Archangel's Shadows
Page 123
Having put the bottle on the counter, Ash pumped her fists in the air . . . then frowned. “Wait a minute. Everyone said it might take over a year for him to regain any voluntary movement below the neck and he has an entire hand already?”
Janvier’s eyes glinted. “Something is afoot, but I do not know what.” Palms braced on the counter on either side of her after he put his bottle down, too, he said, “Aodhan was responsible for Vivek’s Making, but there are rumors Keir was in the room at the time. He must’ve done something.”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter if we ever figure out what,” Ashwini said, though her curiosity was a sharp, nibbling creature inside her. “I’m happy for V.”
“Yes.” He picked up her bottle of blood. “You have to drink, sugar.”
Running her fingernails over his scalp, to his shiver, she leaned in to nuzzle at his throat. “I don’t like cold blood.”
Janvier wove his hand into her hair, unraveling her braid and holding her to his neck. “Then it is a good thing I am addicted to your bite.” He jerked slightly when she sank her fangs into him, his pulse thudding as the taste of him—hot, dark, sinful—filled her mouth.
Unlike Janvier, she couldn’t give pleasure with her bite, but that wasn’t a problem. Not when the two of them always ended up naked after she fed from him, the erotic connection so powerful that they were helpless to fight it. It was why she could never, ever feed from him in public. Her own pulse a racing train, she fumbled with his pants as he tore down the sweats she’d worn for their session, taking her panties with it.
He thrust his hand between her thighs, drove two fingers into her before she could push his own pants down. Crying out, she clung to his shoulders. Her brain was hazy, her balance off. They went to the floor in a tangle of limbs the next second, Janvier twisting to take the brunt of the impact—without ever stopping in his caresses.
Tugging desperately at his workout pants and underwear, she managed to free his cock and realized to her frustration that her sweats were caught at her knees, leaving her unable to straddle him. Janvier gave her no time to sit up to finish the task; he flipped them . . . and then he flipped her. Tugging her up onto her knees, he thrust into her from behind, his entry shockingly, searingly tight because of the way her legs were held together.
Sweat, heat . . . his fangs sinking into her shoulder . . . and boom.
• • •
“We really need to get a handle on that,” she said some time later, her legs finally free of clothing.
She was on top of Janvier, licking up the two thin trails of blood that had escaped her bite because she hadn’t had the presence of mind to seal the wound before he blew her brains out. That wound was now healing, but he’d carry the bruise for a few days. She kinda liked that, which was why she kept biting him on the neck.
“Why?” He ran his hand down her back and over her butt, luxuriating in her body with an earthy sensuality that made her boneless. “I’m not complaining about quickies straight out of a porn movie.”
She snorted with laughter. “Porn? Seriously?”
His slow, wicked smile caught her heart, made her glad all over again that she’d taken the jump into the unknown. “Didn’t we do it on the bathroom floor last night?” he said. “Today, I have you sans pants in the kitchen. Seems pornish to me.”
Bursting out laughing again, she kissed his gorgeous, playful mouth. “Is this normal? The insane sexual connection?”
“Not that I’ve heard. It is our little gift.” He squeezed her butt. “One that I hope will continue for a long, long, long time.”
Sitting up on him, the T-shirt she’d worn to work out in doing its best to preserve her modesty—and failing spectacularly, if the glint in his eye was any indication—she pushed back her hair and spread her hands over his chest. “I’m happy, Janvier.” A whispered confession. “I’m so happy to be here, to be with you. It hurts my heart, the happiness.”
His amusement faded, his expression naked with emotion. “Your heart bruise is a perfect match to mine.” Tugging her down, he cupped the sides of her face, spoke words low and rough that made her feel whole in parts she hadn’t even known were broken.
“Marry me,” she whispered. “I’ll show you things that’ll make you laugh in delight, scream in passion, cry for the sheer joy of it.”
The light in his eyes, it was her whole world. “Done.”
Janvier’s eyes glinted. “Something is afoot, but I do not know what.” Palms braced on the counter on either side of her after he put his bottle down, too, he said, “Aodhan was responsible for Vivek’s Making, but there are rumors Keir was in the room at the time. He must’ve done something.”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter if we ever figure out what,” Ashwini said, though her curiosity was a sharp, nibbling creature inside her. “I’m happy for V.”
“Yes.” He picked up her bottle of blood. “You have to drink, sugar.”
Running her fingernails over his scalp, to his shiver, she leaned in to nuzzle at his throat. “I don’t like cold blood.”
Janvier wove his hand into her hair, unraveling her braid and holding her to his neck. “Then it is a good thing I am addicted to your bite.” He jerked slightly when she sank her fangs into him, his pulse thudding as the taste of him—hot, dark, sinful—filled her mouth.
Unlike Janvier, she couldn’t give pleasure with her bite, but that wasn’t a problem. Not when the two of them always ended up naked after she fed from him, the erotic connection so powerful that they were helpless to fight it. It was why she could never, ever feed from him in public. Her own pulse a racing train, she fumbled with his pants as he tore down the sweats she’d worn for their session, taking her panties with it.
He thrust his hand between her thighs, drove two fingers into her before she could push his own pants down. Crying out, she clung to his shoulders. Her brain was hazy, her balance off. They went to the floor in a tangle of limbs the next second, Janvier twisting to take the brunt of the impact—without ever stopping in his caresses.
Tugging desperately at his workout pants and underwear, she managed to free his cock and realized to her frustration that her sweats were caught at her knees, leaving her unable to straddle him. Janvier gave her no time to sit up to finish the task; he flipped them . . . and then he flipped her. Tugging her up onto her knees, he thrust into her from behind, his entry shockingly, searingly tight because of the way her legs were held together.
Sweat, heat . . . his fangs sinking into her shoulder . . . and boom.
• • •
“We really need to get a handle on that,” she said some time later, her legs finally free of clothing.
She was on top of Janvier, licking up the two thin trails of blood that had escaped her bite because she hadn’t had the presence of mind to seal the wound before he blew her brains out. That wound was now healing, but he’d carry the bruise for a few days. She kinda liked that, which was why she kept biting him on the neck.
“Why?” He ran his hand down her back and over her butt, luxuriating in her body with an earthy sensuality that made her boneless. “I’m not complaining about quickies straight out of a porn movie.”
She snorted with laughter. “Porn? Seriously?”
His slow, wicked smile caught her heart, made her glad all over again that she’d taken the jump into the unknown. “Didn’t we do it on the bathroom floor last night?” he said. “Today, I have you sans pants in the kitchen. Seems pornish to me.”
Bursting out laughing again, she kissed his gorgeous, playful mouth. “Is this normal? The insane sexual connection?”
“Not that I’ve heard. It is our little gift.” He squeezed her butt. “One that I hope will continue for a long, long, long time.”
Sitting up on him, the T-shirt she’d worn to work out in doing its best to preserve her modesty—and failing spectacularly, if the glint in his eye was any indication—she pushed back her hair and spread her hands over his chest. “I’m happy, Janvier.” A whispered confession. “I’m so happy to be here, to be with you. It hurts my heart, the happiness.”
His amusement faded, his expression naked with emotion. “Your heart bruise is a perfect match to mine.” Tugging her down, he cupped the sides of her face, spoke words low and rough that made her feel whole in parts she hadn’t even known were broken.
“Marry me,” she whispered. “I’ll show you things that’ll make you laugh in delight, scream in passion, cry for the sheer joy of it.”
The light in his eyes, it was her whole world. “Done.”
