When she had finally fallen over the edge, he'd felt like king of the universe rather than the king of his own world. Her eyes had closed, her lashes casting shadows over her cheeks, and her teeth had sunk into her bottom lip. she'd arched her back, sending him deeper inside her, and she'd clawed at his flesh, lost in the bliss. She'd panted his name, raspy and sweet, and it had felt like an embrace inside his ears. This time, her cries had not been laced with pain, so he'd relished them all the more.
Everything about her body pleased him. Her taste especially ...
Once he had thought he wanted to taste a Rakan more than anything else in the world because they were supposedly like honey. But who cared about honey when nirvana was available? He'd had Bride all over his face, down his throat, in his stomach, and it still hadn't been enough. Already he hungered for more.
What was he going to do?
He hadn't wanted another wife. He still didn't. But the fury was gone, and he did like the thought of having Bride in his house, at his beck and call. He grinned at that. Bride, catering to his every whim. As if she'd really do what he told her to do when he told her to do it. Contrary female.
So what was he going to do with her? What would happen when he tired of her or turned his attentions to someone else? And he would, he just knew it. He always did. Not that he'd ever wanted a woman this intensely. Or for this long. Bride would still need his blood. Would die without it now, if the information he had was correct.
"We've been laying here for, like, ever," Bride said, cutting into the silence. "I'm not a pansy like someone I know but out of courtesy won't name and in need of a nap. I just want to go home."
"For now, this is your home. And I am not a pansy. The nap was for your benefit." Of course, he ruined the boast by yawning.
She twisted in his arms, facing him. Her eyes were luminous, her lips soft and redder than usual. Strands of hair were plastered to her temple. "Sure you want to venture down that road of conversation right now?"
Meaning, she was going to argue about it. "Cut me some slack, sweetheart. I'm having trouble remembering my own name."
At that, she grinned, slowly but sweetly. "I don't know how you do it, Brad, but you're the only person on earth who can infuriate me one moment and have me laughing the next."
Brad indeed. "It's called animal magnetism, darling, and I have more than most.”
“Oh, please.”
“See. It even has you begging for more."
She slapped his shoulder, but her grin didn't slip.
Just then, it was as if they were friends as well as lovers. He ... liked it. Liked her relaxed and teasing. Too bad he was about to ruin the mood. "Want to tell me where you were mentally while I had my face between your legs?"
That pretty grin faded, and he suddenly felt like punching something. "No," she said, cheeks pinkening. "I don't. Do you want to tell me what happened to your first marriage? Not that you're married again," she added hastily.
At least she hadn't tried to pretend ignorance about her disappearing act. "We'll exchange information, all right? I believe you remember the rules."
At first, she gave no response; her gaze simply searched his face. Looking for what, he didn't know. Finally, she nodded. "No bullshit about ladies first. This was your idea, so start talking."
"Fine. My wife." The shrew was his second least favorite subject. The first, of course, was his father. "We were betrothed at birth and married at the age of fifteen. We—she'd been raised to view sex as dirty, so we didn't get along. I left her." A glossed-over version, but the truth just the same, and easier to say than he'd expected. "Now it's your turn."
Moaning, Bride flopped to her back and threw her arm over her forehead. "You wanted to know where I was mentally while you were ... you know." She sighed. "Well, you've been with a lot of women."
"I've never tried to deny it," he said as dread slid into his veins. He could guess where she was heading with this, and it didn't bode well for him.
"Well, I was feeling totally inadequate. How could I not, well, wonder how I compared to the others?"
Yep. His sigh mirrored hers. He'd gone through this with a few others, and he'd laughingly told them that no one compared to them. They had been words to soothe, to delight, and to move on to the loving. Here, now, he didn't want to utter such a claim. For once, he feared he might actually mean it. And if she realized that he meant it, would she then assume their marriage was forever? Probably.
He couldn't let Bride wallow in feelings of inadequacy, though. That would be cruel. When have you ever cared about being cruel? He just liked her confident, he told himself. She was more fun that way.
"You confuse, fascinate, irritate, and delight me," he said, "and I swear to God the only thing I was thinking about while tasting and touching you was you."
A moment passed as she absorbed his words. She raised her chin and hooked her arms behind her head, raising one leg to study her onyx-painted toenails. "Well, of course you were only thinking of me. I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you."
That's my girl. "I guess I proved that by marrying you." Now why had he said that? She snorted. "We aren't married, moron."
"Yes, we are." Stop, stop, stop. "Why don't you tell me what you did for a living before scoring a sugar daddy?"
Another snort, but once again she twisted into him. This time she rested her head on his shoulder and began circling one of his nipples with her fingertips. "Are you sure you want to know?"
"Yes."
"I stole, okay. I wasn't lazy or anything," she assured him. "I was just afraid to take a job and spend time around humans. One, their smell sometimes makes me sick, and two, I was afraid they'd notice the differences in me, start to question what I was. Three, I believe I've mentioned that the sun is uncomfortable for me."
"Are you any good at stealing?”
“Hello. I'm the best."
"Guaranteed you aren't better than me, but do continue with your story.”
“You steal things?"
"The hearts of women across the universe. Ow!" There at the end, she had pinched his nipple. "No more of that, or you'll owe me a new one."She kissed it better, and he had to press his lips together to stop his groan. "I started stealing full time to feed Al— Macy," she said. "She was just a kid, left on the streets like a piece of garbage. I'd never needed food, but she did, so I learned to get it for her. I'd done some stealing for myself throughout the years, clothes, shoes, that sort of thing, but time hadn't been of the essence, so I'd never really honed my skills. I just waited until an opportunity presented itself. With Macy, I couldn't wait and I wasn't always successful. Had a few run-ins with the law until I learned the best methods. After we were separated, I kept it up so I wouldn't be rusty when she returned. And well, I liked owning pretty things. What about you? What kind of childhood did you have?"
"I was pampered," he said, each word measured. He prayed she left it at that. Not even Dallas knew about Devyn's parents, about the humiliating time spent inside that darkened cell. About his shame.
She gave his nipple another kiss. "That tells me nothing. Pampered doesn't mean happy."
No, it didn't. But that kiss, so sweetly offered, without any demand for repayment, soothed the bleakness of his memories as nothing else ever had. Even sex. "I was also ... repressed." Okay, that was enough of that. He quickly changed the subject, least he crumble and tell her everything. Would she be horrified if he did? Agree with his father that he was a bad, naughty boy in need of neutering? "How often do you need to feed?"
"To maintain top strength, I need to feed once a day, but I've gone weeks without eating before. Well, without eating a full meal."
And she'd starved. That would not happen again. Not while she was with him. "You'll feed once a day, and that's that."
"You won't be able to keep up. Who could? So I can—"
"Hell, no, you won't," he interjected. "I'll keep up," The thought of her drinking from anyone else roused the beast inside him. The thought of her enduring hunger pains because she didn't consider him able to give her more had the beast roaring. "Besides, you can't keep anyone else's blood down."
She huffed. "That's not true. I told you, the first sips are absorbed before I sicken."
"Don't even try it, Bride." His teeth were so clenched he had trouble getting the words out. He might not want forever from her, but he damn well wanted right now. "I swear to you now, I will kill anyone you drink from." Before she could comment, he sat up and tugged her with him. "We need to shower. Come on."
He stood, pulling her alongside him. Thankfully, she didn't protest. He linked their fingers and ushered her toward the stairs.
"We should put some clothes on, at least," she muttered halfway up. "Why? We're alone. I gave the servants the day off." Her eyes widened as she peered up at him. "You have servants?"
"We have servants, and yes. Eight of them." They were all Arcadians, given to him by Kyrin en Arr. "Have you slept with any of them?"
The question had held simple curiosity rather than anger. Did she not mind the thought of him with others? He popped his jaw. He'd just threatened to kill anyone she drank from, yet she couldn't rouse a spark of jealousy?
"I'd never had an Arcadian before, so I took four to bed the very first week I moved in." She laughed. Actually laughed. "God, you're a slut."
Seriously. Where was the jealousy? Why hadn't she demanded he fire the women immediately? "You're okay with that? Me, with four different women, one after the other? Women who still live in this house with me?"
"Why would I care? You're not sleeping with them now. Knowing you, you're already tired of the race. And as we already agreed, I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you."
Maddening, that's what she was. "I'll give you a tour later." She didn't deserve one now. At the top of the staircase, he veered right, passed the first four doorways, and stopped at the end of the hall. A quick thumbprint ID, and the last entrance opened. "This is our room."
Bride gasped when she stepped inside, and he bit back a smile. Just the reaction he'd been hoping for, he thought, suddenly filled with pride. The master suite was spacious, with a large bed covered in silk—real silk, not that fake shit— and mahogany furniture. There were mirrors on every wall, and portraits of naked females frolicking with each other.
Bride inhaled deeply, closed her eyes. "It smells wonderful in here."
Not as good as you. He released her hand but wasn't able to sever all contact, so he wound an arm around her lower back, spreading his fingers wide to touch all of her that he could. His pinkie sank between her cheeks. She didn't protest. She wasn't so maddening, after all.
"Bathroom is this way." He had to lead her to keep her from running into things because she kept her head turned, studying the room in wonder.
The bathroom was already open, and just as spacious. There was a claw-foot tub, a porcelain sink, and a shower stall with two waterspouts.
Again, Bride gasped in wonder. "My God. That's not... it isn't an enzyme stall.”
“No."
She faced him, trembling hands on his chest. His cock, already thickening and desperate for another go at her, brushed the cleft between her legs. "Real water comes out?"
"Yes."
Her eyes closed, and an expression of utter ecstasy consumed her features. "I haven't had one of those in sixty years or so."
"Let's not make you wait a second longer, then," he said huskily. He walked over to the stall and worked the knobs. A gust of water burst from the nozzle, stopped, and then a continuous spray emerged. Soon steam wafted, surrounding them.
Bride didn't have to be commanded inside. She pushed Devyn out of the way and stepped into the water. A delighted laugh chimed from her as the water pummeled her, splashing into her hair and soaking its way down her body.
Never had Devyn seen a more beautiful sight. She was an angel, a siren, and a goddess, all wrapped in Temptation's skin. Her joy was palpable, and he had given this to her, he thought, his pride intensifying.
Water was expensive, but damn if he wouldn't spend his last cent buying it for her from this moment on. Until you tire of her, right? He stepped inside, and hot droplets beat against him, massaging his tired muscles.
Their eyes met, and she gradually lost her grin. Her gaze slid to his penis. She gulped. Shivered.
"Ready for round two already, Bradley?" Her nipples beaded, and the pulse at the base of her neck fluttered.
"Been ready. I've just been waiting for you to catch up." She gave another of those delicious laughs.
His cock jerked in reaction. "Have you ever had sex in water?”
“No. So let's change that, shall we?"
A few blissful hours later, Bride found herself standing in front of her—old?—apartment door, Devyn at her side. He'd made love to her inside the shower, slowly, tenderly, but with an air of urgency she hadn't understood but had felt herself. She couldn't seem to get enough of him. How foolish was that? Soon her supply would be cut off, whether by Devyn or herself, and she'd have to do without him. Wanting more was dumb.
To be honest, she just couldn't see them lasting much longer. They liked each other now, sure, and the sex was amazing. Soon, though, someone else would come along and catch his notice. When that happened, she would leave. Bride absolutely refused to hang where she wasn't wanted. That feeling of inadequacy ... she shuddered.