“You will,” he replied. “But I want your consent.”
“And I want my blades.”
“You’ll have them.” He removed his touch from her abdomen and wrapped his hand around her neck. “But try to cut me and you’ll regret it.”
The threat underlining his words and position didn’t faze her. She planned to stab him, not slice him.
“Fine.”
He grinned as if seeing through her acquiescence. “So we have a deal, angel?”
“How many minutes, or rather, hours, do you require?”
“Seven ought to do.”
Her eyebrows inched up. “Seven hours?”
“Yes. That equates to one evening.”
Perhaps he intended to sleep as well? That would work well with her plans. She could learn a bit from his body, gather her intelligence, and then exterminate him while he rested. All practical reasons to agree.
Except… “What do you gain from this?”
“Satisfaction,” he replied as he slid his hand to the nape of her neck. His fingers found a pressure point that resulted in a release of tension she hadn’t realized was there.
Oh, I like that far too much.
He continued to massage the spot as his thigh moved subtly between her legs. So strange, and yet good.
“You provide a new explorative opportunity,” he continued, his voice low. “Which is something I consider a rarity at my age.”
“Because I’m a Seraphim.”
“Yes.” He trailed his nose across her cheekbone as he inhaled. “Your arousal is intoxicating, angel.”
His lips went to her neck to press an open-mouthed kiss against her pulse. It left her shaking uncontrollably.
More.
Adrenaline seemed to mount inside her, but she didn’t know how to release it. Everything felt so impactful and stimulating. Better than a fight, but more draining than a run. The perplexity floored her. She craved more of this exquisite confusion.
“All right,” she whispered. “I agree to your terms of seven hours of my time in exchange for information on your father’s location.”
“Mmm.” He nipped her throat before pushing back and retrieving her blades from the floor. She almost felt cold without him pressed up against her, yet his eyes kept her warm as they trailed over her skin.
Sethios held out her two weapons. “You’ll wear these and only these in my bed.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
Caro had worn a ceremonial robe with Adriel. He hadn’t even seen her thighs—just lifted the fabric, fulfilled his obligation, and left while she waited for the seed to root inside her. She’d done everything she could to ensure it would work the first time so she didn’t have to experience it again. Her due diligence benefited Adriel as well; male Seraphim weren’t keen on the emotional weakness associated with sexual climax.
“You wanted your toys returned and I’m granting them, but your clothes remain here.” He twirled the blades with a skill that indicated training. “Your choice, angel.”
She licked her lips. “I want my knives.”
“Then I want your clothes.”
She stared at him. “That’s—”
