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“Truly?” she whispered.
He took her clenched hand and put it to his heart. “On my honor, you are the only one who is held here. And I wish things were different for me, I truly do. They are not, however, and what I feel for you doesn’t change my situation.”
Closing her eyes briefly, she was aware of a crushing defeat. But she was glad for the honesty because it gave her even greater faith in what he had revealed.
She had her single, tiny flame. She had her orientating light. She had her grounding.
And it was the one that mattered the most.
“Take of me,” Jack said roughly, as if he knew exactly what was going through her mind.
As he lifted his wrist to her mouth, his eyes were luminous, so bright and blue, that she felt as though she was falling into him. His big body was beautiful, and so was his face, but those eyes . . . it was the way they revealed his soul that called to her the most.
With a trembling hand, she reached up and drew his long braid over his shoulder. “May I see you with your hair down?”
There was a pause, and then Jack went to the leather tie that bound the thick end. He undid the strap, and then his fingers pierced through the bottom of the weave, starting to pull apart the lengths.
“Let me do that,” she said.
When he dropped his hands, she took over—and she took her time. Piece by piece, she unwound the tight plaiting, the dark hair lengthening as it was released from its confinement, the waves shiny and lit with blue-black flashes. Long . . . thick . . . smelling of sandalwood, his hair was luxurious in the candlelight, the ends extending down past his chest, onto his heavy shoulders and thick arms.
Running her fingers through his hair, pulling it back from his face, her breath caught. He had been handsome before. Now . . . he was transformed into something otherworldly, some kind of fallen angel or tortured deity, expelled out of heaven to suffer here on earth.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“What?”
By way of answer, he brought his fingertips to the high collar of his tunic. One by one, he freed the ties, revealing the strong column of his throat.
“You don’t have to,” she said softly.
“As I told you, I will never deny you.”
“I didn’t know I’d spoken out loud to ask.”
And as for the never denying her, that was true . . . except for when it came to leaving with her. But enough thinking about that.
Jack pulled the tunic up and over his head, revealing himself to her naked from the waist up, his pectorals and ribbed stomach caressed by the firelight of the candles, his incredible hair spilling around everywhere, his stare alit with blue flame.
“You don’t have to speak of it.” He reached across the electrified air between them and brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “What you want is in your eyes.”
He moved his thumb to her lower lip, running it over her mouth before penetrating in and stroking first one, and then the other, of her fangs. With a moan, Nyx felt the contact down deep in her core, the licks of arousal tightening her nipples, making her pant.
Jack purred, as if he knew what he was doing to her. Or maybe he was looking forward to what her canines were going to do at his throat. Both were different sides of a very good coin.
“More,” he said, as he repeated the ring around her fang. “I want to hear more of that sound.”
Giving in to the command, Nyx went limp, the blood hunger, the sexual starvation, overriding her senses. And as she lolled to the side, he gathered her to him, moving her into his lap, cradling her against his naked torso.
“Take from me,” he said roughly.
“Jack, are you sure?”
“Never more so.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Don’t be.”
Nyx moaned again as her eyes closed, the sexual current shooting through her body like someone had poured honey mixed with accelerant into her—and then lit the cocktail on fire.
As he lifted her into position, holding her in his strong arms, she ran her hands under his hair, finding so much of his warm, smooth skin and very hard muscle. In the back of her mind, she heard him tell her she was his only female.
That whatever was in that cell had nothing to do with them.
And as she nuzzled into his neck, she thought to herself, Not the place, not the time, was a meaningless expression.
Especially when it came to a moment like this.
“Jack,” she sighed as she bared her fangs with a hiss and ran one of the sharp tips up his jugular. “Oh, Jack . . .”
The Jackal palmed the back of Nyx’s head and held her to the vein at his throat. Closing his eyes, he was aware of his body coming alive, a sense of curling, urgent anticipation thickening his blood . . . thickening another place on his body, too. As his cock hardened, it crammed itself into an awkward, uncomfortable angle, but he didn’t care.
