The Darkest Kiss. Gena Showalter

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      “Amazing.”

      “Touch me,” he growled.

      “Am.”

      “No. Me.”

      Understanding dawned, and with it an intensification of her desire. Maybe he did want her. After all, he yearned to have her hands on his skin, which meant he longed for more than just a kiss.

      “My pleasure.” With one hand, she gripped the hem of his shirt and lifted. With the other, she caressed the ropes of his stomach. Scars. She felt scars and shivered, the jagged tissue wonderfully hot.

      His muscles clenched against each stroke, and he bit her bottom lip. “Yes, like that.”

      She almost came, his reaction like fuel to an already blazing fire. She did moan.

      Her fingers traced the circle of his nipples before dabbling at the tips. Each time she grazed them, her clitoris throbbed as if she were touching herself. “I love the feel of you.”

      Lucien licked his way down the column of her throat, his tongue leaving a trail of sensual lightning. Her eyelids cracked open, and she nearly gasped when she realized they were indeed outside, leaning against the club’s exterior in a shadowed corner. He must have flashed them there, the naughty boy.

      He was the only Lord capable of transporting himself from one location to another with only a thought. A skill she possessed, as well. She only wished he’d flashed them to a bedroom.

      No, she forced herself to add, fighting a wave of despair. Bedroom bad. Bad, bad, bad. Bad Anya for thinking otherwise, even for a second. Other women could enjoy the electric press of skin against skin and naked bodies straining for release, but not Anya. Never Anya.

      “I want you,” he bit out roughly.

      “About time,” she whispered.

      He raised his darkly haloed head, blue and brown irises intense, before pinning her with another scorching kiss. On and on it continued, until she was willingly, blissfully drowning in him. Branded to her very soul, where she was no longer Anya but Lucien’s woman. Lucien’s slave. She might never get enough of him, would have allowed him to penetrate her then and there if she’d been able. Gods, reality was so much better than fantasy.

      “I need to feel more of you. I need your hands on me.” She dropped her legs from him, standing, and was just reaching for his fly, wanting to free his cock and wrap her fingers around its swollen thickness, when she heard a nearby echo of footsteps.

      Lucien must have heard them, too. He stiffened and jerked away from her.

      He was panting. So was she. Her knees almost buckled as their gazes locked together, time momentarily suspended. Passion-lightning still sparked between them; never would she have guessed a kiss could be that combustible.

      “Right your clothing,” he commanded.

      “But…but…” She wasn’t ready to stop, audience or not. If he’d just give her a moment, she could flash them someplace else.

      “Do it. Now.”

      No, there would be no flashing, she realized with disappointment. His hard expression proclaimed he was done. With the kiss, with her.

      Tearing her gaze from him, she looked down at herself. Her top had been anchored underneath her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, so the hardened pink tips of her nipples were visible, two little beacons in the night. Her skirt was around her waist, showing off the front of that barely-there thong.

      She smoothed her outfit, blushing for the first time in hundreds of years. Why now? Does it matter? Her hands were shaking, an embarrassing weakness. She tried to will them to stop, but the only command her body wanted to hear was to jump back into Lucien’s arms.

      Several of the Lords rounded the corner, each glaring and sullen.

      “I love it when you disappear like that,” the one called Gideon said, his irritated tone making it clear he didn’t love it at all. He was possessed by the spirit of Lies, Anya knew, so he wasn’t capable of uttering a single truth.

      “Shut up,” Reyes snapped. Poor, tortured Reyes, keeper of Pain. He liked to cut himself. Once, she’d even seen him jump from the top of the warriors’ fortress and luxuriate in the feel of his broken bones. “She might appear innocent, Lucien, but you failed to check her for weapons before you swallowed her tongue.”

      “I’m practically naked,” she pointed out, exasperated. Not that anyone paid her any heed. “What weapon could I possibly be hiding?” Okay, so she was hiding a few. Big deal. A girl had to protect herself.

      “I had everything under control,” Lucien said in that unaffected voice of his. “I think I can handle one lone female, armed or not.”

      Anya had always been fascinated by his calmness. Until now. Where was his lingering passion? Wasn’t fair that he’d recovered so quickly while she still struggled for breath. Her limbs hadn’t even stopped trembling. Worse, her heart pounded like a war drum in her chest.

      “So who is she?” Reyes asked.

      “She might not be Bait, but she’s something,” Paris said. “You flashed her, but she isn’t screaming.”

      That’s when all of their narrowed gazes finally shifted to Anya. She’d never felt more raw, more vulnerable, in all the centuries of her life. Kissing Lucien had been worth the risk of capture, but that didn’t mean she had to endure an interrogation. “All of you can just shut it. I’m not telling you a damn thing.”

      “I didn’t invite you, and Reyes told me no one here claims you as a friend,” Paris said. “Why did you attempt to seduce Lucien?”

      Because no one would freely consort with the scarred warrior, his tone proclaimed. That irritated her, even though she knew he hadn’t meant it to be rude or hurtful, was probably just stating what all of them considered fact.

      “What’s up with the third degree?” One by one, she glared at them. Everyone but Lucien. Him, she avoided. She might crumble if his features were still cold and emotionless. “I saw him, he appealed to me, so I went after him. Big deal. End of story.”

      Each of the Lords crossed their arms over their chests, a yeah-right action. They’d formed a semicircle around her, she realized then, though she’d never seen them move. She barely managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

      “You don’t really want him,” Reyes said. “We all know that. So tell us what you do want before we force you to tell us.”

      Force her? Please. She, too, crossed her arms. A short while ago, they’d cheered for Lucien to kiss her. Hadn’t they? Maybe she had cheered for herself. But now they wanted a play-by-play of her thought process? Now they acted as if Lucien could not tempt a blind woman? “I wanted his cock inside me. You get it now, asshole?”

      There was a shocked pause.

      Lucien stepped in front of her, blocking her from the men. Was he…protecting her? How utterly sweet. Unnecessary, but sweet. Some of her anger evaporated. She wanted to hug him.

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