Burning Dawn (Angels of the Dark #3)(50)
Author: Gena Showalter

Her narrowed gaze sizzled at him, even as blood leaked from the corners of her mouth.

“Do not speak to my human again,” he told her.

After sending Adrian to find Bellorie, Thane stepped out to see Elin. Only to watch a guard grip her fragile wrist.

No one touched her but Thane. Anyone tried…they died.

When did you become so possessive of a female?

When I encountered this one, apparently.

He met her smoked-glass gaze and remembered Orson’s use of the word halfling. Please, don’t be Phoenix.

He closed the distance. Perhaps he should send her away for a few hours. He was always seething with intensity after battle or torture, and he’d just come from both. If he went about this next encounter the wrong way, he would scare her. But she lifted her chin with brave determination, surprising him, and a deep sexual awareness cut through his fury and fear.

He couldn’t send her away.

For a moment, he saw her as she’d been in the tub. Naked. Flushed with heat and arousal, ni**les turgid, stomach quivering, legs parted for his fingers. Even now his shaft readied for her, growing long, thick and hard.

Not yet.

A tremor rocked her, as if her body reacted to his of its own accord.

“Are you cold?” he asked, just in case. “I will have a robe fetched for you—”

“I’m not cold.”

Did she hunger for his touch? His taste? He would give anything to know.

“I’m, uh, sorry I interrupted your murder session.” She reached for him but balled her hand just before contact and dropped her arm to her side. “You, uh, seem to really be enjoying it.” Her gaze landed on the bulge between his legs, before darting away.

He clenched his jaw. “I didn’t enjoy it the way you’re thinking.”

“Hey, no judgment,” she said, palms out in a gesture of innocence.

“Elin. I’m aroused, yes, but it’s for you.”

Her eyes widened, some of the smoke replaced by crackling flames. “Oh.”

That was all he got?

“Yes. Well.” She cleared her throat. “Do you have to torture the Phoenix? Can’t you let them go?”

“I wasn’t torturing a Phoenix,” he said. “But I will. Soon. An eye for an eye—”

“Puts you in a never-ending cycle of violence, yes,” she interjected. “They’ll retaliate, then you’ll retaliate again, and so on and so forth.” She sighed. “Look, I know I didn’t have any right—”

“You have every right,” he said, and knew he’d just shocked the listening vampires. But it was true. Why deny it? Things were different with Elin. Things had always been different. He liked that she’d sought him out, expecting him to fix her problems. He even liked the scolding she’d just given him—maybe because she was right.

She nibbled on her bottom lip, as though unsure. Of his reaction? As if he would harm her? “Really?”

He nodded. Then, with his eyes still locked on Elin, he snapped, “Leave us” at the vampires.

The pair rushed to the elevator without delay, disappearing behind the doors. He wouldn’t take Elin to his suite until she felt safe with him. Because, when he got her alone—anywhere other than here—he would pounce on her. He knew it.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this world,” she remarked.

As if he would allow her to leave it. “You will.” A command he expected to be obeyed.

She shrugged. “Does it affect you emotionally, to torture others?”

No one had ever asked him such a question, and he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He’d been a young lad of three when the gold striations had appeared in his wings, informing him and everyone who looked at him of his warrior status. At the age of five, he’d left the only home he’d ever known to begin his training.

At ten, he’d made his first demon kill.

Elin reached out and twined her fingers with his. Her skin was warm and soft, though calloused. The freely offered contact—the comfort of it—stunned him.

“Never mind,” she said. “You don’t have to answer.”

He did anyway, desperate to prolong the connection. “Demons are evil, with nothing good in them. With them, and the centuries of our battles, I regret nothing.”

Her head tilted to the side as she studied him. “How old are you?”

“Old.”

“Over two hundred?”

“Yes.”

A gasp. “Over three hundred?”

“Yes. Let me save you some time. I am a little over a thousand.”

“Wow. That’s, like, really old.”

“Just as I said.”

“No, Grandpa. You left out the really.”

His lips twitched at the corners. She’d teased him; she wasn’t afraid of him. “Come. We have much more to discuss.”

He ushered her into the elevator. When the doors closed, sealing them inside, the scent of her filled the confined space and enveloped him; he could almost taste the cherry flavor he knew was embedded in her skin. His body ached.

He didn’t want to wait to pounce.

He pushed a button and stopped the elevator before it reached the upper floor.

He turned to her and leaned against the railing. Whatever she saw in his expression made her gulp. She backed away from him, trying to move out of reach, but he caught her by the wrist and tugged her close, between his spread legs.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” she said, breathless, “take another route.”

“But I like these thoughts.” He leaned down to run his hands up the backs of her thighs, cup her bottom and squeeze, making her gasp. Then he pinned her against the railing and braced his palms beside her temples. He wanted so badly to rub the hardest part of him against the softest part of her and barely managed to hold himself still. “Tell me. Are you ashamed of what we did in the tub?”

“Ashamed? No.” Her gaze held his, unflinching, letting him see the fire banked in those smoked-glass eyes. “But…”

“But?” he insisted, suddenly hating the word. “Why did you run?”

“A lot of reasons,” she hedged.

“Start with one. We’ll work from there.”

“Okay, fine. Number one, guilt. I’d just betrayed my husband.”

As he’d suspected. Confirmation was sweet. “Was the male—”

“Bay.”

“Was he cruel? Would he want you to remain alone?”