CHAPTER THIRTY
ZACHAREL SNUGGLED ANNABELLE close. Finally her human form was returning. But then, he’d done much to calm her down, flying her to the stars, as close as he could get her without allowing the atmosphere to freeze her, caressing her arms, her belly, kissing the curve of her neck. When she trembled at the beauty of both, he changed direction and took her to a beach to watch the sunrise and bask in the warmth, still caressing her, still kissing her.
During the first hour, she was withdrawn. During the second, she was stiff as a board. Through it all, she was quiet. He’d gotten used to the way she spoke her mind. He missed that, and wanted it back.
Now they were inside another hotel room, lying on the bed, simply breathing each other in. He’d live in rented rooms if necessary, anything to keep her safe and happy This one was bigger than any of the others, cleaner, nicer.
“Sweetheart,” he said.
“Yes.”
Finally, a word from her.
“You know I desire you, whatever your form.”
“I… Yes.”
“Do you remember when I told you that I wanted to do everything with you?”
Another yes, though this one was barely a whisper.
“That hasn’t changed. I will. Starting now.”
Her eyes flared with shock. “But we’ve already done everything! And you really want me? Now?”
She did not know, after all. “Now. And always.”
His determined assurance gave her pause. “But I’m…hideous.”
Patches of demon scales still remained, yes. “You are lovely no matter your outward appearance, and some things need to be repeated.” Proving that had been the point of tonight’s excursion, and it was clearly time to step up his efforts.
“How can you say I’m lovely? You hate demons as much as I do.”
“You are not a demon.” He stood, tugging her to her feet beside him, then forced her to spin, placing her back against his chest. He walked her to the wall, pressed her close. Her trembling gasp was more about the heat radiating from him than the chill of the plaster, he suspected.
He slid his hands down her sides, her hips, and latched onto her wrists. He lifted her arms and flattened her palms over her head.
“Leave them there.” A command, and when he released her, she obeyed.
He stripped her, then caressed her until she was mewling uncontrollably, until the curve of her spine was pliant, until she was trying to mold herself against him. Eventually her head fell to his shoulder, allowing his breath to fan over her. The heat she threw off…far more than his own and exactly what he needed, driving him to passion as only she could.
Against her ear, he whispered, “Did you like being with me?”
“Yes.” Said on a broken moan. “I did.”
“And you want me again.”
“Oh, yes.”
He traced each of her ribs before dabbling at her navel. “I told you that you would never have to beg me for anything, but I’ve changed my mind. Before I take you, you’ll beg me, Anna. You’ll beg me and you’ll scream and you’ll beg some more.” He needed to know her desire was as potent as his own.
Throughout the centuries, he’d witnessed every sexual act imaginable, each performed for different reasons. Lust, domination, curiosity, humiliation, degradation, calculation, revenge, hope, the desire to have children, the desire to cause pain. Love he’d always sought to deny.
But that’s what he wanted with Annabelle. Love. He wanted a giving and taking, a shared experience.
“Zaaachaaarel,” she said in a sing-song voice.
“That’s a good start.” He could smell the sweetness of her arousal, a fragrance that stroked him from the inside, heating him up, making him burn hotter, so much hotter.
“What if I refuse to beg?”
“You won’t.”