The Darkest Surrender (Lords of the Underworld #8)(51)
Author: Gena Showalter

She would rub herself against him as she drank from him. He would moan, his hands settling on her ass to move her faster, harder against him. Soon that wouldn’t be enough, for either of them, and he would rip at her clothes. She would rip at his. They would be naked and—

Before she could swallow another mouthful of his blood, he jerked away, removing her fangs from his vein and severing all contact. “Enough,” he said, panting. “You’re medicated properly now.”

She’d been writhing on the bed, she realized, panting herself. Had been angling toward him, her legs parting, her core desperate for him. Gods, she was already wet, aching.

He stood, walked away. He stopped and turned. Then he faced her, propping himself against the TV stand. She sat up, trembling and hot, enjoying her first full view of him since she’d exited the bathroom a few minutes ago, having showered and changed into the fresh clothes Bianka had brought her. At that time, he’d already positioned himself at the edge of the mattress and had merely motioned her over.

She’d thought…hoped…but no. She’d reached him and rather than throw her down and conquer Kaialand, he’d tossed her down and fed her again.

As she studied him, she lost her breath. His pale hair shagged around his fallen angel face. His lips were red, as if he’d chewed them. A lot. He wore a black T-shirt that read I Heart William.

“William gave it to me,” he said with a shrug, noticing where her gaze had lingered.

Just hearing William’s name made her snicker inside. The dark-haired charmer had a crush on her, and she couldn’t wait until he realized why she’d always turned him down. She’d probably laugh so hard she’d pee herself!

Anyway, she didn’t care about Strider’s T-shirt, but about the pecs underneath it. They were hard and well-defined, his ni**les slightly puckered—definitely lickable. At the shirt’s hem, she could see the bulge of his weapons, tucked into dark denim. That denim also covered the bulge of something else she’d really like to see, but whatever.

With only the slightest twinge in her side, she pushed to her feet. “I need you to be brutally honest right now,” she said.

Wariness cloaked his features. “Okay.”

“How pretty do I look?”

His gaze dropped, following the line of her body. She wore a red lace halter dress that veed in the middle, all the way to her navel. The hem stopped just below the curve of her ass.

Strider’s pupils did that expanding thing, almost always a prelude to touching. “You need to put on a pair of pants.” His voice was a croak. And he did not move toward her.

This was one of those times when “almost” sucked the big one. “Duh. As if I’d go out like this. I’ve got a pair…right…” She looked around. “There.” She stalked to the nightstand and lifted the “pants” in question. A scrap of red lace spandex that wouldn’t fall below her dress.

With a quick step, step, tug, she shimmied into the material and once again faced off with her consort.

His mouth hung open. “We were just sitting on the bed, together, and you were just drinking from me, your mouth on my skin, and you didn’t have any panties on?”

“You mean you didn’t look?” she said with a pout. No wonder he’d left her so easily.

“No. I wouldn’t let myself.”

“Why?”

“Damn it, Kaia,” he said, ignoring her. “You can’t just go around pantiless.”

“Which is why I just pulled on a pair. Were you not watching?”

His eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “You said pants. That you were putting on a pair of pants.”

“Yeah. Underpants.”

“Just…” He popped his jaw and extended his arm in her direction, waving his fingers up and down her body. “Where are you going to hide weapons in that thing?”

“Strider, please. Give me and my girls some credit.” She spread the deep V, revealing her braless br**sts, her ni**les flushed and beaded. Small, thin blades were strapped to her sides, just under her armpits. “We’ve been doing this since well before puberty.”

“Sweet Jesus.” A strangled sound left him as she adjusted her dress back into place, and she fought a grin. The more he resisted her, the more he was going to find himself the recipient of these little peep shows.

“Come on,” he said, voice husky once again.

She closed the distance and twined her fingers with his, happy with the contact. “Want to make out?”

“Sweet Jesus,” he repeated. Little beads of sweat popped up on his brow. “We’ve got plans. Remember? Big plans. We have to be somewhere.”

So blood-drinking hadn’t been the only thing on his agenda. But then, sex clearly hadn’t been added. “Where’re we going?” she asked, careful to cut the disappointment from her voice.

“You’ll find out.” After a quick perimeter check, he tugged her into the cool night air. First thing she realized was that they were still in Wisconsin. She hadn’t looked and she hadn’t asked. The moon was hidden behind clouds, casting pink and violet shadows in every direction. Snow covered the ground, trees stretching up…up…

“You cold?” Strider asked.

“Nah. This is nothing.” Besides, body heat radiated from him, enveloping her. “Any hint of Harpy or Hunter activity since I woke up?” Or hell, even for the two days she’d been down.

“No. We hid you pretty well.”

Even still, she kept her guard up. They walked several blocks before he stopped in front of a pickup and released her. Only took him three minutes and eighteen seconds to break in and gun the engine. She did not mention that she could have done it in two. His demon might view that as a challenge.

She merely said, “Good job,” as he threw the truck into gear and sped down the road. “Now, tell me where we’re going because I do not like surprises. Unless they involve a man waiting naked in my bed,” she added just to taunt him.

His grip tightened on the wheel and his knuckles leached of color. “I talked to your sister. Taliyah. We’ve got two days to get you ready for the next competition.”

Wait just a sec. “You’re going to train me?” He thought she was so terrible a fighter she needed a few pointers? Well, why not? she thought with a bitter, inner laugh. She’d disappointed him with her loss, and she had no one but herself to blame. That didn’t matter. Shock and hurt blasted her like poisoned darts. This was not the kind of memory she’d hoped to hoard.