“Does that mean you are happy it occurred?”
Wasn’t this leading the witness? Oh right, they weren’t in court. “I would have preferred other circumstances.”
“Such as?”
“Such as you not being engaged.” Ha! There, couldn’t argue with that one.
“Valry and I are no longer Intended.”
Back the truck up. “What? When… How? Really?” Eloquence, thy name is Larissa Miller.
He studied her for several moments, and then he smiled.
He smiled.
A full-blown grin such as she had never seen on him. Happiness radiated from him in a way she’d never experienced before, and how was she supposed to respond when the sight was frying the synapses in her brain?
He advanced, walking toward her with a predatory grace he’d never displayed before. “You seem pleased by that news.”
Who was this gargoyle? He had always been reserved, almost courtly in his bearing before, not this magnetic, determined animal stalking his prey. And by his direct stare, there was no doubt that his prey was her.
Since he was advancing, what else could she do but back up? “I need more details before I decide how I feel.”
“What type of details, little human?”
“The usual – what happened, any chance of reconciliation, are you returning the engagement gifts?” Her back hit the wall and he was leaning over her, not allowing her any more movement.
He studied her, his eyes intense, almost scary in how focused they were on her. “What do you feel, Larissa?” and gods knew, she would admit to about anything if it meant that he kept saying her name in that exact voice.
She didn’t know why he was no longer engaged, whether it was because of her words or some other reason. But it was time to move forward. If these last few weeks – hell, last few hours – had taught her anything, it was life was uncertain, and you needed to grab hold of the chances you were given, all the outside forces be damned.
His alien, beautiful face was right by hers, every line and plane as familiar as her own. A face she dreamed of belonging to a male she longed for. She reached up, stroking her finger over the grey skin. “I don’t regret a moment of what’s happened to me, because I found you in the middle of it all.”
His head reared back inches, shock and hope and gratitude mixed together in his expression. He cupped her face, tilting her head back. His lips were warm with the right pressure, demanding she open to him without bullying her on it.
This was connection, soul-deep and scary in how right it was. His wings came around her, wrapping her in an embrace more consuming than any that only consisted of arms. Those wings brought them together, sinking skin into skin, and even that wasn’t nearly close enough.
“Your lips are so soft,” he said, pulling back the tiniest bit, as if parting hurt him. “All of you is so soft.”
He didn’t take her mouth again, but pressed his lips against the underside of her chin. With exquisite leisure he made his way down the side of her throat, only moving further after every inch had been explored.
She groaned. “Terak, what are you doing to me?”
He loved her breathy voice. He loved everything about her, but he especially loved she was now in his arms. “Do not humans enjoy this?” He licked her pulse point, the texture of her skin under his tongue a wonderful sensation. “Or this? Shall I tell you what gargoyles enjoy, little human? What a male will do when he has a female in his arms that he has dreamed about since the first moment he saw her?”
Her breathless “Show me” almost dropped him to his knees. Instead, he stepped back and pulled her shirt from her pants, ripping the front and scattering buttons. “I hurt every time I left you. You had me wanting, and it felt as if I would never be at ease again.”
Her smile had an edge. She liked the torment she had put him through. “I need to make that up to you.”
His clawed fingers traced the edge of lace on her bra. It was blue, the same blue of her eyes, and it offered her up to his mouth those plump, mouth-watering mounds. “Wearing this, Meyja, is apology enough.”
He leaned down, his tongue tracing the edge of the lace. Her head fell backwards, offering him access to what he desired. “I love your tongue. I love how warm you are.” She shook her head, as though trying to clear it. “What does Meyja mean?”
Coward he might be, but he wasn’t ready to tell her yet. He could not chance her feelings not being the same as his, or worse, that they were, but she could not go against her family to accept him. “I will tell you after we defeat our enemy. This way you will have something pleasant to obsess over in the coming days.”