“Yes like this, or there’s never going tobeanother time.” Why was he so infuriating? I straddled him and leaned forward, pinning his wrists to the ground. He tried to push back, but he was wasted. Utterly spent. All he could manage was to turn his face away.
I leaned in close again, kissing his cheek, his jaw, his ear, disregarding the blood and the grime and putting every ounce of sexy, sexual energy I could into bringing him back.
Finally he turned his face back toward me, our lips brushing, soft and silent as falling powder.
An electric current sparked across my lips.
Asher’s eyes blazed with sudden heat. It surged through his limbs, warming my skin where our bodies touched.
It was working.
With renewed strength, he broke free from my hold and grabbed the back of my head, pulling me down again, smashing his mouth against mine in fevered passion.
I felt the power of that kiss all the way to my toes, and I let out a soft moan of pleasure, the taste of cinnamon filling my mouth as Asher grew hot and hard beneath me…
“Feeling better, asshole?”
Ronan’s voice broke the spell, and I turned to see him standing at the top of the attic entrance, arms folded over his chest, his face almost as bloody as Asher’s.
But that grin told me everything I needed to know.
Forty-Six
Gray
Limping but alive, Asher leaned on Ronan and me as the three of us hobbled down the main stairwell. The brief but intense kiss had given him just enough energy to make it down the attic ladder, down the staircase, and over to the living room couch, where he unceremoniously collapsed.
He was smiling though. Waving us away when we tried to fuss over him.
Without sex, it would take him longer to recover, but the important thing was hewouldrecover. Without sex. Without me having sex with him. Without us together, having sex…
Head in the game, Gray. Head in the game.
Shaking off the memories of that sizzling kiss, I leaned back against Ronan’s chest and took in the scene. Most of the furniture had been overturned or destroyed, broken glass littered the once-gleaming hardwood floors, but all was quiet.
And it looked like my boys had won.
“Alvarez?” Ronan called out. “Beaumont?”
“In here,” Emilio replied, back in his human form.
We followed the sound of his voice to the kitchen where not so long ago, Norah had fixed me a cup of hot tea.
It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Just like the rest of the first floor, the kitchen was torn apart, an explosion of dishes and drawers and silverware and tea towels covering every flat surface, but one vampire remained upright in the chaos, chained to a wooden chair and guarded by two of the fiercest, most frightening, most beautiful men I’d ever seen.
Whatever wounds Darius might’ve suffered, he’d already healed. Emilio was a little roughed up, but he was in good shape overall, dressed in a pair of tight pink sweatpants he must’ve snagged from one of Norah’s closets.
Behind them, the decapitated bodies of five bloodsuckers lay in a heap.
I didn’t want to know where the heads had ended up.
“I see we still have a guest,” I said, unable to keep the smile from my face. I was just so happy to see them, to know that they’d survived. That we’d all survived.
The vampire turned his head toward me and sneered. He was bloody and broken, but his gray eyes radiated pure evil.
My gut twisted.
