The Darkest Pleasure by Gena Showalter Page B

for breath, she jolted backward. His arms fell to his sides, his features hard, tight. She wiped her mouth with the back of a shaky wrist. Her entire body was shaking. Her nipples were pearled and aching, her stomach clenched. A metallic tang coated her tongue.
    Reyes shifted, covering his jean-clad, swollen cock with the sheet. His cheeks glowed a rosy pink shade. Was he embarrassed? Blood trickled from his neck and swirled down his chest like a tiny, winding river. As she watched, the blood dried and the bite marks partially healed, already scabbing.
    Monster, she reminded herself. He’s a monster.
    Horror—at her feelings, her actions, and his—washed through her. Must have coated her expression, too, because he said, “Do not touch me again, and I will not touch you.”
    “Don’t worry.” A violent tremor overtook her, and she crossed her arms over her middle. She’d wanted to hurt him, had liked it even. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? “I won’t come near you.”
    “Good.” He paused, his eyes perusing her body. Checking for injuries or something more erotic? “What did those men do to you?” He sounded unemotional now, her answer clearly of no importance.
    That nonchalance irritated her. She hated him, so why did she want him to care? “They—” A wave of dizziness suddenly attacked her. A groan pierced the air. Hers, she realized. Her eyelids closed, so heavy she could no longer hold them open. Her adrenaline had crashed, she supposed, draining her strength.
    How long since she’d eaten? Stefano hadn’t fed her, had only given her sips of water every few hours. And he’d injected her with something. Something that had spun her mind out of control, tossing it into the sky before dropping it into a churning ocean to be ripped into a thousand pieces.
    “We can’t make it too easy for them,” Stefano had said. “We knew the demon of Death would follow the trail we left him, and that he’d have no idea we were expecting him. We worked hard to make this abduction look real and I won’t fail in that endeavor now. No food, no fresh clothes. We can drug you or we can beat you. Which do you prefer?”
    “Neither.”
    “Choose or I’ll choose for you. Don’t forget, Danika, you’re doing this for your family.”
    “So much for my training,” she’d laughed resentfully. “Drug me. Again, apparently.”
    “Danika, what did those men do to you?”
    Present collided with past, tearing her from those surreal musings. Stupid girl . Do not relax your guard in front of Reyes!
    She pried her eyelashes apart. The world around her was blurred, Reyes nothing more than a dark slash directly in front of her. His fingers were gripping her shoulders and urging her down…gently…softly. As her vision cleared, she saw that his usually harsh features now seemed almost tender with concern.
    “No touching,” she told him, the words slurred. Delicious heat once again enveloped her. Perhaps the demon blood she’d ingested was responsible. “We agreed.”
    “Shhh.” His breath caressed her cheek, as warm as his touch. “Relax. We will talk later.”
    “Go to hell.”
    He had no trouble understanding her. “Didn’t we once have this very conversation? I’m already there.”
    Fight this . Fight him! She tried, she really did, but a dark tunnel beckoned her, dragging her closer and closer to the edge. “Where is…my mom? My sister? Grandma?”
    “I’m sure they are fine.” Fingers brushed her brow, softly smoothing her hair behind her ears.
    “I want…to see…them. I won’t…sleep. Can’t make me. Hungry.”
    “I’ll feed you.” A petal-soft press of…lips? Yes, lips against the corner of her mouth.
    She inhaled deeply, suddenly drowning in the scent of man and spice and inexplicably happy for it. “Hate you,” she said, wishing she meant it.
    “I know.” He whispered directly in her ear, his warm breath traveling inside. “Sleep now, angel. You are safe. I will allow nothing