She could see the evidence of that truth in the crackling sparks of amber that were lighting in the deep sapphire of his irises. She could see it in his dermaglyphs, which surged with dark colors across every muscled inch of his torso and arms, the intriguing swirls and arcs of the glyphs’ pattern changing hues before her eyes.
And if all of that weren’t enough, she could see his intent in his aura, which formed a smoldering glow around him now, confirming the astonishing fact.
Lazaro Archer wanted her.
No sooner had the thought entered her mind than he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. Her breath was already shaky and thin, but as his mouth pressed against hers, her lungs dried up on a slow moan. The kiss was tender, careful, no doubt meant to console or soothe her.
It did both, but it also inflamed her.
Heat raced through her at the feel of his mouth on hers. She didn’t want to feel it—not now, not when her heart was breaking over the loss of her father and fear still held her in a firm grasp.
But Lazaro’s arms were stronger than any of that. His gentling, but arousing, kiss made her melt against him with a desire she could hardly reconcile.
And he broke away much too soon for her liking.
His Breed pupils had narrowed to the thinnest vertical slits. And when he ground out a vivid curse, the tips of his fangs gleamed white and razor-sharp.
“Fuck.” He let go of her. “That shouldn’t have happened. I apologize.”
“Don’t,” she murmured, her voice a raspy whisper. Desire was singing through her veins—uninvited, maybe, but too powerful to be denied. “I didn’t mind, Lazaro. I...liked it.”
“Christ, don’t say that.” He blew out a harsh breath, then drew back from her as though she had scorched him too, and not in the good way he’d ignited her. “You do not want to say that to me, Melena. For the good of both of us.”
He got to his feet in abrupt, stony silence. As he stood, she noticed that the gash in his thigh was still bleeding. While he’d been looking after her these past few hours, he’d neglected his own injuries. He seemed oblivious to it, walking over to examine a comm unit that lay on a nearby rock. He shook the device, swearing as water dripped out of it.
“That wound on your leg needs attention, Lazaro.” He was Breed, Gen One besides. She knew his body would heal itself, but even a vampire needed help sometimes. “You need to feed soon.”
“Is that an invitation, Miss Walsh?” The comm unit clutched in his fist, he snarled down at her, baring his teeth and fangs. God, they were huge. Terrifying, and he damned well knew it. His aura seethed as menacingly as the rest of him. When she shrank back a little where she sat, he gave a dark chuckle. “No, I didn’t think so. Smart girl. Do us both a favor and don’t concern yourself with what I need.”
His anger confused her, almost as much as his unexpected tenderness of a moment ago. And the fact that he wanted to push her away when he was the only reason she was alive right now kind of pissed her off too. She stood up, refusing to be cowed by his bluster.
“Why shouldn’t I be concerned? You just saved my life—for the second time, in fact. So, forgive me if that makes me care about you just a little bit.”
When he scoffed and took a long stride away from her, she followed after him. When she put her hand on his shoulder, he rounded on her with a hiss. “Just because you’re alive, doesn’t mean you’re safe with me. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m some kind of hero.”
He didn’t give her the opportunity to reply. On a furious glower, he pivoted to stalk toward the mouth of the cave. “Stay put. I’m going to see about sending a signal and getting us out of here.”#p#分页标题#e#
Melena watched him prowl out into the darkness, his kiss still warming her lips and his harsh words ringing in her ears.
Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m some kind of hero.
Didn’t he know? She’d been thinking of him that way for most of her life.
CHAPTER 5
One of Lazaro’s comrades showed up less than an hour later to retrieve them in a big black SUV. Melena had hardly been introduced to the Breed warrior who drove them—a towering male with a mass of loose golden curls and a dimpled, quicksilver smile that instantly softened his strong, square-cut jaw. She thought he’d said his name was Savage, but in her opinion, he looked more like a fallen angel. If fallen angels wore combat patrol gear and bristled with blades and heavy firearms.
The warrior seemed already aware of who she was and how she’d come to be in his Order commander’s company, although he didn’t so much as try to ask. It was obvious from Lazaro’s menacing silence during the ride to wherever they were heading that conversation with her was neither welcomed nor encouraged.