Eighth Grave After Dark

“I’ll call Agent Waters, now. We’re on this.”

I hung up and gave Amber a high five. “You may have just saved a life, Amber.”

She smiled bashfully. “I hope so.”

* * *

After scouring the texts one last time, making notes based on Amber’s keen eye, we scanned them all and sent them back to Kit with our observations before wandering off to bed. I led Reyes to the communal bathroom and insisted he take a long, hot shower for two reasons. One, I wanted him to relax enough to fall asleep. Eight months without a wink? Unfathomable. How was I not married to a zombie? Two, I wanted to get a jump-start on this war.

Because the rooms were so tiny, we’d had to stash Reyes’s clothes in the room next to our bedroom. I’d dubbed it his dressing room. He was a prince, after all. Sure, he was a prince of the underworld, but the title still counted. I hurried inside and carried out my dastardly plan, ransacking his dresser until I found every stitch of underwear he owned. I stuffed them into a plastic grocery bag—ever a champion of recycling—tiptoed back into our bedroom, and hid them in Beep’s bassinet. Then, giggling like a mental patient, I grabbed the book I’d been reading and scrambled into bed.

My insides tingled when I heard him walk down the hall. Open the door to his dressing room. Pull out a drawer. Then another. I wiggled farther into the covers when I heard his footsteps get closer.

By the time he appeared at the door, a playful grin on his face, I lay reading in bed, completely innocent of anything he might accuse me of.

He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe. “You wouldn’t happen to know where my underwear ran off to, would you?”

I closed the book and thought. And thought. Then I crinkled my nose and thought some more. “Nope,” I said at last. “Weird that you don’t, though, since it is your underwear. This could get really awkward.”

He dropped the towel and my gaze darted to his glorious nether regions.

“Not for me.”

Damn him and his rock-hard body. I tore my gaze away and went back to reading as he pulled on a pair of loose pajama pants, the kind that tied in front, and a powder blue T-shirt, all the while watching me like a panther readying to pounce.

“Going commando?” I asked as he crawled onto the bed. The mattress sank under his weight.

Ignoring me, he read the title of the book I kept firmly between our gazes. “Lover Awakened.” He nestled his head on my shoulder. “Weren’t you reading this book last month?”

“No.”

He raised a brow.

“Yes. I can’t stop. I’ve read it twenty-seven times in a row.”

He chuckled. “Do you need to be awakened?”

“’Parently.”

“You know, you don’t need a manual for that. I can walk you through it step-by-step.” He ran a finger down the curve of my neck, his heat licking across my skin, soaking into my nightgown.

“That’s okay,” I said, fighting a grin. “This author covers the basics. Her hero seems very well informed. I think I’m getting the general idea.”

“But can he do this?” He slid a hand under the covers and over my knee. Separating my legs, he wrapped one of his around one of mine, locking mine apart as he pushed the other knee, distancing them farther. He kissed my shoulder and slid his fingertips over the delicate folds between my legs, parting them, easing inside. His touch was like liquid fire. It rippled over me, settled deep inside, melted me until the warmth pooling in my abdomen ignited. I curled one fist into the sheets and opened even wider, greedy for more.

“Well, I can’t say,” I said breathlessly. “I’ve never met him. But he seems very capable.”

“What about this?” He peeled back my nightgown with his free hand and took Danger’s hardened nipple into his mouth. Sucking softly, he did the tongue thing. The fucking tongue thing that set me on fire. He had me squirming in seconds, begging for release as he tasted and teased.

I reached down and took hold of his rock-hard erection through the pants. He sucked in a soft breath and even through the material I could feel the blood rushing beneath my fingers. I started to turn into him, but he pulled me up from the mattress. Locking me to him from behind, he walked me to the full-length mirror, pushed my gown over my shoulders, and let it drop to the floor.

When I tried to look down, he wrapped a hand around my throat from behind and forced me to look into the mirror, as though wanting me to see what he saw. But what I saw was a very large, very round woman.

He must have sensed my misgivings. He tsked softly and placed my hands on the wall on either side of the mirror. Then he pulled a chair over with one foot and lifted one of my legs over the back of it. My toes barely touched the seat and by that point, I was shaking visibly.

He wrapped a hand around my throat again and whispered into my ear. “Now I’m going to do things to you,” he said, his voice deep and smooth and accented with a brogue, and I realized he was speaking in Manx Gaelic. “Very bad things,” he added, his brogue almost as sexy as he. It set my soul ablaze. “And you’re going to watch.” He cupped Will. Kneaded her. “And you’re going to learn.” He grazed his teeth over my lobe, his warm breath fanning over my cheek. “And you’re going to understand exactly what it is that you do to me.”

What I did to him? Was he insane? I was just thankful for the wall; otherwise, I doubted I could have stood as his erection slid between my legs, so hard it pulsed there. I started to reach under and take hold of it, but he quickly set my hand back on the wall.