“So am I.”
He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, still swollen from his kisses, and the slumbering desire woke inside her. She flicked him with her tongue then shifted one hand to the back of his neck beneath the silky hair and pulled him down to her for a long, slow, drugging kiss. His tongue thrust inside, filling her as he pushed her back against the wall, his body pressing into hers so she could feel the hardening length of his erection against her stomach. Liquid heat flooded between her thighs, and she rubbed up against him.
Only the blare of a car horn as it drove past them broke them apart, and he laughed softly against her hair.
“Let’s go back,” he said. “Dawn will be here soon.”
The sky was growing pale in the east when they re-entered the building. He hesitated at the elevator. “Stay with me. I need to sleep.”
Exhaustion tugged at her mind, and her lids felt heavy. “So do I.”
Inside his apartment, he stripped her clothes, and made slow, savage love to her, stretching out the tension until she was begging for release. Only then did he tip them both over the edge.
Afterward, he lay beside her, propped on one elbow. “I know you’re not particularly good at doing what you’re told, but could I ask one thing?”
“What?” she asked suspiciously.
“If you wake before me, stay inside. The building is okay, it’s warded, but don’t go outside.”
“Okay. I’ll stay inside.”
His eyes narrowed. “Wow. That was easy.”
“I’m feeling mellow.”
“Yeah, great sex will do that.”
“You’ll have to make sure I get plenty then.”
He leered. “I will.”
Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close and she snuggled into him. His body felt cool against the warmth of hers, but soon she drifted into a sleep. Her last thoughts were—make the most of this because, chances are, it’s not going to last.
Chapter Twenty
The elevator opened directly onto the rooftop. Piers stood at her side, her hand clasped in his as though he sensed her nerves. Christian and Tara were behind them. The Walker had agreed to meet, and he would be here in a matter of minutes. Her insides churned with a combination of fear and anticipation.
As Roz stepped outside, Asmodai appeared out of nowhere, and she jumped. He was in his demon guise, nearly seven feet tall, huge black wings furled at his back. He tossed her a bundle. “Put it on.”
Roz pulled free of Piers and caught it. She shook out the material and found a black, velvet cloak, full-length and hooded. Obviously, Asmodai wanted her hidden. But why?
“You ashamed of me?” she asked.
A smile flickered across his lips. “Let’s just say, it might be better to get the bad news out of the way first.”
“He’s right,” Piers said. “For once.”
Wrapping the cloak around her, she pulled the hood over her hair. “It’s hot in here.”
“I don’t think it will be for long.” He gestured across the rooftop to where a group of faint figures was taking form.
Asmodai stood on one side of her, while Tara came to stand on the other. She slipped her hand in Roz’s and squeezed. Piers and Christian stood in front—the not-very-welcoming committee. Tension radiated from them, and the air thrummed with suppressed power.
The figures glowed with a pale luminescence that faded, revealing two men and a large gray cat. Beside her, Tara let out a small cry, tugged her hand free, and ran forward. She scooped up the cat and rained kisses down on its face. A low growl trickled from Christian, but Tara merely tossed him a grin.
Roz had almost been scared to look. Now she forced her attention to the two men. They could almost pass for human: tall, slender, both with silver-gilt hair down to their shoulders and long faces with pale skin and sharp cheekbones. They were hauntingly beautiful, and the air around them filled with a sweet subtle scent.
They were also almost identical, but she knew immediately which one was the Walker. She recognized him from those long ago memories, and she took an instinctive step forward. Asmodai stopped her, a hand on her arm. She threw him a filthy look but held herself still. Piers glanced back over his shoulder, and she nodded once. An expression of sympathy filled his eyes. He really didn’t like her father, and she was guessing the feeling was mutual.
Christian and Piers moved forward.
“Hey, Walker,” Piers said, “nice to see you’re still trying to blend in.”
Both the fae wore tight black pants tucked into long black leather boots and loose white shirts, and both wore swords at their sides.
The Walker ignored the comment. His crystal green gaze moved over their small group, not pausing on Roz, but narrowing when they settled on the demon beside her.
“Aren’t you going to introduce your friend?” Piers waved a hand to the second fae who stood silent, his gaze fixed on Tara.