“Only that she was a siren. It’s not like Mammon ever kept records on the women he kidnapped and abused.”
“I still can’t believe that the Council would let one of its own scientists get away with kidnapping and raping women in the different dimensions he visited. And didn’t he murder Keegan’s mom?”
“They needed him enough that they were willing to overlook the evil things he did. It wasn’t until he tried to go against the Council that its members turned against him.” He let out a hoarse chuckle. “Never let it be said the Council isn’t fucked up to the core.”
“Just another example of how royally fucked up we all are.” She shook her head against the sense of horror and unjustness his words elicited. “Sometimes I wonder what the purpose is to going on with life.”
Anger flashed in his eyes, making them hot and hard, and he lifted a hand to her cheek. “Don’t say that. Never give up.”
She found herself leaning into the crackling heat of his palm, her eyes fluttering shut so she could concentrate fully on the warmth of his soft skin. When was the last time she’d ever willingly let anyone touch her?
Not since Sara had died.
Almost as if he’d read her mind, Dagan spoke. “When are you going to tell me about your past, Lina? Your daughter? When are you going to open up?”
Her eyes flew open, and she jerked away.
“I can’t.” It was too painful. Just the thought of Sara flooded her body with so much sorrow and anguish she feared it would shut down.
“You’re going to have to face it one day, you know. Otherwise you’ll never move on.”
He was right. Of course he was. She’d never truly come to terms with Sara’s death…and her role in it.
“I know,” she found herself whispering. “Just…I need a little more time.”
Dagan nodded, and his beautiful turquoise eyes darkened, pooling with an emotion she couldn’t—or was too afraid to—identify. He lifted his hand toward her again, but this time he grasped the back of her neck and, ever so slowly, pulled her toward him. Giving her the opportunity to refuse the kiss she knew was coming. But she didn’t want to.
Right now, she didn’t want to think at all.
When his lips met hers, brushing in the slightest caress, her body exploded with desire. Almost as if he felt the same burst of passion, he suddenly crushed her to him, wrapping his arms around her and sliding his fingers under the hem of her tank top. She moaned at the cacophony of sensations buffeting her body and rose to straddle him, pressing him back against the couch. He was hot and deliciously hard, the length of his erection pressing into the fabric of her jeans. That secret spot between her thighs ached to feel his heat, and suddenly she regretted changing out of the simple T-shirt and panties set she’d slept in.
“Wait,” he said, the sound practically muffled by her lips.
“No.” She slid her tongue between his lips to savor his muted flavors of whiskey and spice. And his body—he smelled like the ocean right before a rainstorm. She never would’ve thought that scent to be so arousing, but on him it was. For one second she wondered what Thorne had smelled like.
She couldn’t even remember.
When she slipped her hands under Dagan’s shirt, he let out a gasp that contracted the muscles in his stomach with delicious intensity. The heat of his flesh was like a delicious blaze against her fingertips, threatening to burn her whole. She glided her palm up to his chest, reveling in the pummeling beat of his heart. He wanted her just as badly as she did him. There was no mistaking it.
Dagan let out a loud groan and grasped her shoulders, pulling her away from him. “We can’t.”
“Why not? We’re both unattached,” she said, making a valiant effort to stare into his eyes, rather than down at the hard, delicious length of him beneath his boxers. “It’s no big deal, just sex. And clearly we’ve both had it before.”
Hell, in many ways they might even be perfect for each other: a woman who was too afraid to love again, and a man who couldn’t stop loving, if only in the biblical sense. At least they each knew what they were getting into.
Dagan’s eyes drew down to her heaving chest, darkening with desire. He forced them back up with visible effort. “Me and you together wouldn’t just be about sex. It couldn’t be.”
He was right, and she couldn’t deny it. This wasn’t about indulging a physical itch. It was so much more. It was about starting to live again. About healing.
She lifted one hand to his face, shivering at the scratch of his stubble against her palm. “What about what we talked about last night? We can’t live in the past forever, Dagan. I don’t know what this is, but you feel it too. I know you do. And I think we owe it to ourselves to see it through.”