A Little Night Muse(43)

                His arm behind her shoulder tightened for a moment. “Let me get                     that skillet first.”

                When he returned from the kitchen, she threaded her fingers                     through his and led him to the bedroom. With careful hands, they stripped each                     other naked, avoiding her burns and his slashes, then he guided her into the                     shower. They left the light off, and the stars through the skylight turned the                     steam to liquid silver.

                She bit her lip as he gently cleaned her burned hand and then                     pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

                “You hurt yourself to help me,” he murmured.

                “Actually, it was Wolly who was in trouble,” she reminded                     him.

                “You hurt yourself to help my dog,” he amended. “Should I admit                     that makes me love you more?”

                Her heartbeat stuttered. Love? “Josh...”

                He kissed her. “Don’t worry about it. Not your fault I fall for                     impossible women. My ex-wife only wanted to live in a real city. But you, you’re                     a damn fairy princess. You probably live in a castle.”

                She did not correct him on the fairy princess part, nor did she                     try to dismiss his comment about falling. She was musetta. She existed to inspire passions.

                In silence, she cleansed his wounds, taken for her. Imps were                     vile but not toxic, and Josh’s coat had protected him from the worst of the                     damage.

                No, she was the phae who would hurt him.

                They anointed each other with the last of the salve she had                     brought. Then she led him to his bed and into her body, trying to give as much                     of herself as she could. Though what did she really have? She had come into his                     world carrying only a few spores and her intent to betray his friend. She would                     leave only a withered toadstool ring and more emptiness around him.

                For his part, he played her with an almost cruel gentleness,                     rousing her to a fierce wanting she thought would tear her apart. He teased and                     stroked her to the edge of release, his tongue and cock finding every aspect of                     her pleasure. Each time, he drew back, leaving her panting and longing, only to                     provoke her higher until she could take no more. With a cry, she arched into                     him, convulsing around him. He plunged into her with abandon, and she almost                     hoped he had all but forgotten her in his own fury until she looked up and found                     him staring down. She came again with his name on her lips, but before she could                     say more—what she intended, she had no idea—he kissed her and shuddered into her                     depths.