Her brows lifted. “Was that a compliment?”
“A statement of fact.”
“Ah.” She wrinkled her nose. “I suppose that’s the upside of playing Sleeping Beauty.” She blinked, as if hit by a sudden thought. “Of course, with Marika dead and Sergei missing, I suppose the spell to keep me from aging is gone.”
A strange pang of unease clutched his heart at the mere thought of Kata growing old . . . dying.
“There are means for humans to stay young.”
She shrugged. “That’s actually at the very bottom of my Worry List.”
“What’s at the top?”
“Laylah.” She said it without hesitation, her first thought for her daughter despite the fact that she was currently trapped in hell with no certain means of escape. “I’ve always been able to sense her, but now there’s some sort of interference between us.” She bit her full bottom lip, her expression troubled. “She could be hurt and I wouldn’t even know it.”
His hand cupped the back of her head, his chest tightening with the oddest urge to . . . what?
Offer her comfort?
Impossible. That’s what humans did, not demons.
But there was no halting the need to lower his head and brush his lips softly over her mouth.
“Marika’s dead,” he found himself saying softly. “That has to be a good sign.”
She gave a hesitant nod, her heart picking up speed at his light caress.
“Yes.”
His gaze drifted downward, lingering on the swell of her br**sts that spilled over the neckline of her nightgown. He swallowed a groan as he hardened with astonishing speed.
“Not to mention that Laylah’s in the protection of one of the most powerful and ruthless vampires in the world,” he continued, his voice thickening. “There are few things that could hurt her.”
“That isn’t entirely comforting,” she said dryly.
He jerked his head up, a frown marring his brow. “You have a prejudice against vampires?”
Her magnificent eyes narrowed, her expression revealing just what she thought of his hint of outrage.
“Can you blame me?” she demanded. “I was tortured for the past four centuries by a vampire. It didn’t inspire a lot of warm fuzzies for your people.”
Uriel considered being annoyed.
He was the one who was supposed to be heroically overcoming his aversion to a woman with intimate ties to a Jinn while she was supposed to be melting in gratitude at his daring bravery.
Instead, he threaded his fingers through her hair, his other hand lifting to cup her cheek.
“She hurt you.”
Her eyes darkened with unwelcomed memories. “She enjoyed causing pain.”
“Not all vampires are like her.”
She shivered, but Uriel sensed it was not entirely due to her thoughts of Marika.
“I hope not, for Laylah’s sake,” she said, her breath catching as Uriel skimmed his hand down the curve of her cheek.
“And for your own?”
Her lips parted in unconscious invitation, a tiny pulse fluttering at the base of her throat.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she husked.
He leaned forward, absorbing her sweet scent as he allowed his lips to explore the tender slope of her shoulder.
“I can sense your . . . need.”
Kata stiffened at his blunt words, even as she knew the scent of her stirring arousal was no doubt blatantly obvious to Uriel. If she’d learned nothing else during her captivity, it was there was no hiding anything from a damn vampire.
Just one of the countless reasons they were so annoying.
“What you sense is a woman forced to be alone in a cramped cell for the past two centuries,” she futilely tried to bluff.
He lifted his head to flash an arrogant smile. “No, you desire me.”
“After two centuries of celibacy I would desire a filthy, rotting zombie . . .”
“Me,” he growled, moving with a liquid speed to pin her against the mossy ground. She made a sound of surprise, but before she could react he was blatantly rubbing his fully erect c**k against her lower stomach. Oh . . . yes. Sheer pleasure jolted through her. His smile widened at her soft moan of approval. “You want me deep inside you.”
Blessed mother, she did.
Could anything be more insane?
He was a vampire. They were trapped in hell. And he was precisely the sort of arrogant bastard that set her teeth on edge.
She should be punching him in the nose, not smoothing her hands over the sculpted perfection of his chest. But damn...
Even with her hatred of vampires she couldn’t ignore the impact of his astonishing beauty, or the knowledge that he’d risked his life more than once to protect her.
And then there was that burning, aching, ruthless need.
It wasn’t just the loneliness that plagued her, no matter what she claimed. Or the random lust of a woman who’d been without sex for a very, very long time.
No, this gnawing desire had started the moment she’d first laid eyes on Uriel. And as much as it pissed her off to admit it, he was the only one who could ease her torment.
Dismissing the countless reasons this was “the worst idea ever,” Kata skimmed her hands upward to frame his beautiful face, drowning in the velvet heat of his gaze.
“Uriel,” she breathed.
Stark hunger flared through his eyes. He lowered his head and nuzzled a path of destruction down the curve of her throat. Kata quivered, squeezing her eyes shut at the erotic feel of his fangs scraping against her tender flesh.
Oh . . . goddess.
She should be terrified by the threat of those enormous weapons so close to her veins, but instead she lifted her hips to rub against the hard thrust of his cock.
Uriel groaned, his fingers easily tugging down the straps of her gown and stripping it from her willing body. Then with the same swift efficiency he shed his own clothes, tossing them aside before cupping her br**sts in his hands, his thumbs teasing her ni**les to tight beads.
Kata kept her eyes tightly closed, basking in the sensation of the warm sunlight that spilled over their entwined bodies and the soft moss beneath her back. Illusion or not, she’d been trapped in that dark, spartan cell for centuries. The sense of being free and returned to her beloved homeland was nearly as heady as the feel of Uriel’s gentle touch.
She sucked in a sharp breath as his lips traced the line of her collarbone and then over the curve of her br**sts, swiftly revising her thoughts.
The sun and illusion of freedom were delightful, but Uriel’s touch . . .