Shadow Rising (Dark Dynasties #3)

“Yes?”

“I… may have liked the idea of having you in my debt.” She couldn’t help the smile that rose to her lips, and it broadened when Damien’s slow, Cheshire cat grin appeared. She doubted he smiled like that often, when it reached his eyes and warmed them. Ariane felt a little like melting into a puddle right there on the comforter. The art of teasing was still foreign to her, but Damien seemed to have appreciated the effort.

“Nicely done, kitten. You may learn after all. I’ll tell you what… since I am, in fact, glad to still be in possession of my sorry hide, I’ll give you something for your trouble.”

She looked at him warily. “You can keep that to yourself.”

This time he laughed, a full, rich sound that seemed to roll up from deep in his chest. Ariane found herself laughing with him despite herself. He had a way about him when his guard went down, and she found herself wishing he did it more often. It was probably just the shock of the evening that had altered him, but she would enjoy this side of him while it lasted. Even when Damien’s laughter subsided, his eyes stayed warm.

“You’ve already got me pegged, Ariane. I’ll have to work harder at shocking you.”

She laughed again. “No, don’t, please!”

“Music to my ears. You’re doomed, I’m afraid.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, paused as though checking to see if everything was still in working order, and then rose to his feet. Her eyes skimmed down the length of him again; she couldn’t help herself. Nor could she stop her mouth from watering. Streaks of crimson had dried on his chest where the blood had seeped through his shirt. Ariane wondered what it would be like to lick them off… slowly.

The tightness between her legs was enough of a warning that she needed to save that particular line of thought for another time. But when she met Damien’s eyes again, they’d gone so dark they were almost black, and she could see he knew exactly what she’d been thinking about.

She rose from the bed and took a quick step backward, an instinctive response to the predatory gaze now fixed on her.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he said softly. “Bloody innocent. You’re going to learn to stop that, kitten… because if you provoke me much more, I won’t.”

She knew he was going to catch her, but Ariane was compelled to run anyway. She made it out of the bedroom, but only steps before Damien caught her from behind. He spun her and pressed her up against the wall before she could make a sound, and once she was face-to-face with him, she couldn’t quite manage to exhale.

His eyes glowed brightly in the dark, and his breath was uneven when he drew it in. She closed her eyes when he lowered his head, expecting to feel his mouth on hers… and was shocked when instead he pressed his nose into her hair, inhaling deeply while he rubbed his cheek against hers.

He was raw sexuality, sheer physical power. Ariane knew she had no business allowing this. She didn’t know him, she didn’t like him… and gods, how she wanted him.

She made a soft whimpering sound. It was all she could manage when her body seemed to have ignited in flames. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, turning her nipples to hard little pebbles beneath her shirt. And though none of the rest of him touched her, she could feel how close he was, knew that if she arched her back, she’d have him pressed rock solid between her legs.

Now that she knew how it felt, it was a struggle not to want it again. Why did he have to be so compelling?

“Mmm, I love the way you smell,” Damien murmured, his breath tickling her ear in the most delicious way. When the purr began to vibrate through him, Ariane’s knees went liquid. Only Damien’s hands, his fingers twined with hers as they held her captive against the wall, seemed capable of holding her up.

He drew back, brushing his nose against hers. “Now let’s see how you taste,” he breathed.

He took his time with it, tormenting her with small, soft kisses and suckling gently at her lower lip. When she moaned, he was ready, sweeping his tongue inside to mate with hers in a hot, openmouthed kiss. Ariane clung to him, digging her nails into his shoulders. It was only then she realized that he’d released her hands. He’d found far better things to do with his own, slipping one hand up beneath her shirt to cup and knead her breast.

And he purred for her, the sound rippling through her and pooling with the moisture at the apex of her thighs. When he tweaked her nipple, she gasped, the sensation only serving to make her tighter, hotter. She slid one hand down to grip his hip and pull him against her. He thrust against her hard, growling.

“Is this what you want?” he asked.

Her head was spinning too fast for her to lie.

“Yes,” she said, and his mouth was on hers again, more demanding now. Ariane’s hands skimmed over his back, his broad shoulders, sliding into thick, soft hair. He leaned into her touch, letting her know without words how much he liked what she was doing. The pleasure of it, the unexpected give and take as they tangled up in one another, was a bright shock to her system. All of the sensual education she’d been deprived of in the long years she’d lived among the Grigori seemed to have been concentrated into this one heated exchange.

She ran her nails lightly down his chest, making him shudder; then, before she could begin to think better of it, she began to fumble with his belt buckle. She was so tired of thinking; it was so much better just to feel.

Damien moaned into her mouth as she wrapped her fingers around his cock and gave it a tentative stroke. The skin was like hot silk, and the power she felt as he shivered beneath her touch was heady stuff. His hand snaked around her wrist and jerked it away before she could do more.

“No, kitten, don’t,” he panted. “I’m already too—”

But his words were lost on her. Uncertainty had quickly given way to delight, and then to something hotter, wilder that threatened to consume Ariane unless she had more… all… now. She bared her teeth and scraped them over the sensitive skin of his throat, reveling in the feel of Damien’s hands tangling in her hair as he drew her closer. She wanted to ride him until she dropped, to bite, to feed while they joined…

When the key rattled in the lock, he tore away from her so quickly that she nearly fell to the floor. Her hands slammed against the wall behind her, the only thing propping her up. Damien had backed up several steps, very pointedly not meeting her eyes while he hurriedly tried to fix his pants. Ariane watched him, her breathing harsh and uneven. She wasn’t at all sure what had just happened, but she was quite sure she hadn’t wanted it to end. Damien, on the other hand, seemed flustered in a way she hadn’t believed him capable of.

Her eyes moved to the door, which opened as she leaned against the wall, trying not to let her legs just crumple beneath her.

Elena stepped in, flipped on the light, and then stopped short. Her eyes went from Ariane to Damien, who was fumbling with his belt. Ariane watched Elena’s eyebrows shoot up to somewhere around her hairline and wanted to groan.

“If I’m interrupting something,” she said slowly, “I can leave until you’re… ah… finished.”

“No. It’s not… no…,” Damien stammered.

Ariane turned her attention back to him. He looked disheveled, deliciously rumpled—and panicked half out of his mind. Ariane had to wonder what she’d done. Granted, her experience with kissing was close to nil, but she doubted her inexperience was what was making Damien look perilously close to a full-blown panic attack. Instinctively, she sought to soothe him.

“Damien’s had a long night, Elena,” she said, her eyes darting anxiously between the two of them. “He was nearly killed. I brought him back here to help him until he could heal himself.” She moved away from the wall on weak legs, toward where Damien now stood looking like he wanted to bolt. She couldn’t help touching him, just a quick brush of her fingers over his back. She thought she heard the faintest beginning of a purr before he began to cough.

Elena frowned. “You sound terrible. I’m no healer, but I can call someone who—”

“No, no, that’s not necessary. I’ll be fine,” Damien said, his voice huskier than usual. “I’ll grab a bite on my way back to the hotel and be none the worse for wear.”

“You’re leaving?” Ariane asked, surprised, and more than a little wary. His eyes returned to her, and she could see he understood.

His expression was faintly mocking. “So little faith I’ll honor my word already, kitten? I’m hurt.”

She hated that he’d reverted so quickly to cool, detached sarcasm. There was more to Damien than that. She’d seen it, felt it. But then, maybe it took a life-threatening experience to bring the other side of him out. The thought was depressing.

“You’ve already bragged about your word not meaning much,” Ariane said. “I want to know where I can find you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Even if I told you the hotel, what’s to say I’ll be there tomorrow night if I don’t want to be found?”

She glared at him, and he rolled his eyes, relenting. “Fine. I’m at the Ashby. But don’t be banging on my door at sundown. I’ll come fetch you here.”

Ariane crossed her arms over her chest and tipped up her chin. The defiance was an excellent way to cover up her fear. She didn’t want him to vanish on her… not now. “And how do I know you won’t just decide to leave me hanging here?”

He gave her a faint smile. “You don’t. But I won’t.” His smile faded as their eyes stayed locked. Ariane felt caught, unable to look away and even less interested in doing so. She saw the heat flicker in his gaze, and it curled through her, warming her to her toes. Then just as quickly, it was gone as he turned his head away from her to look at Elena.

“You’ll need to keep a close eye on her for the rest of the night,” he said. “She’s prone to getting into trouble.”