Archangel's Shadows(99)
He closed his eyes, shuddered. “I’m too selfish when it comes to you, cher, to try to convince you otherwise.”
Ashwini rose on tiptoe to run her lips down the stubbled edge of his jaw. “Good,” she whispered, her body humming at the proximity of his.
• • •
Stepping into Ash’s apartment after the too-fast elevator ride that hadn’t given his spinning head and thundering pulse any time to settle, Janvier took his time in removing his jacket and dropping it on the back of one of her sofas. She did the same thing before leaning down to unzip and pull off her ankle boots. He hunkered down to take off his own boots, then watched as she walked to the glass wall that looked out at the city.
His heart felt bruised tonight, but he’d rather be nowhere else than here, with her, with his lover. Be doing nothing else than loving her, living a lifetime in a heartbeat. When his phone buzzed, he almost didn’t look at the message, but Ash turned and in her face he saw the reminder that, no matter what, the victim had a prior claim on their attention.
“Khalil,” he told her after scanning the details, “appears to have settled in for a night of public debauchery at Masque. Emaya and Mateo couldn’t get in, but a Tower vampire named Trace was already inside when Khalil went in, and he reports that while Khalil is currently indulging his appetites on the glass platform, he’s booked out a more intimate ‘playroom’ for the night.”
“Does Masque have security protocols to protect guests in the playrooms?”
“Adele’s security monitors all the rooms via a live feed.” He met her gaze. “This monster appears locked up for the night, and we’ve heard nothing back from the computer teams tracking the victim’s identity. I think, cher, the night is ours.”
She held out a hand.
Beyond her, the falling snow blurred the hard edges of New York, made the Tower in the distance a smudged beam of light and the other buildings luminous shadows. It was the perfect background to silhouette her beauty, her resilient strength in the face of impossible odds. When he reached her, she led him into the privacy of the bedroom, the world beyond locked out the instant she closed the curtains over the balcony doors.
He’d dreamed of this moment for an eon, and now that it was here, he felt like an untried boy with his first woman. “Are you sure?” He couldn’t bear for her to regret this.
Her eyes pierced him, owned him. “Oh, yes.” One hand moving to caress his nape. “Touch me.”
It hit him then. She was so self-assured, handling his flirtation with ease and giving back as good as she got that he’d never before thought about what her ability demanded from her sexually. “Cher.” His fingers trembled as he cupped her face.
Lips quirking, she closed her own hands over his wrists. “Don’t worry, sugar.” A tease in her voice, though her pupils had expanded to turn her eyes into pools of darkness into which he could fall forever. “I might never have been able to stand to touch anyone enough to get naked with them, but that doesn’t mean I’m an innocent.”
“I don’t know what to do,” he said, lost and shaken and enslaved.
“If you try to convince me you’re a virgin”—narrowed eyes—“I’m going to get out my crossbow.”
26
Stroking his thumbs over her cheekbones, he shook his head. “It’s you.”
Her hands tightened on his wrists, and then she slid one hand back around to cup his nape and draw down his head. His own hands fell to her waist. She was the one who kissed him, explored him, coaxed him.
He’d been seduced many times in his long lifetime. In every instance, he’d known exactly what was happening, had allowed the seduction as part of a game in which both parties had been well satisfied. This . . . he had no control of it, was her instrument to do with as she pleased. Trembling, he sank into the kiss, into the feel of her hand stroking over his nape, her mouth playing with his.