When the fabric hit the floor, there was a clank. He arched a brow in question.
"Razors," she said, chin lifting in challenge. "Check if you want. Maybe I'll luck out and you'll cut yourself."
"Typical vampire. Desperate for my blood." If only she would have lied. He could have punished her. Perhaps made her bend over for a spanking. He did enjoy giving those. "Were the razors for me? Did you plan to mar my pretty face?"
"I carry them with me everywhere I go, moron, and I never said you were pretty."
"I'm exquisite, then. Come now, you can't deny it," he added when she opened her mouth to protest. "Your hard ni**les speak for you." Or spoke of the coldness of the room, but whatever. "Tell me, have you ever cut someone with them?"
"My ni**les?"
He barely managed to hide his grin. Imp. "No. Your razors.”
“Yes." She'd sounded offended that he'd had to ask.
Adorable. He enjoyed her more with every second that passed. "Who?”
“Like I remember all their names."
"Did you do it for sport or defense?" Not that he cared. He'd bedded sadists before. Had actually gone through an all-sadist-all-the-time phase. No longer were they his favorite type, though. He'd grown tired of the hitting and the biting and the scratching. Blah, blah, blah, boring. But as he'd already decided to have this woman no matter what, he'd man up and endure if she needed to hurt him to climax. "Well?"
Her chin lifted another notch, and she stared down at him through the exotic fringe of dark lashes. "None of your business."
"Hint taken. You don't want to talk, you want to finish stripping. Well, who am I to argue with a determined woman? Stand and take off your pants. They're too binding anyway."
She was on her feet, tugging at the stretch pants, and growling low in her throat a second later. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."
"We'll work on our communication later." For his own amusement, he forced her hips to wiggle as she slid the tights to her ankles. White panties, plain but the perfect match to her bra. Nice. Unexpected. He would have bet a Sweet Munchkin on red lace. He liked the innocence of the white, though.
"Enjoying yourself?" she snarled.
He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair, then rested his chin in his hand, one finger rubbing over his jaw. "Very much so."
Once again her eyes followed the motion of his fingers. He almost smiled. Imagining slicing him or kissing him?
"Have you slept with Aleaha?" she asked.
"No. I just discovered her. Would it bother you if I had?"
"No." She ran her tongue over her wonderfully sharp teeth. "I don't care who you've been with because I'm never going to be among their numbers. I just didn't want to think of my friend heartbroken over the likes of you."
"The likes of me. What a sweet thing to say, as I know you meant that in the very best sense." He reached behind him, pulled his shirt over his head, and tossed it aside. "Have you slept with Nolan?"
Her mouth dropped open, her gaze zeroing in on his new tattoo, then his ni**les. They were small and brown, perfect for licking. Or so he'd been told. When her focus lowered to the ropes of muscle lining his stomach, then his navel, she gulped. The reaction pleased him because for once, he didn't
have to wonder what thoughts were dancing through her head. Just then, she wanted him. "No answer for me?" he asked huskily.
"I, uh, what did you ask me?"
Keep looking at me, pet. Keep wanting me. "If you'd slept with Nolan.”
“Oh. Well, I already answered that earlier."
He knew that, but repetition was the best way to catch a lie. To his consternation, she switched her attention to just over his head. And not his favorite head, either. Determination pulsed from her.
"Better him than you, though," she said.
If he were a lesser man, he might have crumbled at that point. Being shot down for a dying, contagious criminal ... it was disgraceful. "Just so you know, his disease is really another life form, an otherworlder a part of yet separate from him, who will invade your body if given the chance, turning you into a cannibal if you fail to infect others. That would mean I'd have to kill you without enjoying you, and I really want to enjoy you."
"First, Nolan explained that to me. Second, I've never been sick. And third, do you always give little Devyn what he wants? Even when the girl in question isn't interested?"
"What a silly question. The girl is always interested." But no one had ever fought it like Bride. Well, except for Eden, but he suddenly couldn't recall why he'd desired her. "Now be a good girl and walk over here and sit on my lap."
The muscles in her legs bunched and strained as she struggled against his mental hold. And for a moment, she actually managed to remain in place. She shouldn't have been able to do it, no one should have, but he would be lying if he said her strength didn't make him proud. All too soon, his will prevailed and she was gliding toward him. Sweat beaded on her skin, glistening like diamonds in the golden lamplight. "Pretty," he said.
"You're a bastard, you know that?" she choked out as she stopped just in front of him.
"Wrong. My parents were mated when I was conceived." And considering his father's dislike of nakedness and arousal, it was a miracle he'd been conceived at all. He'd wondered over the years if his father really was his father. With the number of lovers his mother had had—lovers the king had not been able to keep out of the queen's bedroom, no matter how hard he'd tried— anyone male could have created him. "Now sit."
Finally Bride was there, resting on his lap, her ass pressed against his thigh. He craved deeper contact. Did she? "Place your hands on my chest and straddle me."
The heat of her palms nearly scorched him. And when her knees were anchored to the back of his chair, her legs riding alongside his, her panties hovering just over his straining erection, he moaned. His hands settled on the flare of her hips. How perfect she was, smooth and pale like cream.
"I'll kill you for this," she said.
As her gaze was glued to the pulse at the base of his neck, her words slurred as her tongue pushed against her fangs, her pupils dilated, and her expression hungry yet somehow soft, the threat lacked true menace. "You'll kill me with pleasure, is my bet." Just to see what she'd do, Devyn released his mental hold on her hands. She didn't shift them away, but continued to gauge the erratic rhythm of his heart. "I hate to break it to you, pet, but the fact that you want to kill me that way isn't a surprise. I suspected. Bet you're even damp right now."