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“You obviously—very obviously—want me.” Her heart leaped.And he’s still growing. My, my, my. Hat tip to his DNA. Wait. She dug her claws into his chest, suddenly uncertain despite the mounting evidence. “You want me, no one else?”
His expression softened, as if he’d just realized something embarrassing about her, and oh, she longed to bury her face in the hollow of his neck. To hide. To cuddle closer.
“I do want you,” he confessed.
Well, then. She relaxed over him, getting more comfortable. “Do you want me for longer than a night?”
A slight vibration petted her from the inside. Had he groaned? “Much longer.”
Ooh. Maybe things were too new to label. “Tell me more about us. My impression of you is improving.”
He didn’t take the bait. But he did reach up and smooth a lock of hair behind her ear. “Do you recall how you ended up with your moniker?”
The action, coupled with the question, coming on the heels of his amazing confession, so startled her, she blurted the truth. “My mother. It was her way of punishing me for failing to stop her foe from stabbing me in the ears during an invasion. Well, one of the ways.” Her head ached as she pushed back the memories. “I was five.”
The corners of his mouth turned down. “She blamed you for not overcoming a grown warrior’s attack?” He waited for her nod of confirmation to add, “You were a child.”
“But also a harpy with two years of training at her side.” Neeka would give anything to hear his voice. Was it as deep and husky as she suspected? “She lost her consort that day.” Not Neeka’s father, who still lived. He’d stopped wanting anything to do with her, too. Push, push, push. “My weakness contributed to her sudden lack of a family. Someone had to pay.”
“Yes. The soldiers. You were a child,” Rathbone repeated, his dark eyes glittering with menace. He traced his fingertips along the ridges of her spine, gentle, so gentle. When his fingertips brushed the edge of her wings, she moaned with delight.
“Remember the part about me being a harpy? That matters. I’m also the daughter of a harpy-Phoenix and a master oracle. Greatness is built in my DNA. I should’ve done better.”
He pressed a soft kiss into her brow. “Young Rathbone would’ve adored avenging young Neeka. He knows what it’s like to be despised by a parent.”
“Oh?”
“I tell people I’m Rathbone the Only because I’m the last one standing on a battlefield. The truth is, my mother dubbed me If Only. If only I was as strong as my father. If only I were faster, smarter, more skilled.”
“Oh, my sweet baby.” Neeka poured herself over him then, offering comfort of her own. No wonder people coupled up. Did anything compare to this? “How did you get rid of theif?”
“I referred to myself as the Only so often, others eventually did the same.”
Hmm. Maybe she could borrow his play. Drop the “un” and become Neeka the Wanted. Yes, she liked this idea.
“Let’s talk more about you,” he suggested, so eager she got a little giddy.
“I think we should kiss to help me remember our association.” Yes! Kiss. Sheneededto taste him.
A mix of longing and regret flashed over his expression, confusing her. Why regret?
With the reflexes of a jungle cat, he flipped her to her back, pinning her to the blanket and staring down at her. “There’s something I must confess.” His gaze dropped to her lips. He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “We are...” His gaze dropped again and lingered.
“Go on,” she rasped, slithering under him. She ran her hands up his spectacular chest, adoring the silken peaks and hollows. “We are still fighting our attraction to each other? In the middle of an intense negotiation about our relationship?”
He flattened his palms near her temples, fiercer by the second. “I don’t know what we are doing.”
“Let me help you figure it out.” Spreading her legs, she contoured her body to his, becoming a cradle for him. With her knees bent at his waist, she rocked her hips and moaned with delight. So good!
His breaths seemed to roughen. He flicked the tip of his tongue over an incisor. “You were sent to kill me with pleasure, admit it.”
“Pleasure. Mmm, yes. Gimme.” Unwilling to wait a second longer, she lifted her head and mashed her lips into his.
As he opened for her, she thrust her tongue past his teeth. Oh! He was hot. An intoxicating inferno. And his taste. A decadent blend of sweet wine and spices. But...
He didn’t kiss her back. Not at first. “Rathbone,” she pleaded.
With a growl she felt in her bones, he met the next thrust of her tongue with one of his own, feeding her the passion she craved. As he claimed her with possessive strokes, he plumped her breasts. She couldn’t think. Fragmented words erupted on repeat inside her head.Yes. More. Please.
