Ezekiel met Gabriel’s gaze just as Skye jerked herself out of her reverie, her sharp inhale reverberating around them.
“The High Council of Seraph knows,” she breathed, her voice hoarse. “They’re going to kill her, Ezekiel. They’re going to kill the baby!”
Gabriel pulled out his phone, dialing Leela. She answered on the first ring. “How’s Caro?”
“The High Council of Seraph knows about Lizzie’s child. They’re coming.”
“What?” she asked. “How could they—”
The line went dead.
Caro drew the blade across Sethios’s hip, the sharp edge slicing easily through his skin and leaving a trail of blood behind it that she followed with her tongue.
He tasted so good. Like home. She indulged herself in the flavor, memories of their short seven years together floating through her mind in a warm wave.
“I see you found the knife,” he mused, his green eyes smoldering as he met her gaze.
“You tucked it into the pillowcase,” she replied. “Which means you wanted me to find it.” Or he would have hidden it more thoroughly.
He smiled. “You took it off of Ezekiel; therefore, you earned the blade more than I did.”
Yes. Her mind held a version of events that had painted Ezekiel in a horrifying light. So she’d reacted accordingly, the confusion of Gabriel having taken her to the male she’d thought betrayed them all overwhelming her entirely. She’d jumped to several conclusions, including thinking Sethios was some sort of mirage.
Fortunately, all her memories were in the right order once again, putting her at peace for the first time in what felt like centuries. It’d only been eighteen years, according to Sethios. Yet it felt like so much longer.
She kissed his hip bone, her tongue touching the trickle of blood she’d created with the blade. His cock pulsed in response, making her smile. “This is the reason you wanted me to find the knife.”
“One of many,” he admitted, his fingers threading through her tangled strands. “Fuck, I’ve missed your mouth on me, Caro.”
A tingle worked through her at the need in his voice. He’d just gone down on her for the third time—which was when she’d found the knife—and yet her body was roaring back to life all over again.
He made her insatiable.
And she very much wanted to return the favor.
She guided the blade across his lower belly, hard enough to make him bleed. He flinched and groaned in response, his grasp in her hair tightening as she slid her tongue along the scrape.
More, he growled into her mind.
Make me, she said, wanting to feel his power wrap around her in that intimate caress only he could give her.
“Suck my cock, Caro,” he demanded.
She grinned at his directness, loving that he didn’t waste time with unnecessary words. He knew what he wanted, and he took it. That’d always been the way with Sethios. And she happily gave him what he desired, her lips wrapping around his thick head and gliding down as far as her mouth would allow.
A guttural noise left his mouth, his body spasming from the onslaught of pleasure her tongue provided against his shaft. She grazed him with her teeth, drawing a hiss from his lips.
“Fuck,” he muttered, arching into her.
She repeated the action, knowing he liked the danger of her potential bite. It was a game between them, a harsh dance of sensuality intertwined with unpredictability. He’d once told her he wanted to watch her go down on him just to see if she would bite.
She did.
Frequently.
But not today. She wanted to feel him come undone in her mouth too badly to prolong his sexual torment.
And he’d commanded her to suck, his words underlined in a healthy dose of persuasion that compelled her cheeks to hollow around him. She reveled in the energy coursing through her veins, the need pulsing against her tongue, and the connection thriving between her and Sethios.
