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She wriggled out of his embrace. “You smell of Lilith.” She pushed away and took a step toward the ancient bathroom off her room. “Coming?” Gone was the sorrow from moments before. It had been replaced with raw hunger and need.
She slipped away and ran into the bathroom. His eyes fell upon the paintings, but they were deep in shadow and he couldn’t see them clearly.
The sound of the shower tore his gaze away and jump-started him into action. Declan’s clothes were hastily shed. The hunger inside was gnawing heavily, as was the need to hold Ana close.
Steam was already rising fast as he entered the large room. The decrepit light fixture that hung from the center of the ceiling didn’t throw much illumination, but it was enough. His gaze found her immediately.
The tub was a mammoth thing, with four clawlike feet holding it in place. She stood inside, staring at him in silence as water fell from above, running over her porcelain skin, touching the places that belonged to him.
If he could take the time to just watch her, he would. He’d memorize every nook and cranny, every single dimple and curve of her body. But there was an urgent need in her eyes and his energy fed off it. It propelled him forward until he was beside her, touching her and claiming her with his hands and his lips.
The spray was hot and felt like heaven against his skin. It seemed as if he’d been cold for days. The wetness slid between their bodies as they strained together. His hand held her head firmly while his mouth skated across her jaw, nipping lightly as he worked his way to the open mouth that he craved.
He ate the groan that slipped between her teeth, his tongue aggressively tasting everything she had to offer.
God, that he had her now, after so many years of want. He growled and the darkness inside him stirred. The need to protect was powerful and he trembled from the ferocity of it. He would kill anyone who would harm her.
“Ana.” Her name fell from his lips as he broke away. He couldn’t shake the sense of doom hanging over his head. There were still so many unanswered questions.
“No words.” Her voice was hoarse. He saw tiny veins appear beneath her skin. Her fangs poked out and the now-familiar ache spread inside his mouth. She grabbed a bar of soap. There was no washcloth or bath sponge, just fingers and slippery smooth bubbles.
He stood still while she slowly ran her hands along his shoulders. His eyes moved lower, fixated by her small, round breasts as she rose on tiptoes to accomplish her task.
She spread the clean-smelling soap along hardened muscles and damaged, scarred skin. Her eyes claimed his and never left as she moved lower, her fingers kneading, massaging. When her fangs became fully distended, when
they scraped along the side of his straining cock, she did not waver.
He hissed when her fingers closed around his erection and when her tongue teased, stroking in tandem with her hands, he started to pant, and a growl did indeed escape.
His eyes bored into hers. “Keep that up and it will be over before we start.” He slid his hands along her body, yanking the soap from her grasp. The tub was now nearly full of hot, silky water. He turned off the tap and slid down into the welcoming depths, pulling Ana between his legs.
His body raged with need and yet he knew somehow that she needed comfort. Her back rested against his chest and he took his time, running his large, soapy hands over her skin.
Declan cleaned every single delicious inch of her body and took special care to massage her delicate feet, running hands along the arches and in between her toes. She was mush in his hands when he was finally done and the water was no longer hot, but tepid.
Declan scooped her up and slid from the tub, grabbing a large towel as he moved into the bedroom. Gently he laid her on the bed and she stared at him in silence as he rubbed the moisture from her body.
When he was done he tossed the towel aside and rested on his haunches as he gazed down at her. The moon had found her way out and small slivers of light drifted through the slats in the blinds. They caressed her pale flesh in a wash of stardust.
She looked like a fucking goddess.
She sat up and placed her hands upon the torn, scarred flesh of his chest. Her shoulders trembled and she shook her head. “If I could take this away I would.” Her eyes were wide, their blue depths darkened, intense. “I would do anything for you, Declan.” She rose the last few inches and he groaned as her hands cupped his head. She lowered her mouth and kissed his lips, a butterfly touch, but one heavy with meaning and emotion.
Her tongue wove a path of desire along his jaw and she whispered, “Anything.”
The energy changed and it was no subtle thing. Declan frowned, a sliver of unease subduing the passion somewhat. He tensed as her fangs broke skin on his neck and closed his eyes as she pulled from him, taking his blood. It was an exquisite sensation, one that overrode any feelings of danger.
Each draw was like fire over ice. He groaned as his head started to spin and a host of erotic images fluttered in his brain. His own fangs were ready, his body filled with need.
He tried to shift but Ana was astride him now, her grip firm, and he was unable to move her. He’d forgotten how strong she was. Too late he realized something was wrong. She was taking too much.
His eyes flew open but he couldn’t focus. He was losing himself.
There was pain. He started to thrash, but her claws dug in and held him tight. And then there was nothing. The connection was broken.
Declan fell back onto the bed, his head limp upon the pillow. He was cold, disoriented. A whisper of warmth touched his face and forced his eyes open.
Ana’s blue gaze held him firm, but she could not hide her anguish and regret.
