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Were all kisses from a god as dangerously intoxicating as this one? That too-faint smidgen of common sense told me I should be worried. What if the Primal did come for me? What if he changed his mind, and I had kissed one of his gods? I should care, but instead I kissed the god even harder because I refused to think about that damn Primal. I let myself exist in the moment.
This felt chaotic, like when I slipped under the surface of the lake and stayed until my lungs burned, and my heart raced, just to see how far I could push myself.
And I felt that now—that need to see how far I could push this. I slid my hands up his shirt, over his chest. The edges of his hair brushed my knuckles. I sank my fingers into the silky strands and pulled him closer. I tipped my hips against his lower stomach. The hand on my thigh slid up and around, over the curve of my ass. The thin undergarment was no barrier against the press of his hand.
He squeezed the flesh there, wringing a gasp from me as he slid his tongue over mine. He drew my lower lip between his teeth and nipped. I cried out at the elicit shock of pleasure and the pain thrumming through my body. His tongue flicked over my lip, soothing the biting sting.
Then his mouth was gone. His forehead rested against mine, and for a handful of seconds, there was nothing but silence between us. Nothing but my pounding heart and his shallow breaths as his hand slid back to my hip. Another moment passed, and then he slowly lowered me to my feet. I forced my fingers to open, to let go of his hair. My hands fell to his chest once more.
Under my palm, his heart beat as fast as mine.
I opened my eyes as the seconds ticked by. He remained there, his forehead against mine, one of his hands still a shield between my head and the wall.
“You,” he murmured, his voice sultry and thick. “You were quite convincing.”
“So were you,” I said, a bit breathlessly.
“I know. I’m very skilled at pretending.”
Pretending? Pretending to do what? Enjoy himself? Kissing me? My eyes narrowed as I shoved him away.
He stepped back, laughing softly as he ran a hand over his head, dragging his hair back from his face.
I stepped away from the wall, turning my attention to the darkened pathway, but I saw nothing in the filtered moonlight. I lifted a finger to my still-throbbing lips, then withdrew it and looked down to see a spot of darkness on the tip of my finger. He’d…
He’d drawn blood.
My head snapped up. “You—”
The god stepped in, folding his hand around my wrist. He lifted my arm, and before I could even wonder what he was about, his mouth closed over my finger, and he sucked. I felt the hard pull in a most shameful way—all the way to my core in a rush of hot, damp heat.
Good gods…
Slowly, he drew his mouth from my finger as his gaze flicked up, catching mine. “My apologies. I should’ve elaborated. I’m very good at pretending to enjoy things I do not, but I was not pretending when I had your tongue in my mouth.”
I stood there as he released my wrist, at an utter loss for what to say for several seconds. “It…it’s very inappropriate to take my blood,”—I heard myself saying—“when I don’t even know your name.”
“That was the only inappropriate thing about what just occurred?”
“Well, no. There was a whole lot of inappropriate in there.”
He chuckled again, the sound rich like dark chocolate. I eyed him. Maybe I was wrong about who he served, or at the very least, he had no knowledge of who I truly was. If he did, I doubted he would’ve kissed me. I started to ask if he knew who I was but stopped, realizing I had to be careful in case he didn’t.
“Why did you stop me from going after those gods?” I asked, curling my hand—and the finger that had been in his mouth.
His brows pinched. “Do I need a reason other than stopping someone from getting themselves killed?”
“Normally, I would say no. But you’re a god, and you said there wasn’t a decent bone in your body.”
He faced me. “Just because I’m not mortal doesn’t mean I run around murdering people or allowing them to get themselves killed.”
I sent a pointed look in the direction of the tunnel entrance.
His chin dipped, his features sharpening in the silvery light. “I am not them,” he said, low and deadly soft.
Hairs along the nape of my neck rose, and I fought the urge to take a step back. “I guess I’m lucky?”
His gaze flickered over me. “I’m not sure how lucky you are.”
