The Darkest Whisper (Lords of the Underworld #4)(62)
Author: Gena Showalter

Her head fell back, the ends of her hair brushing his chest. Reaching up, he cupped and kneaded her br**sts, applying a little pressure to arch her backward. She complied, anchoring her hands on his thighs.

“Turn around,” he commanded roughly. “I want your blood.”

Perhaps she hesitated too long—what exactly did he want? Had she heard correctly? He palmed her knees, lifting, and spun her. His c**k remained inside her. When she was facing the other direction, away from him, his fingers curled around her neck and drew her down. Her back to his chest. His teeth were in her neck a second later, and she was spasming, screaming at the bliss.

He didn’t suck her long, just enough to experience his own orgasm, hips hammering up and into her, one hand flat on her stomach to grind her against him. Nothing compared. Nothing was as wild, as necessary, as liberating. She and the Harpy soared through the heavens, lost in the pleasure of another climax.

An eternity passed before she collapsed, fully and completely spent, unable to breathe. Her chest was too constricted. Sabin’s inhalations were choppy, as well, his grip on her now weak.

The Harpy was quiet, had quite possibly passed out. Gwen didn’t roll off him, even though she wanted to pass out, as well. She’d been fighting sleep for so long, restful sleep untainted by pain and injury, but now it was creeping up on her, determined to consume her.

She lay exactly as she was, head cushioned by Sabin’s neck, his arms wrapped around her, his shaft still inside her. Stars winked in front of her eyes—or maybe it was the sun dancing between the clouds.

What they’d just done…the things they’d done…

“I didn’t rape you, did I?” she asked softly. Her cheeks burned. Without the cloud of lust, she admitted that she’d been jealous, attacked him, and had decided to have sex with him whether he wanted it or not.

He laughed. “Are you kidding me?”

“Well, I was kind of forceful.” Her eyelids were so heavy she blinked—closed, open, closed—and then they refused to open again, as though they were glued together. If her sisters found her asleep, they’d freak out. They’d be disappointed in her, and they’d have every right. Had she learned nothing from her capture?

“Actually, you were kind of perfect.”

Words to make her melt. Instead, she stiffened, still fighting with all her might to remain awake for just a little longer. Anytime she and Sabin relaxed together, no anger between them, Doubt usually pounced.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, suddenly concerned.

“I was waiting for Doubt to try and tear me down.” Were her words truly as slurred as they sounded to her? “You say something nice, and he’s knocking on my door to point out why you’re wrong.”

Sabin pressed a soft kiss into the side of her neck. “He’s afraid of your Harpy, I think. She comes out, and he goes into hiding.” Joy and awe had entered in his tone there at the end, as if he’d reached some sort of decision with those words. But what?

“Someone afraid of me.” She grinned slowly. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me, too.” He stroked between her br**sts, his index finger grazing a nipple. “Do Harpies have any weaknesses I should know about?”

Yes, but to admit it was to court punishment. Her sisters would cut her off as her mother had; they would have to. It was a rule that couldn’t be broken. Lethargy fragmented her thoughts before she could reason things out. She yawned and settled more snugly against him, fading…still struggling…

“Gwen?”

A soft entreaty, but it pounded through her mind, and she grabbed on to it like a life preserver. “Yes?”

“I lost you there for a moment. You were telling me about a Harpy’s greatest weakness.”

Was she? “Why do you want to know?”

“I want to make sure you’re protected so no one can use it against you.”

Good idea. I can’t believe you’re actually considering this. But this was Sabin, the man who’d just kissed and touched her everywhere. The man who wanted her strong, invincible. And she didn’t like that she had such a weakness, either. It was how the Hunters had subdued her, though they had never realized exactly what they’d done. It was what flooded her with worry every time her sisters decided to hire out their services.

“You can tell me,” he said. “I won’t use it to hurt you. I swear it.”

Once he’d admitted to forsaking his honor if it meant winning a battle. Would he forsake this vow? She sighed, sinking further under the blackness. Stay awake. You have to stay awake. This came down to one decision: to trust him or not. He desperately wanted her to help destroy his enemy. No way would he jeopardize that by betraying her.

“Our wings. Break them, cut them off, bind them, and we’re powerless. That’s how the Hunters got me. They didn’t know it, but when they wrapped me in that blanket to abduct me, they paralyzed my wings, thereby weakening me.”

He squeezed her tight. In comfort? “Maybe we can design something to protect them, something that still allows them to move freely. But you’re also going to need to train with them bound. It’s the only way to…”

His voice faded completely, the darkness thicker than ever. Lord, she’d done so many bad, bad things this last hour. She’d given him her body and snuggled in as though he were a comfortable couch. Harpy rule: always leave afterward.

If she fell asleep, Sabin would have to carry her out of the forest, past her sisters, who would see her zonked out and vulnerable, just as she’d feared.

I’m a failure in every way.

“Don’t…let…them see,” she managed before sinking into oblivion.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DON’T LET THEM SEE…what? Sabin wondered as he gathered the sleeping Gwen in his arms. A mewling sound parted her lips, soft and oddly erotic. He tightened his grip, feeling oddly protective.

Don’t let the Lords see her naked body? Done. He would rather die than allow another man a peek at her beauty.Don’t let her sisters see her like this? Again, done. They would ask questions he wasn’t ready to answer. More than that, they tended to react negatively to the thought of Gwen snoozing. Why? It still made no sense to him.

Another mewl, this one quieter, breathy. His stomach clenched in desire, because it was a sound she’d made while grinding on his erection. The sun stroked her, highlighting the glimmer of her skin, her rosy ni**les. Her hands were folded over her belly, her body loose, her head resting trustingly at the base of his neck. Strawberry curls tumbled over his arm, his stomach, and it felt as if he were draped in silk.