He glanced at the moonlight filtering through the high lattice window and said, “Not long. Perhaps an hour.” An hour as he listened to her breathe, as he traced quiet patterns on her skin and felt his heartbeat slow, lulled by the rhythm of hers. It had been an unexpected thing, and it had caused a violent response in him, a raw urging to get out, to get free.
But Jason was almost seven hundred years old, understood what drove him—he’d looked into the abyss of his soul, seen the lonely, forgotten boy looking back at him. He knew that boy trusted no one and nothing, knew he looked upon any kind of an emotional bond with suspicion, expected nothing but pain from any such relationship.
That boy, he was so afraid.
It was a truth about himself Jason had come to terms with long ago. That scared boy didn’t rule his conscious mind, but was so embedded in his subconscious that he often didn’t know why he acted as he did until the deed was done and his mind cleared again. Tonight, he’d fought the urge to leave when it hit him, because being in bed with a sleeping Mahiya was a pleasure all its own.
He liked that her scent warmed and seemed to soak into his own skin, liked that he could twine her hair lazily around his fingers and play with it as he thought, liked that she made tiny little noises and burrowed deeper into him every so often—as if she adored being with him. He almost felt real, as if he was a normal man, one capable of loving a woman and holding her close.
It was an illusion, but it was an illusion he was willing to believe in for this night.
“Hmm.” Reaching down, Mahiya tugged up the sheet tangled around her thighs to her waist, before placing her hand over his heartbeat again. Her wing rose a fraction as her mouth and jaw moved against his skin in a yawn, and the silver light of the moon kissed the feathers to jewel brightness.
Before she’d fallen asleep, those wings had shimmered in his vision as she spent an hour touching and kissing his body with unhidden pleasure. Drunk on the tactile sensations, he’d had to coax her to straddle him, his shy Mahiya, but once there, she’d used her position to caress him with sweet feminine delight.
Living in the illusion, he moved one hand to run his fingers over the sensitive arch. She shivered, her wing floating down to lie across his body once more. “You could make me agree to commit a great many sins with those fingers, Jason.”
“There are no sins in pleasure.” It was something Dmitri had once said to him, a sardonic twist to his mouth, the mockery directed inward.
Mahiya’s soft laugh changed the words, turned them sensual and playful. “I think I shall make that my motto when I am free, and live the life of an unabashed hedonist.”
Images of her clothed in raw silks and exquisite cashmere, her body petted and smoothed with exotic creams, her lips closing over a delicious morsel as she lay on satin sheets flashed through his mind. Sliding a fingertip down her spine, he spread his hand on her lower back, his fingers just brushing the curves below. “I would be happy to massage you with scented oils.” Until her skin gleamed and she lay boneless beneath his touch.
Her laugh was startled this time, huskier. Rubbing her cheek against his skin, she said, “Dangerous man—I’m not certain I’d survive the pleasure.” Pushing up against his chest, she looked down at him, her hair tumbling over one smooth shoulder, her breasts hidden by the sheet she’d pulled up to hold against her chest. Always so modest, though as a lover, she gainsaid nothing he demanded.
“Vanhi,” she said, expression becoming solemn, “said something else important. I forgot to tell you with everything else. She thought she might have seen the vampire with bone-pale skin and scarlet hair once. Long ago.”
Jason listened, added that fact to the information he already had.
“So?” she prompted when he didn’t respond. “I know you were out doing what you do earlier. What did you learn?” A scowl. “Do not think to keep me in the dark, Jason.”
He should’ve reminded her she held no cards to play, but he knew that would hurt her, and he didn’t want to hurt this princess with her heart strong enough to survive three hundred years with an archangel who saw her only as a means to an end. “There is plenty of moonlight.”
Making an exasperated sound, she dipped her head to kiss him, sinking her teeth into his lower lip in a bite that didn’t so much as sting. “This is not the time for spymaster humor.”
Were she another woman, he’d have thought she attempted to use the afterglow of sex to sway him, but this was Mahiya—who had grown up in a hotbed of lies but chose not to use those tactics. Caressing her with the hand he had on her lower back, he said, “I found a couple who remember seeing a vampire who fits the description in Neha’s court three to four hundred years ago.”
“They can’t be more certain?” she asked, a humming kind of tension in her frame.
“At five thousand years old . . .”
Mahiya sighed. “Like Vanhi, their memories are tucked away in secret corners of their minds.” A thoughtful pause, before she said, “Just over three hundred years ago, Eris was exiled to his palace, and my mother was executed.”