I sighed. “I know.”
“Leda, you want to be an angel. That means spending a lot of time with other angels.”
I smirked at him. “It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”
He leaned in, capturing my lower lip between his teeth. “Careful, Pandora. There’s a fine line between foreplay and insubordination.”
His fangs broke the surface of my lip. A drop of blood rose slowly, pulsing, burning, shooting my senses into overdrive. I was suddenly hyperaware of everything. Every beat of his heart. Of mine. Every whisper, every breath. The thick, rich aroma of his scent caressed my senses, potent and pure. The taste of an angel. Of my angel. I tilted my neck, brushing my hair aside.
Nero’s eyes flickered to my naked throat. “Stop,” he whispered, his voice rough with need.
I smiled. “Stop what?”
I slid my hand down my neck, tracing the line of my pulse throbbing beneath my skin. With my other hand, I reached for his hand, but he withdrew it. I slid my leg against his, and a low, masculine noise buzzed in his throat.
“You are making it exceedingly difficult for me to hold to your conditions of this date,” he said, each word perfectly articulated, as though he were struggling to maintain control.
I arched my brows at him. “What if I were to remove those conditions?”
“Are you?” he asked cautiously.
“What would you do if I said yes?”
“The things I would do to you I cannot speak of here.”
My inner thighs clenched together, shaking, quivering. I swallowed down the rising tide of excruciating lust, and stuck a sassy smile over it. “I never took you for the modest type.”
His voice dropped to a rough, ragged whisper. “Do not challenge me, Pandora. I have no qualms about burning off all your clothes and taking you here and now on this table.” His hand traced up my thigh, teasing the bottom hem of my shorts.
My head spinning, my heart hammering like a runaway train, I arched my back in silent, sensual invitation. My entire body, head to toe, peak to valley, was burning for him like I had never truly been alive before this moment.
“In front of all these people?” My voice was a raw rasp.
“I never took you for the modest type,” he repeated my earlier words back at me. They sounded so much sexier sliding off his tongue.
“Very funny.”
“I can compel them all to leave if you wish.” His fangs traced the soft, sensitive flesh of my throat.
“Bite me,” I said, caught somewhere between desperate plea and rough demand.
He pulled back, meeting my eyes. “Do you wish to be alone with me, Leda?”
“Yes.”
A smile twisted his lips, and his hand moved up my thigh, parting my legs.
His phone buzzed against my skin. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled it out, glancing at the screen. And just like that, my dark lover vanished in front of my eyes, replaced by the cold soldier. He dropped his hand from my thigh.
“We have to go,” he said, standing.
I followed him toward the exit, my pulse pounding with unfulfilled need.
“Can you focus?” Nero asked as we stepped outside into the scorching night.
“I’m fine,” I assured him. After I have a cold shower.
“I can make it snow over you,” Nero offered.
He’d read my thoughts again. I scowled at him to let him know what I thought about that.
“I can’t really not hear your thoughts when you’re broadcasting them to me loud and clear, Pandora.”
I wasn’t broadcasting anything. Ok, maybe that wasn’t true. Back in the restaurant, I’d been broadcasting loud and clear. But whatever. I didn’t have time to be self-conscious right now. The message Nero had received was obviously bad news.
“I’m fine,” I repeated, this time without the inner monologue. “What’s going on?”
“Valiant and two of the other Pilgrims took one of our trucks and drove onto the Black Plains.”
“They’re going after the relics,” I said.
“And we’re going after them,” he told me. “Before the monsters get them.”
8
Lost Relics
“The night is dark and full of monsters,” I commented as I reloaded my gun.
Beside me in the truck, Drake snickered.
Captain Somerset glanced at us from the driver’s seat. “Less joking. More killing monsters.”
I shot at the metal, roughly man-shaped giant chasing after our truck. The ground shook beneath its feet with every heavy stride. The fiend looked like a monster born out of the metal debris of the fallen cities and shattered roads of the Black Plains. See, monsters weren’t just made of flesh and blood. They could be plants. They could be made of metal or wood, of glass or mud, of water or fire. Of basically anything you could imagine and then a whole lot more.
This metal giant was a whole lot more. Its armor was seamless, as hard as dragon scales and as flexible as steel. The only things we had that worked against the monster were bullets filled with a magical agent that corroded metal, making it rust. We just had to keep hitting it until it had enough holes in its armor for the big cannon on top of the truck to blow it to pieces. That was taking a long time. Even longer than it had taken us to take down the other two metal giants.
“We’re going to run out of ammunition,” Drake said.
“Just keep shooting,” Captain Somerset commanded us.
Morrows didn’t need to be told twice. He hadn’t stopped shooting since a trio of these metal monsters attacked us outside the Windy Woods, one of the many haunted forests on the Black Plains. Cupcake handed him a new gun whenever he ran out of bullets, so the party never stopped.
“Are you sure you’re actually hitting the target?” I asked Morrows.
“Come a little closer and find out for yourself.”
“I think I’ll pass,” I said as one of my corrosive bullets hit the monster in the eye. “There’s no space over there.”
Since the Pilgrims had taken one of our trucks, we all had to squeeze into this one. Twelve Legion soldiers—eleven right now since Nero was flying ahead to clear our path of monsters—and enough weapons, ammunition, and potions to take out a legion of monsters.
“You can sit on my lap, baby,” Morrows offered. “I’ll even let you hold my gun.”
“No, thank you. I don’t want to pet your cannon.”
Morrows roared with laughter. “You’ve got spunk, Pandora. No one can deny that.”
“Too much spunk,” Lieutenant Lawrence said, each word dripping scathing disapproval. “I cannot fathom what Colonel Windstriker could possibly see in you.”
“The fact that she doesn’t wear underpants probably helps,” Claudia said, snickering.
“I thought I was the only one who’d noticed,” Greer said.
“No.” Morrows grinned. “We all noticed.”
My cheeks burned. “I’m pretty sure there’s some Legion rule about staring at your comrade’s ass,” I muttered.
“No, just about touching it,” Claudia informed me, looking at Morrows.
“I can feel you burning a hole in the back of my head, Sergeant Vance,” he said gleefully.