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She thrust back, giving herself over to pleasure in the darkened corner of the bar.
Flames of hunger licked her clit, and she almost burst into a conflagration when he tore his lips from hers in a ragged, low roar.
Pulling away, he murmured, ‘You’re the one I desire, Sana’a. Make no mistake about that.’
Then his muscled forearms came around her and held her tight.
When he let her go, it was like the kätu; the utter mysticism and beauty of the night fell away.
She cursed, breathless and fighting for control. ‘Fokk you, Sable. Don’t play with my heart because you will fall in love alone.’
He gave a small laugh. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he rasped. ‘There’s somewhere I want to show you.’
He rose and grabbed her arm, tracked down the bar owner, paid his bill, and led her outside.
She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. ‘Where’s that?’ she murmured.
‘Fly with me.’
‘Depends on where we’re going?’
He flicked her a side glance. ‘Don’t you ever trust, lower your guard, let go, let flow?’
‘Nada, never. I’m always watching my back.’
‘Is that because you’ve never had someone to watch it for you?’
She fell silent as they walked along the darkened avenue, mulling his words.
Cloaked and stealthed to the world around them, their shoulders and arms touched on occasion, synced in movement and rhythm to each other.
‘Perhaps,’ she finally admitted.
‘What if I had your back, khany’s?’
‘Now, in this street or forever?’
He stopped her, turning her to face him. ‘I don’t commit to things without lack of thought, beautiful. When I give my word, it is bond.’
She tried to ignore how much she reacted to what he was saying.
A scorching need, underscored by longing for the image he painted, flared inside her.
Even now, he stared at her with a heated insistence. His eyes glistened as if he was teasing her. Urging her to grasp his head, pull his head to hers, take in his hot tongue and grind her hips along his steel length.
She muffled a groan at the thought as her face suffused with red heat as they gazed into each other’s eyes.
‘Soar with me.’
Fokk that rasp. She wanted him, needed to stroke him.
Sana’a was still pulsing from their kisses, but intoxicating as Killen Sable was, he was a craving she could not get hooked on.
She had an oath to fulfil, two blades to discharge, three tragedies to revenge, four slays to complete, and five fates to decide.
Seconds later, that pledge and the promise to herself were forgotten when Killen was lifted into his arms and ascended into the skies above Kos.
Chapter 26
