Adam’s fingers were busy, too. Soon, my bra joined the tank top on the floor and he lowered his head to lavish my br**sts with his own form of worship. He grabbed my hands, held them over my head in playful bondage. But soon, the pull of his hot mouth against my sensitive skin had me writhing, yearning to touch him, too.
He pulled away only to allow me to lift his shirt over his head. As he returned for more, I ran my hands over his broad shoulders, enjoying the way his muscles danced. I wanted to push him over and climb atop him. To let my hands explore his skin while I watched his eyes glaze over with passion. But I knew better than to try to take control. Ever since New Orleans, he’d been skittish about the slightest bit of sexual dominance from me. It would be too easy to indulge my bloodlust if I had him pinned to the mattress.
Instead, I took his face and pulled him up for another kiss. While our tongues tangled, his fingers slid down my stomach, dipping into my navel, before continuing south. He caressed me gently at first, then faster, firmer. I pushed my hips toward him, needing more than his finger inside me. He recognized the signal and pulled back so I could help him out of his jeans. His sex sprang forward, eager for my touch. I wrapped my hand around the heat and guided it home.
The first thrust forced groans from both our throats. He bent over me, entering me with both his tongue and his sex. The dual sensations sparked a new need in me. One I knew better than to indulge. I pulled my mouth from his and bit my lip. He didn’t seem to notice the withdrawal. Instead, he pushed up on his arms and thrust deeper, harder. Each movement brought me closer to the edge of both pleasure and pain. The pleasure of release. The pain of self-denial.
The need to taste his blood grew until my head rocked restlessly on the mattress. My fangs cut deep into my bottom lip. The taste of my own blood bloomed on my tongue. But it wasn’t enough. The hunger would never be satisfied with anything less than Adam’s sweet blood.
But the refusal to indulge my hunger heightened my other senses. The feel of pressure building in my core. The smell of Adam’s sandalwood and hot male scent. The sight of Adam’s face flushed and determined to bring us both to release. The sound of his panting breaths mingled with my moans.
Adam lowered himself to my chest, his hands wrapping my legs around his hips. I cradled him there, squeezing with my thighs and meeting his thrusts with my hips. He didn’t try to kiss me. He knew the temptation to feed would be too strong to deny. Instead, he buried his lips on my throat, sucking and licking the sweat from my fevered skin. Harder now. Faster. Close, so close.
My stomach muscles ached with the exertion. My fingernails dug into his back. His slick skin glided against mine with delicious friction. Until… yes, yes, yes! The pressure reached its apex and I plunged into the void.
Adam thrust faster, faster until, finally, he joined me there. He reared up, every muscle taut, as he screamed his release.
I finally floated back into myself. Wrapping my arms around his sweat-slicked back, I held him to me, enjoying the weight. Yet, I kept my face averted from his until my fangs finally withdrew, unsatisfied.
The dream was different his time. His body fills the opening of a dark portal. In the small room, the blue light flickers against rough stone walls. I spin around, looking for another way out.
Even in the dim light, his green eyes shine like emeralds.
“Sabina.” My name spills from his lips like a prayer. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Suddenly, I am afraid. I never should have come here. My mouth opens to scream for help, but the words clog in my throat like glass shards.
“Lamashtu,” he breathes. “Do not fear me. We are meant for each other.”
The cave swirls around us like a cyclone. The rocks dissolve and painted walls rise in their place. Now I am strung up, my arms tied over my head. Bruises throb on my cheeks. Blood coats my chest from the wounds at my wrists.
“Come to me,” he demands. “Submit.”
“Never.” I raise my chin despite the pain. “I will never submit.”
He moves closer, gliding across the floor like a specter, though he is flesh and bone. I can smell the rage on him. Feel the heat of his wrath on my skin. “Let me go!”
He smiles sadly. “I can’t.” He touches my face gently. “Why do you make me hurt you?”
“Let me go,” I say again. This time the words are a plea. I hate him even more for making me beg.
Cain raises his gaze to mine. His eyes are unfocused, crazed. “You belong to me.”
He lifts the dagger high. The metal flashes in the light. His hand swoops down. I wake gasping and covered in sweat.
19
The next evening, Adam had to report at the Crossroads for a meeting with the other Pythian Guards about security for the Imbolc festival. Meanwhile, Giguhl and Georgia were about to head out to Vein for a practice session. Since the first Roller Derby match was the next night, Giguhl wanted to be sure the Manhattan Marauders were ready for prime time.
Before they left, Georgia seemed more chipper than I’d seen her in days. When I asked her why, she smiled broadly. “Mac called last night and said she’s made some progress with Michael.”
My brows rose in shock. “Really? That’s great.”
“Yeah,” she said, and nodded. “She didn’t have too much time to talk but said she’d fill me in at practice.”
“You better talk to her before,” Giguhl corrected. “Because by the time I’m done with your asses, you won’t have the energy to talk.”
“In that case we better get there early.” Georgia rolled her eyes and pushed the demon toward the door. “Let’s go, coach!”
After everyone left, I decided to head to Maisie’s apartment to check up on her and try to make some progress with her about the dream incubation. Time was running out before the festival, so I needed to step up my campaign.
When I reached the door to her apartment, I knocked twice but didn’t hear an answer. Just when I was about to turn and go look for her elsewhere, a loud crash sounded inside the apartment. The door was unlocked and I didn’t hesitate to rush inside.
Running through the apartment, I mentally prepared myself for anything. Probably the crash was nothing to worry about, but that didn’t stop my heart from kicking up a couple of notches. Especially when the scent of blood reached me.
I skidded to a halt in the doorway of Maisie’s bedroom. “Maisie,” I called, pushing open the door. When I saw what waited for me on the other side, I froze.