The Black God

He didn't feed long, and she was still, listening to his heartbeat. Too worn out to tense in the quiet that followed, she nonetheless began to feel scared again as she came down from the afterglow of sex.

"Tell me everything," he whispered.

Ashley didn't feel him in her mind, but she wasn't capable of stopping him from entering, either. She complied - until she reached the point about the coordinates. That tidbit she did her best to suppress. When she finished, Jonny was quiet. She held her breath, praying she'd managed to hide what she wanted to. She wasn't going to be able to hurt Jonny now that he knew, but she could still surrender to Valon and hope for the best.

She breathed in Jonny's masculine scent. She was too comfortable with him. It was too natural for her body to mold to his hard form. "I like this," she said sadly. "And I hate you for it."

"Ash, I know things are weird between us. But … if you ask for my help …" He trailed off.

She heard it again, the note in his voice that sometimes appeared when he wasn't trying to be an unfeeling robot. She shifted her head back to see his face in the dim light of the bedroom. The glow of his eyes was muted. "No," she said before she could stop herself. "I don't want to ask you for anything. I don't want anything to be between us. Good, bad, other." Even as she spoke, she tucked her face into the nape of his neck so she could breathe in the scent that sent a thrill through her.

"You just fucked me like it's our last day alive. That's not something someone like you can walk away from."

I know. Troubled by her confusion, she traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips. "I want to kill Valon."

"No," Jonny said firmly. "This is between him and me."

"It's not that easy. He has Brandon. He has my brother."

"And I will get him back."

"You?" She pushed onto her elbows. "Why, Jonny? Why would you do anything for us?"

"It's my duty." He touched her face lightly and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

She rolled her eyes. "And I'm a means to your end."

"Yes."

She was beginning to think, though, that his interest was more than his duty. His lovemaking was too intense, too passionate, for her to be only a tool to him. Even now his hand was straying down her body, tracing circles on the skin of her back. If their history had taught her anything, it was that she never truly knew what he felt. She'd never known the real him, not four years ago, not today.