“I don’t know why, but it’s different with you. There’s no rational explanation, but everything about you feels…safe.”
Slay found that completely baffling. “You know my nickname, right?”
“It applies to my enemies,” she said firmly. “You’ve no idea how reassuring I find it.”
“Why do we have to be surrounded by people?” he groaned, wanting her with every fiber of his being.
“We could go to the comfort house,” she suggested, a whisper right in his ear that sent pleasurable shudders through him. “I have news to report, and since we’ve been separated, it’s plausible that we’d seek out some privacy for our reunion.”
“You’re trying to convince folks that we want to fuck,” Slay said, “but the thing is, I do want to. Only if you do too,” he added hastily, aware he might be messing this up.
But damn it was hard to say the right words with her pressed up against him, smelling like somebody else. There was a fire in his head, along with a roaring jaguar, demanding that she smell like him and nobody else. This woman’s mine, or she needs to be. The sooner the better.
“I’m nervous but I want to try. Let’s go.” Quickly she stepped back but didn’t let go of him entirely.
Holding hands, they walked through the undercity together, not trying to elude any pursuers. Soon they arrived at the comfort house. This time, the bouncer recognized Rowena and waved her through, much to Slay’s amusement.
“Guess we’re VIPs now?” he said.
She aimed at impish look in his direction. Gods did he love the sparkle in her silver-gray eyes. “Hettie must’ve had a good time with you. I can’t wait to sample that mouth for myself.”
He nearly groaned aloud at the mere notion. Yes, please. Right now if possible.
The best part was, his enhanced senses detected whispers of spice. She wasn’t teasing him; those thoughts were genuinely getting her hot. He breathed in deep, savoring the faint hint of Rowena’s excitement and it fueled his own.
Hettie was waiting for them in a private room, but she didn’t seem to be in the mood for sexy stuff. She moved to Rowena and hesitated before offering her hands. Deliberately, Ro took them and squeezed, then let go.
“You came out unscathed,” Hettie said with an air of relief.
“This time. I have important news. Can you get it in the pipeline for me?”
Slay listened with growing amazement, awed at what Rowena had learned about Prince Alastor’s rescue efforts. “Fucking yes! We’ll be saved soon.”
Hettie shook her head. “You can’t count on them getting in. Our plans haven’t changed. We can use the distraction, but we’re sticking with the plan.”
“Understood,” he said. They didn’t get how buoyant Slay felt, though. Wondering if his people gave a shit, if they’d even bother looking for him—that part had sucked. “You definitely read that the Animari are on the move? Allied with Alastor’s forces.”
Rowena nodded. “The Numina are united. Tycho’s people couldn’t confirm, but it seems they may have signed a new peace agreement after the battle at Burnt Amber.”
“This is tremendously helpful,” Hettie told Rowena. “I’ll make sure Chantisse gets the information and we can plan accordingly. Now, if I don’t miss my guess, you two would enjoy some alone time. Feel free to decline if I’ve misread the situation.”
With a bashful grin, Rowena glanced at Slay. “If my intel is valuable enough to cover the price of the room?”
“More than, my love. Linger as long as you like. I’ll send refreshments in an hour or so.” Hettie fluttered her fingers with a teasing smile. “Enjoy.”
Fuck.
Once Hettie left the room, Slay didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Normally, he was the active partner, focused on giving. He’d fucking loved making Pru come until she couldn’t see straight, and that was the only practice he had in such matters. That didn’t seem like a good idea with Rowena when she’d been forced to submit against her will.
Ro stepped toward him. “Do you think…before, you said I could tie you up.”
“I did, yeah. Do you want to?”
She shook her head. “No, the idea disturbs me. But…I’d like to explore you. If you could just…hold still and let me? If that would be okay.”
Patience and self-restraint were not his strong points, but for her, he’d fucking learn. And how different could it be from holding back while pleasuring someone else? The skillsets were probably adjacent, right?
Gods, I fucking hope so.
Slay tried to seem confident when he peeled off his clothes and then laid back on the pile of cushions. He made a sweeping gesture directed at his whole body. “I’m yours. Hope you prefer hands-on learning.”
“I do,” she said huskily.
One good thing about the tunics and trousers, they came off fast. Rowena was beautiful, and he tried his best not to react when he saw all the fucking scars. Her body was a tapestry of them, old marks, lashes and burns and cuts, and rage almost overwhelmed his desire. But he couldn’t murder Tycho Vega right now. The wrong response would only make her feel shitty, so he closed his eyes and counted as she crept closer, adorably tentative yet eager at the same time. It felt like her gaze held actual heat, skimming over his naked body.
“You’re beautiful,” she said.
“So are you.”
Rowena swallowed hard. “Parts of me are. But it’s hard for me to be glad about it. My life would’ve been easier if I wasn’t pretty, if I didn’t draw his eye.”
“Fuck that,” he snapped, opening his eyes. “Yeah, shit would’ve been better if not for him. You had nothing to do with it, Ro. He’s the only one responsible for hurting you. It’s not your fault. And you’re still beautiful, every part of you, inside and out. I’m sorry as fuck he hurt you, and trust me, I’ll make him sorry too. But for now, do you think we can be together? Me and you. No more talk about that asshole in our bed.”
Resolutely she nodded. “Sorry. It’s hard because I carry the reminders on my skin.”
Slay pushed up onto an elbow. “Then let’s make some new memories.”
14.
That offer sounded perfect.
Trouble was that Rowena didn’t know where to start.
Rather, she wanted to do everything, and Slay was so gorgeous that she tried to look everywhere at once. He smiled when he realized she was slightly overwhelmed, but he didn’t move. Didn’t try to take over, either.
That’s why I feel safe with him.
“Take your time,” he said, his deep voice rumbling over in a near purr, shades of the great cat.
One day soon, she needed to see his jaguar form and show him hers. The Animari were sometimes strange about how the Golgoth looked during a shift. Hopefully, it wouldn’t alter how he felt about her. However that was. But this wasn’t the time for reverie or doubt.
Tentatively, she reached out and traced the line of his shoulder, the curve of muscle on his biceps. His skin was smooth and hot, a golden contrast to her pallor. Even spending time under the open sky hadn’t mitigated the pale cast much. His chest was dusted with dark hair that arrowed downward, drawing her attention to the narrow angles of his hips, and in the center…