Blade deepened the kiss, one hand holding hers, the other trailing upward to the nape of her neck so that his fingers tangled in her short-cropped curls. She sighed softly, closing her eyes and losing herself in the sensations he aroused. His hand fell from her hair to ease into the front of her dress. Cupping her breast, he rolled its nipple between his thumb and one finger, the delicate motion eliciting small sounds of pleasure she could not believe were her own.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered when he drew his hand away. When he did not respond, Raven opened her eyes. She caught caution and regret swelling in his.
“This isn’t the time or place,” he said, although he made no move to release her.
She knew he would let her go if she asked him to. She had but to say the word.
She could not blame her reluctance to do so entirely on her demon. “When would be a better time?” she asked. “When I’m in the middle of another hallucination? When I’m running from Godseeker assassins?” She paused, unsettled. “Or perhaps you really are afraid of what I am.”
“What you are is a brave, beautiful, and desirable woman.” His words came out soft but emphatic, and the palm he placed on her cheek was softer still. “I’m not afraid of you. Not here or anywhere else. I think you’re the one who has something to fear right now.”
…
Between the goldthief bite and the lingering effects of adrenaline, she wasn’t entirely in control of her own actions.
He had no such excuse. He opened his mouth to say more. To put a stop to this.
She tugged the tail of his shirt from his trousers and slipped her fingers along the hard, bare plane of his stomach, then lowered her head to press her lips to the flesh she had exposed. He struggled to breathe, to find a way to extricate them both from a situation that was already too far out of hand. Instead he smelled the freshness of her hair and felt the smooth softness of her skin beneath his hands as her warm lips skimmed across the sensitive flesh above his navel.
His body thrummed with pleasure, and he pulled her toward him so he could take her mouth with his. When she parted her lips for him, ever so slightly, he edged his tongue between them to sweep against hers. She tasted sweetly innocent, despite her bold words.
The thought of her possible innocence gave him pause. He was uncertain of her true level of experience and suspected it was not high, although he had nothing on which to base the assumption other than instinct. But he found her exciting, and that was something that had been missing from his life for a very long time. He felt more alive than he had in a decade.
He wouldn’t rush her, or take more than she wanted to give, but he longed to feel her.
He took her face in his palms and kissed her again, but with more passion this time. As he felt her relax, he let his hands drift slowly down the delicate curves of her throat to the neck of her dress. The tattered remains slid from her shoulders to pool at her narrow waist. Slowly, allowing her time to protest if she wished, he eased it over her rounded hips and let it drop to the cave floor.
She closed her eyes, not out of modesty, but with a slight sigh of pleasure on her lips. He had to admire how lovely she looked, bathed in the unusual lighting. He tucked a wild curl behind her ear, allowing his fingers to track the line of her jaw. She drew in a sharp breath.
And still, she did not call a halt.
Hands trembling from exercising restraint, he drew his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. She slid her hands down to unbutton his trousers. Soon they were touching, his heated flesh to hers. She opened her eyes and murmured his name. As he lifted her into his arms she wrapped her legs around him, and he rested her slender back against the cave’s soft wall. Bracing her against him with one hand he guided his erection to her cleft with the other, then had a fleeting moment of concern.
She might look delicate, but she was not. She’d escaped her stepfather. Had held her own when he’d stopped her from killing the Godseeker with her arrow. She’d overpowered demons. Her air of innocence was part of her protection. She was confident and fought for what she wanted.
As she clung to him her breath came in small ragged pants, and when she looked at him he saw raw, undisguised hunger in her heavy-lidded eyes. He touched the tip of his erection to her opening, feeling her dampness, and could not contain a low growl of need.
“I want you,” she said, her voice husky.
That was all the invitation he needed. He thrust upward and she gasped, her tightness clenching around him like a fist. He dared not move, not even to withdraw. Resting his forehead against hers, he struggled to breathe.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Are you—”
“Don’t.” Determination gleamed in her eyes as if she prepared for battle. “I need a moment, that’s all.”
She started to move her hips against his a moment later, and he moved at her pace, stroking himself inside her as gently as he could, until her quick breaths turned to quiet cries of pleasure.
It became impossible to think of anything but the physical sensations she aroused in him. Slow tremors of release built inside her—he could feel them mounting, rippling along his erection until he groaned aloud with anticipation. He cupped her smooth buttocks in his hands, thrusting with greater intensity, and felt the heat of her release when it came. He shuddered, his own quickly erupting in response.
He held her close, steadying them against the cave wall until her shivering stopped and their breathing grew normal. Sweat-slickened skin glistened in the faint light. For a moment, neither of them spoke, and Blade couldn’t tell if her silence meant regret. But then she opened her eyes, pale blue, glittering diamonds shining with faint surprise and intense satisfaction.
“Raven,” he began, then stopped as the world shifted around them without warning.
They were no longer in the cave in the boundary. They were back in the desert, fully clothed, as if they had never left.
Except night had passed. The dull sting of a thin cut on one arm, and the remnants of spent lust ebbing from his groin, also told him the evening’s events had not been a dream. He couldn’t pretend that their lovemaking hadn’t happened. Somehow, he had to deal with its aftermath, whatever it was.
He braced her unconscious, rag-doll body between his thighs, her head on his arm as he crouched in the grove of yucca and sage. The sounds of the awakening desert were audible in the cold, calm morning.
He had been her first. She had been even more of an innocent than he’d thought. Somehow, in the back of his mind, when he had heard the villagers speaking, he had assumed Creed was her lover. Guilt rippled beneath his skin and in his throat, leaving a poor taste in his mouth. His assumption and subsequent actions made him little better than the Godseeker who had tried to possess her by force.
He would be lying to himself, and to her, if he pretended it did not matter to him that she was half demon. It was not something she could easily overcome or that he could readily forget. But she had not tried to lie to him or pretend to be anything other than who she was. He could not make the same claim. He had long known he lacked moral fiber—killing came too easily to him—but he had not realized until now how low he had sunk, or that he could prey on an innocent—half demon, or not.
He had been in a position of trust. She had deserved far better from him.
I will not apologize to anyone for what I am.
She was beautiful and strong-willed, a survivor in two worlds—neither of which were kind to women. They would not be kind to the opposing sides of her nature—demon and mortal—either.