The Darkest Whisper (Lords of the Underworld #4)(39)
Author: Gena Showalter

“Your skin…” he repeated.

She didn’t need a mirror to know that without the grime, she glowed. There was a translucent sheen to her that made her look like a freshly polished opal.

Tentatively, as though in a trance, Sabin reached out. His fingertip traced her jawline, dipped to her neck, between her br**sts. She didn’t back away. No, she stepped forward. Closer. Craving more. Unable to stop. Goose bumps broke out, and all thoughts of resisting him vanished.

“Smooth and warm and luminous,” he whispered reverently. “Why do you hide—” His teeth pressed together and the reverence mutated into anger before her eyes. “Men can’t keep their hands off you, can they?”

A lump formed in her throat, preventing her from replying. She shook her head. What would Sabin do and say next? He changed moods faster than anyone she’d ever met. Touch me.

But he wasn’t done with his line of questioning. “Do your sisters have skin like this?”

“Yes.”

“All Harpies?”

“Yes.” Hopefully he was finished now.

“Have you called them?”

Nope. Not done. “Not yet.”

“You’ll do it the moment we leave this shower. I want them here, in this fortress, within the week.”

She gaped at him, shocked to her core. She was naked, her skin at its most alluring, and he wanted to speak of her sisters? To meet them? Why did he—the answer slid into place and her shock faded. Of course he wanted them here. He probably thought they’d help him with his war. Or maybe he wanted a harem of Harpies.

Something dark and powerful bloomed in Gwen’s chest. Something poisonous. It caused her nails to elongate, the Harpy to screech and her teeth to sharpen. Red spotted her vision.

“You’re angry.” He blinked in confusion. “Why?”

“I’m not angry.” I will kill you if you try and bed them.

“You’re gripping me so tightly, my palm is bleeding.”

Part of her registered that he didn’t sound upset or frightened. The rest of her was still too furious to admire his courage under fire.

“You want to sleep with my sisters,” she snarled. Snarled? Her, Gwendolyn the Timid?

He rolled his eyes. “No, I want my friends to sleep with them.”

She blinked just as he had done, not under…standing. Oh. Oh. All of her fury drained as swiftly as her shock had, leaving the sweetest sense of pleasure. If his friends were occupied with her sisters, they would leave Gwen alone. Was Sabin that possessive of her?

“Were you jealous?” he asked, as though the prospect intrigued him.

“No. Of course not.” That was not information he needed, could be used against her, and in this instance a lie would absolutely serve her better than the truth. “I was…thinking of Tyson, wishing I was with him.”

Sabin’s eyes narrowed, but through the thick shield of his lashes she could see the brown irises edging with crimson. “You will not think of him. Do you understand? I forbid it.”

“I—okay.” She didn’t know what else to say. Never had Sabin looked more capable of murder. But why wasn’t she scared?

However feeble her response, it seemed to pacify him. “I’d already decided to mark you.” There was determination in his tone. Determination so cold and hard she doubted a blade could cut through it. “But this…” His gaze swept over her body. “By gods, I’ll mark you every day if I have to. You will only ever think of me.”

“Wh-what do you mean, mark me?” Mark, as in slash? Punish? Now she had no problem backing away. And what did he mean, every day? How much did he expect her to endure?

His hand whipped out, fingers curling around her wrist and dragging her back. “I’m going to sink my teeth into that pretty skin, gently, but enough to leave an imprint.”

Once again her fear drained, leaving only white-hot thrums of wicked bliss. It had been so long. So long since a man had held her, made her feel cherished and special and hot enough to writhe against him.

“Do you want that?” he asked softly.

Did she? Hell, yes. She might not know who she was anymore, but she did know her body hungered for this male. Could she allow it, though?

Time to find the logic. Sabin was strong, immortal and claimed he could handle anything she dished. She was strong enough to enjoy him and stay distanced. She hoped. The “marking” would keep the other warriors away from her. And it was nice to feed the Harpy what it wanted once in a while so that it, in turn, would behave.

Logic achieved.

Before she could form an answer, however, Sabin’s nostrils flared as if he could already smell her desire. “If anyone else touches you, they’ll die.”

He was willing to hurt his friends for her? Lord, just the thought melted her.

Slowly, he tugged her forward, not stopping until her ni**les brushed the strength of his chest. He moaned.

“Your demon—”

“Will be kept on a tight leash, so no worries. Now. Choose.”

She didn’t have to think about it anymore. “Yes,” she said breathlessly. Gulping, she reached up, twined her arms around his neck, pressing her wet body against his. “You don’t have to worry, either. I’ll be careful with you.”

“Please don’t.” He swooped in, his mouth taking possession of hers. It was not the soft, one-sided kiss from the plane. This was consuming, raw, his tongue plunging inside, participating, deep and hard and demanding a response. She gave it to him, helpless to do otherwise. One hand tangled in the dark silk of his hair, the other kneaded his back, probably leaving marks of her own.

Don’t lose yourself completely. The warning blasted through her mind. Enjoy, but stay focused. The Harpy was purring, happy with what was happening, wanting more, more, more. But when Gwen commanded her breathing to slow, her body to still, to accept Sabin’s touch, to enjoy but nothing more, those purrs turned to growls. More, more, more.

Sabin gripped her chin and angled her head, prying her mouth open even wider, refusing to allow her to withdraw, even slightly. Their teeth banged together with the force of his next thrust. Though she groaned, he didn’t pull back. Didn’t soften. On and on the kiss continued, until she was breathless, shaking, arching into him, moaning, groaning again, ready to beg for more just like the Harpy.

For the second—third?—time she tried to distance herself, to calm her body so that she didn’t fall too deeply under his spell.