"Safe?" she retorted.
Her skin was sheer silk beneath his touch, stirring his muscles to a painful hardness.
"Dull," he managed to mutter.
"Comfortable."
"Tedious."
"Prudent."
"Dreary."
She abruptly nipped at his roaming finger, sending a jolt of pure lust to his toes.
"Maybe we should just agree to disagree," she said, her green eyes smoldering with a dangerous fire. "I prefer my life far more peaceful, with as little danger and violence involved as possible."
Styx cupped her cheek. He couldn't deny that a part of him was strongly attracted to her gentle soul. It was an irresistible solace after centuries of endless brutality. But he was nothing if not a realist.
Alone in the world this woman was a victim waiting to happen.
Actually, it was amazing she had survived relatively unscathed for so many years.
"It is a beautiful life, angel, but there are very few who possess your tender heart," he said softly. "You need someone to keep you safe."
The green eyes slowly narrowed. Styx wasn't at all certain that was a good sign.
"You think I can't protect myself?'" Darcy demanded.
He suddenly felt as if he had fallen into a hole he didn't even recall digging.
"I think you would sacrifice yourself before harming another," he warily admitted.
"I don't need a sword, or dagger, or gun to defeat a vampire." Without warning, she stepped closer and placed her hands flat against Styx's chest. He hissed sharply as she boldly began to explore his clenched muscles. "There are all sorts of weapons that are far more fearsome."
"Angel . . ." His voice choked off as she leaned forward to flick her tongue over his hardened nipple.
"Yes?"
By the gods. His arms whipped around her and he pressed her fully against his aroused body.
She had made her point. He was well and truly defeated by this tiny slip of a woman.
"Dangerous weapons, indeed." His arms tightened. "But I had better be the only vampire you are using them upon."
She chuckled at his fierce tone. "Since the other vampires look at me as if I'm something they found stuck to the bottom of their shoes, I think I can safely make that promise."
Styx was shocked by the unexpected, dark emotion that clenched his heart. Possession. There was no other word for it.
"Perhaps I should make clear that I mean all demons, humans, fairies, and creatures in this world, or any other."
She tilted her head to regard him with a searching gaze. "That's very ... inclusive."
"Completely and totally inclusive."
Her lips twitched, as if she found something amusing in his unnerving reaction. But before he could protest, her head had once again lowered and her lips were skimming over his healed chest.
"So you don't want me doing this . . ." Her fingers trailed tantalizingly down his stomach to the waistband of his pants. "Or this ..." With a tug she had the button opened and then pulled his zipper down. Styx gave a strangled groan as her fingers softly curved around his hard cock. "To any other man?" She stroked him from bottom to top.
Styx buried his face in the sweet curve of her neck. "By the gods, you are lethal," he rasped, silently adding that he would kill any man she touched in such an intimate way.
There didn't seem to be any need to trouble her pacifist soul with that thought.
"I did warn you," she breathed.
She had. But her warning hadn't included her lips brushing his ni**les, his sternum, the small depression running between his abs, and then shockingly she was on her knees and her mouth closed over the tip of his erection.
His fingers threaded through her soft curls as she impatiently tugged down his pants and her hands cupped him with a knee-buckling touch.
"Bloody hell, angel."
Ignoring his strangled words, thank the gods. Darcy pulled him deeper into her mouth. His eyes closed and his fangs fully extended at the feel of her tongue tracing over the head of his cock.
Nothing had ever been meant to feel so good.
So damnably good he was certain he could die in that moment with a smile on his lips.
Groaning as she squeezed and licked him with an enthusiasm that threatened to bring a swift end to his shocking pleasure, Styx struggled to keep the climax at bay.
He had claimed that danger made him feel truly alive.
It was nothing—nothing—compared to this.
And he wanted it to last more than a handful of blissful strokes.
"Angel . . . enough," he groaned, lowering himself until he was on his knees before her.
She smiled with smug pleasure at the sight of his extended fangs and darkened eyes.
"You don't like?" she teased.
"I like too much," he breathed, his hands running down the curve of her back until he could grasp the bottom of her sweatshirt. With one smooth motion he ranked it over her head. "Now, it's your turn."
He could hear her breath catch as he tugged free her bra and at last cupped the soft mounds of her br**sts. Thank the gods he didn't have to worry to breathe, he acknowledged as heat burst through his body. How could a man remember such tedious things when confronted with such beauty?
With tender care his thumbs brushed over the tight peaks of her ni**les, his fingers savoring the curve of her br**sts. He had touched countless humans before, but never had he been so intrigued by the texture of mere skin.
Just like warm silk, he realized in fascination. Warm silk with a faint tingle of pulsing life that made his every instinct roar with need.
Perhaps sensing his odd bemusement, Darcy slid her hands up his bare arms to his shoulders.
"Styx?" she questioned softly. "Is something wrong?"
He leaned his head down to press his forehead to hers. "Each moment you are near, I forget everything but you," he confessed in a husky tone. "If I could lock the doors and keep out the world for the rest of eternity 1 would, just so we could be alone."
Her fingers slid over his shoulders and down his back. "And that troubles you?"
He groaned, his lips skimming down her slender nose and brushing over her mouth.
"Not nearly as much as it should."
Unwilling to brood on his strange obsession with this woman, Styx claimed her mouth in a hungry kiss, his tongue slipping between her lips. In this moment he was ready and willing to forget about the world, and the responsibilities awaiting him outside the door.
His duty would find him sooner or later.
He wanted it to be later.
Much, much later.