops in her ears. A slow, deep breath as she shifted away from the mirror, her back to him, and reached up to undo the buttons at the top of her wings that held up a simple tunic of pure black embellished with green and silver embroidery along the mandarin collar. As he watched with a quiet possessiveness that built until it was a primal hunger within, she pushed off the tunic, even as she reached back to undo her hair to create a tumbling curtain of ebony.
Her legs were sleek and graceful when she pulled off the narrow tapered pants of a rich, deep green. Rising to her full height, she gathered her hair over her left shoulder in a move that sent a tide of color over her skin . . . and he saw she’d taken off her last fragile piece of clothing when she removed her pants, the evocative beauty of her wings her only protection.
Breathing jagged and body rigid, he closed the distance between them to run one hand down the centerline of her back and around her hip to splay on her navel. When she whispered his name, he lavished a kiss over the rapid beat in her throat. Thank you, princess.
Picking her up in his arms to her soft gasp, he carried her to the bed and laid her on her back, her wings spread in magnificent display. Her eyes slid away, hot red dusting her cheekbones, but though she fisted her hands in the sheets, she didn’t attempt to cover herself. And when he began to undo the buttons of his shirt, those eyes returned to watch him with an anticipation that was a caress across his senses.
By the time he covered her body with his own, the need inside him was a craving that pulsed in every inch of his skin. Nudging her thighs apart, he settled between the silken limbs that slid around to lock at his back, a sweet, hot prison he had no desire to escape. He felt her slickness on his cock as she arched toward him, grit his teeth against the urge to surge into her. No matter how much he wanted to seal the bond between them in this new place with an act intimate and honest, he would not hurt her. Mahiya?
I’m ready. She opened to his kiss without hesitation. Come inside me, Jason. I miss you.
Shuddering with hunger so deep it was painful, he took her at her word and began the slow, exquisite slide into her body. Her spine arched, her pleasure a living current that burned sensation over every inch of him, her hands gripping his arms, her legs keeping him captive.
Oh!
He buried himself to the hilt inside her as her passionate cry reverberated through his bones, his mouth demanding on her own. She gave him everything he asked for, and she made her own demands in turn—subtle, feminine demands a man had to pay careful attention to hear, to sense, and that gave Jason a violent pleasure to fulfill.
Stroking his hand down the curves of her body, he cupped the back of one sleek thigh and rocked against her, pulling out a bare inch before pushing back in. She broke the kiss to suck in a breath, her head twisting on the pillow as her body undulated in perfect rhythm with his own, as if they had always been meant to be lovers.
When he fisted his fingers in her hair and retook her mouth, her hands slid over his nape to close over the sensitive arches of his wings in a caress that made him groan, her tongue dueling with his own. He pulled out a fraction more, rocked in harder, her breasts rubbing against his chest in sweet temptation.
Breaking the kiss, he rose up on an elbow and cupped one of the sensitive mounds. You are beyond lovely.