Page 64 of Thirst
Her mouth slackened like she’d expected me to deny it. Then her eyes squeezed shut, her face a mask of fury.
I braced myself for the explosion. The Nyx I knew was fiery, emotional.
When her eyes opened again, vampire-blue rimmed her irises. She didn’t explode though. She accused.
“I wondered why you wanted me. You’re a lieutenant—you could have anyone you want. But you never wanted me at all, did you? Not me, Nyx. You wanted Nazaire’s spawn.” She practically spat the last two words at me.
I scowled, stung. “It wasn’t like that. I would’ve wanted you no matter whose spawn you were.”
Her lips pulled into a scornful smile. “Yeah, right.”
Now she was pissing me off. The woman was in my fucking head, night after night, and she thought I didn’t want her?
“Did I seem like I didn’t want you a few minutes ago? Because my cock was damn hard for a guy who was faking it.”
“You’re a vampire. You’re always ready.”
I growled. “Don’t twist this. I wanted you. Every fucking time. And you weren’t pretending either, love.” My voice dropped, cold with the hurt I refused to show. “You were more than happy to take it anyway I wanted to give it to you.”
Nyx’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. Then she visibly gathered herself, pushing off the wall and slipping around the cot. She sauntered forward, hips swaying in the tight black pants, and stopped an inch from me. So close, when she drew a slow inhale, the tips of her nipples brushed my chest like a dare.
“Do you want to give it to me now, Lieutenant?” She toyed with my collar, sending me a look from beneath thick lashes. “Maybe you want to punish me. Would you like that? I’ve been a bad girl, haven’t I?”
I knew she was messing with me, that she was angry, that she was out to wound me any way she could. My dick didn’t know it, though. It pressed against my zipper.
Yes, please.
The gods knew, I ached to take her up on her offer. To pin her to the stone wall and grind into the heat of her pussy until she begged me to let her come.
And then I’d peel her clothes off and show her what I did to bad girls.
“Nothing to say?” She undid the top two buttons of my white shirt.
When she pressed a kiss to my throat, I drew in some much-needed oxygen and reminded myself that she wasn’t the one in charge here.
“Enough.” I thrust my fingers into her thick curls and tugged back her head.
She met my eyes, not a trace of fear on her face. I felt an unwilling flicker of admiration. Not too many dhampirs could hold my gaze.
Her fingertip traced from the hollow of my throat to the top of my sternum. “You don’t want me to stop. You want to fuck me—don’t you?”
Hell, yeah.
I dipped my head, unable to resist nuzzling that tender spot beneath her ear that always made her moan. She did it now, a sexy whimper that made my balls tighten to the point of pain.
I moved lower, nipping her throat, dragging my tongue up the side of her neck. She must’ve washed up in the sink, because she smelled of the plain bar of soap, a clean note on top of her own, familiar earth-and-sage.
I inhaled deeply. Without my wishing it, my other hand closed around one firm ass cheek, urging her up against me. My knees bent so I could press my aching dick into the notch of her thighs.
But even as I licked and kissed my way to her mouth, I was looking at the cell out of the corner of my eye. I’d made it a little more comfortable, but it was still a prison cell.
In the castle’s dungeon.
And me? I was the man who’d put her there.
Even if she did want this as much as she seemed to—and I was ninety-nine-percent sure she did want it now, even if this had started as an attempt to either punish me or coax me into letting her out of the cell—I’d still be crossing a line if I took this any further.
A bright, flashing red line.
