The Darkest Secret (Lords of the Underworld #7)(39)
Author: Gena Showalter

Wasn’t like he could use the other demons, either. They’d experienced the opposite reaction when he touched her, shrieking and scrambling for a new hiding place.

Behind him echoed a light patter of footsteps, then the rustle of clothing. He wanted to watch Haidee dress. He was desperate to see those curves again. Al of her curves this time. Through the white cotton of her bra, every bit of fabric drenched, he’d seen those firm br**sts crested with rosy ni**les perfect for sucking. And those matching panties…

His spine went rigid as another hot blistering wave of need savaged him. Between her gorgeous legs, at the apex of her thighs, she’d had a little tuft of hair slightly darker than the flaxen mass above. He’d almost dropped to his knees, almost dove in and feasted, shoving those unwanted panties out of the way and tasting the essence of her femininity. Gods, he remembered the sweetness of her.

Knew the heaven that awaited him.

He needed to think about something else before he cut the tether of his control and fel on her and took her. He couldn’t take her. As he’d promised her, he would not al ow himself to touch her again.

He blanked his mind. There was one thing guaranteed to piss him off and keep his hands to himself. Her tattoos. Just the thought had him biting his tongue until he tasted blood.

In the shower, he’d gotten a peek at the travesty that was her back, and each marking had turned portions of his desire into boiling rage. If any part of him had ever doubted who she was, the tattoos there convinced him otherwise.

She kept score, Baden’s death proudly etched into her flesh. And the four Hunters the Lords had supposedly kil ed? He didn’t know, but he would. How he would acquire the information when her secrets were her own, he didn’t know, either. But again, he would.

Perhaps he’d seduce the information out of her.

Seduce. Instantly, his mind and body returned to lusting after her. Seducing would involved touching.

Perhaps his “no touching” vow had been premature.

Real y, why handicap himself? He should have her. Often.

As many times as the urge struck him. Until he obtained the answers he craved. Until he worked her from his system.

Until he realized that she hadn’t cal ed him baby while he’d held and cleaned her because the endearment was clearly reserved for her precious Micah.

Red suddenly dotted Amun’s vision, just as it had done in the shower when she’d spoken the bastard’s name, and he drew in a deep breath. Hold…hold. Slowly he pushed the oxygen through his nostrils.

Micah could very wel be a descendant of his, as Haidee had said. The idea intrigued him. He’d never thought to have a blood-related family. However, the idea of that blood-related family being his enemy, wel , that he didn’t like. Wasn’t like he and Micah could sit down and have a heart-to-heart, either.

Besides the good versus evil thing, there was Haidee.

They both wanted her.

Amun should have taken her in the shower, despite her fragile protests, and pounded the worst of his emotions straight into her. And those protests of hers had been fragile. So fragile he could have bent his head and blown on the hammering pulse at the base of her neck and her reasons for denying him would have snapped beyond repair.

There were no doubts in his mind that she’d hungered for him, too. Her pupils had been blown, her lips parted as she’d struggled for air. She probably hadn’t realized that her nails had sunk into his pecs the moment she’d flattened her trembling palms on him, fingers curling, some part of her desperate to be connected to him, eradicating al hint of distance.

The action, smal though it was, had been a claiming, and he’d reacted violently. Not that he’d shown her. That boiling rage had been his only link to sanity.

Over the years he had pampered the few women he’d been with, and given them what time he could, as wel as attention and fidelity. Even when they hadn’t given him the same—and had then tried to hide their actions from him.

As if they could. But he liked seeing a female light up because of his special treatment. He liked knowing he was the cause of their happiness.

He knew his friends considered him calm, without a temper. Normal y he was. But when he looked at this woman, this supposed enemy, this unexpected savior, something hard and primal seethed inside him, knocking at the door of his restraint. He felt like a godsdamn caveman, wanting to carry off his woman and hide her from the rest of the world. Wanting to put his body between hers and anyone who dared threaten her. Wanting to tie her to his bed, keep her there forever, keep her ready for him.

Wanting to soothe her even as he ravaged her.

The desires were dark and sultry, insidious as they snuck past his defenses and wrapped around his every cel , changing the very fabric of his being. He was Amun no longer, but Haidee’s man.

That title was not something he could tolerate. Not for long, at least.

Stil . He was on the right path, he decided. If he had her, he would tire of her. How could he not, when she was who she was? And when he tired of her, when the newness of her touch and taste and scent wore off and he no longer needed her to beat the demons back to maintain his good sense, he could do his duty and slay her. But until then…

He would just have to continue protecting her.

The rustle of clothes died, and he pivoted on his heel, facing her. A smart man would never have given an enemy his back in the first place. But then, a smart Lord would never have al owed a Hunter to live long enough to dress.

Haidee stood by the side of the bed, arms hanging at her sides, her hands empty. His gaze raked her, and he told himself the perusal was necessary, that he needed to check for hidden weapons. The pink T-shirt and jeans she had donned belonged to Gwen, another petite female, but stil they bagged on little Haidee. Despite her feminine curves, she was too thin.

Irritation joined his other emotions. Over the past however long Strider had been in charge of her care, the warrior had most likely given her enough food to survive. No more, no less. She’d probably lost pounds she hadn’t been able to spare. That would change now that Amun was in charge.

Causing needless suffering wasn’t his style.

She had toweled off her hair as best she could, but stil the blond-and-pink locks dripped onto her shirt, wetting the material covering the delicate frame of her shoulders.

“What now?” she asked in her raspy voice.

She hadn’t shifted under his scrutiny, he realized. She had stood stil , al owing him to look his fil .

Perhaps she’d studied him, too, because tiny flickers of the mating heat had returned to those distracting eyes.