The Darkest Night (Lords of the Underworld #1)(47)
Author: Gena Showalter

Droplets of water fell from his eyelashes onto his chin. He wanted to brush them away, to see her more clearly, but didn’t want to move either of his hands. Air burned his throat, his lungs. "Tell me you want me." While I calm down.

"I want you," Ashlyn all but shouted. She stared down at him, as if she couldn’t believe they were having this conversation here and now.

"Tell me you need me."

"I need you."

"Tell me you’ll never betray me."

"I’ll never betray you."

At least she hadn’t hesitated. Something inside him softened, melted. "Where do you want to be?" he asked, the words almost a plea. Need me as much as I need you.

Maybe it was the water. Maybe it was the steam. Her eyes seemed to mist over, a curtain of vulnerability falling over her face. "With you," she replied. "Only with you."

Both man and spirit were staggered by the magic of her words. Humbled. Maddox again buried his face between her legs, tongue burrowing deeper than before. She sighed in ecstasy, one of her legs curling around his back. Her heel dug into his shoulder, but he didn’t care. Even liked it.

Her desire flowed down his throat as he nibbled on her. Couldn’t stop himself now. Was helpless against his actions. He didn’t want to hurt her, and neither did the spirit. For once in accord, both wanted only to pleasure her.

She reached the edge. Fell. The orgasm rocked her entire body. Her inner walls clamped down on his tongue, holding him captive in those gates to heaven. And when she shouted his name, he came. Hot seed spurted from him and onto the tub. His body jerked, muscles gripping bone in an iron clasp. Nothing had ever felt so right. Nothing had ever felt so perfect.

Seconds – minutes? hours? – passed. In that timeless eternity he became Pleasure. He wasn’t a being ruled by Violence. He was simply a man who craved this woman. A man who lived in a world where light always stamped out darkness and good always conquered evil.

If only…

When he opened his eyes, he was once again Maddox. Once again a man ruled by darkness, living in a world  where midnight always triumphed and evil laughed in the face of good.

He was still on his knees. Ashlyn was still in front of him. He could hear her panting rasps and realized he was panting himself. He stood, disconcerted to note his legs hadn’t stopped shaking.

Neither had Ashlyn’s. Her eyelids were closed, lashes in wet spikes. There was a blissful, satisfied aura surrounding her, but he couldn’t dislodge the sudden thought that he’d been too rough, that he could have been gentler. Tried harder.

"Please look at me," he said.

Like butterfly wings, her lashes fluttered open. Those amber orbs gazed up at him, and she nibbled on her bottom lip, expression uncertain. "Yes?"

"Did I hurt you?" Worse, "Do you regret?"

"No and no." She smiled that radiant smile of hers, sunshine in the tenebrous recesses of night.

"How are you still a virgin?" he asked, dazed.

Slowly, her smile faded. Embarrassment clouded her eyes, darkening the brown to a churning black tempest. "I don’t want to talk about it."

"Please."

She peered down at her feet, hiding the emotion, the storm. "I never should have told you to ask rather than demand. It’s irresistible!"

He would have to remember that.

"Maybe I should have told you earlier, before we… But…"

His stomach pitched. Should he want to hear her confession, whatever it was? Yes. Did he? No. Not now. He turned the water off and crowded her against the tile. He couldn’t predict the spirit’s reaction to being told this lushly beautiful creature had conspired against him. "Ashlyn – "

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "Hear me out. Just promise not to hate me, okay, and try to understand that I can’t help it." Pause. Shuddering breath. "Here goes. You’re not the only one possessed by something you can’t control. I hear voices. When I stand in a spot where a conversation has taken place, I can hear every word that was uttered, no matter how much time has passed." Her eyes landed anywhere but on him as she spoke.

Maddox listened, shocked to the core. She hadn’t admitted to Hunters or gods or a vendetta against him, but to voices. He knew, deep down, her words were not a lie. They were too complicated and too easily disproved; true Bait would have opted for something less refutable. More than that, what she described made sense, fitting several pieces of last night’s puzzle together.

Which meant she had tried to protect him earlier. Not for any ulterior motives, but because she had wanted to. Amazement flowed through him. Amazement and relief and joy.

Now he understood why she hadn’t been too brokenhearted when he’d admitting to killing those men. Most likely, she hadn’t even known them. As he’d suspected, they could very well have hoped to capture her and use her ability to their advantage.

His fingers itched for a knife; he wanted to kill them all over again. Calm down. They still could have worked for her Institute, and she simply hadn’t realized it. No, that couldn’t be right. They would have made themselves known to her, for they’d been close enough to hear and see her.

"Why did you fear I would hate you?" he asked.

"I hear secrets," she whispered. "It’s hard to make friends, you know? The people who know what I can do want nothing to do with me and the people who don’t know can’t figure out how to deal with me."

The loneliness in her tone affected him deeply. He understood. But even he didn’t like the thought of her knowing – hearing – the violent things he’d done over the years. "What secrets of mine have you heard?" He tried to keep his voice light, but didn’t quite manage it.

"None. I swear." She gazed up at him with wide eyes. "When I’m around you, the world is silent."

She’d said that before. He recalled the expression on her face when he’d first approached her. Total bliss. She’d been savoring the silence, just as she’d claimed. The knowledge humbled and baffled him, yet underneath both emotions was an unshakable pride. He had helped her. He, who was unable to fight free of his own torment, had somehow released another from hers.

"You said you hear secrets. What have you heard about us?"

"I’ve already told you. Most townspeople consider you angels. Some consider you demons. But all of them are in awe of you."

"No plans to attack?"

"Not that I heard."

"Good." He splayed his hands around her waist, lifted and set her out of the tub. He climbed out beside her and palmed a towel from the cabinet. After wrapping it around her shoulders so that the material draped and warmed her, he grabbed one for himself.