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Amaliya gripped Cian’s wrist. “Eduardo is here. ”
“Let him wait,” Cian ordered watching her face.
With a gasp, she felt her climax wash over her, rippling like a great wave as their combined power slammed into her. Her eyes rolled as she collapsed against Cian. Unexpectedly, he was inside of her not only physically, but supernaturally. She could feel his overwhelming love and desire for her, his strength, his determination, and his need. It was almost too much to bear on top of the powerful jolts of her orgasm.
Kissing her deeply, Cian held her until the wave of power ebbed away leaving her trembling in its wake.
“What did you do?” Amaliya gasped.
“Claimed you,” Cian answered. “I made you mine. And I am yours. Bound by more than The Summoner’s blood, but by our power. ”
A touch of anger mingled with her awe. “Why didn’t you ask me?”
Tenderly touching her cheek, Cian ignored the insistent ringing of the doorbell. “Because you already said yes. You didn’t flee tonight. ”
Punching him in the shoulder, Amaliya frowned at him. “Oh, fuck you. ”
“You just did,” Cian smirked.
“Are we married or something now?” Amaliya clenched him inside of her, eliciting a tortured moan from him.
“Or something,” Cian answered, nuzzling her neck.
“Dickhead. ”
“I love you, too. ”
The doorbell continued to ring tenaciously.
“I’ll get it,” Amaliya reluctantly said. “Before he thinks we’re already dead. ”
As their bodies parted, Amaliya felt a pang of remorse at their separation, yet she still felt an invisible cord connecting them. She rinsed off under the water and slipped out of the glass box to snag her robe.
“Don’t let him see you naked,” Cian called out.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Amaliya answered.
The robe was black silk and fell to her feet. It was Cian’s originally, but she had claimed it as her own. She nabbed a towel off the counter and rushed out to answer the door. Wrapping her soaking wet hair in the towel, she checked the security feed before heading down the front hall.
The doorbell buzzed over and over again.
Opening the door, she set a hand on her hip and arched an eyebrow. “No patience, eh?”
Eduardo grinned, a feral expression. “Not at all. ” The short man was clad in tight blue jeans, a form-fitting black silk T-shirt, and cowboy boots. He smelled of the earth and death. Handing over a red thermos, he said, “So when does the fun start?”
Amaliya ignored the way his eyes lingered on her breasts. “We’re getting ready. Rachon isn’t due at Zilker Park for another hour. ” She unscrewed the thermos lid and glanced inside, sniffing loudly. Her blood still coated the interior and top. “Didn’t clean it out, eh?”
“I was tempted to lick it clean. ”
“What stopped you?”
“I don’t really want to end up like Sam. Ghosts freak me out. ” Eduardo shrugged, shut the door, and followed her to the kitchen.
The comment smarted more than it should have, but Amaliya simply shrugged her shoulders, dismissing it.
“I hit every cemetery in Austin. ” Eduardo leaned against the bar and raked his gaze over body again.
Amaliya rinsed out the thermos thoroughly, the bloody water swirling down the drain. “And you made sure to pour it onto a grave right? The blood has to be on a grave. ”
