Laylah stretched her arms over her head, her soft pants as beautiful as any music as she cl**axed.
His fangs ached as he felt the ripples tug at his cock, the compulsion to claim her with his bite almost overwhelming.
Then his own orgasm overtook him, making him forget everything but the shattering pleasure.
They were left to cool their heels in the dungeon until the following evening. Not that Tane protested.
He was recklessly content to share the tiny cell with his beautiful mongrel. An attitude that might have made sense if he’d spent the past hours sating his persistent lust. What vamp wouldn’t enjoy several hours of uninterrupted sex?
Especially when it was mind-blowing, balls-to-the-wall, best-sex-ever sex.
Instead, Tane had held Laylah tightly in his arms as she had tumbled into a deep slumber, clearly exhausted by the past few days.
Hour after hour, he had watched over her, refusing to allow anyone to enter the dungeon, including Uriel, in case they disturbed her.
Dusk was falling when he sensed that Laylah was beginning to stir and realizing she might feel awkward at having him hover over her, he left the cell so she would have privacy to pull on the jeans and T-shirt that Uriel had sent down earlier.
Offering such tender care was an unfamiliar experience for him.
He was a cold-hearted assassin, not a babysitter for vulnerable half-breeds.
Not that the pigheaded female appreciated his efforts, he acknowledged as he moved to block the door of the cell, glaring down at her stubborn expression with a surge of annoyance.
“We’re not going to argue about this, Laylah.”
“You’re the one arguing, not me.” She stabbed him in the middle of the chest with her finger, no doubt wishing it was a stake. Ungrateful wench. “I’m going with you to speak with the clan chief and that’s final.”
“Damn you, Laylah.” His hands curled into tight fists. “Victor isn’t a lame-ass cur like Caine who you can manipulate with a smile and too-tight shirt.”
Her face flushed as they both glanced down at the stretchy shirt that lovingly clung to every curve.
“Hey, this wasn’t my idea.”
Tane’s jaw clenched. “Believe me, I intend to have a long talk with Uriel the first chance I get.” “As if you have a say in what I wear.” It was a ridiculous argument.
What did it matter what she was wearing so long as she could easily run or even fight if necessary in the clothes?
Hell, his only interest in female clothing was how quickly he could get her out of them.
Now, however, the thought of any other male seeing so much of Laylah’s ivory skin and soft curves was making him homicidal.
“I’m your lover,” he said with an arrogance that brought a glitter of anger to her eyes. “I intend to have a say in everything that concerns you, sweet Laylah.” He shrugged off his gray hoodie, leaving him wearing nothing more than a pair of cargo pants. Not that it mattered. The chill in the air didn’t bother him. Wrapping her in the soft jersey, he tugged up the zipper and stepped back to regard her with satisfaction. The hoodie was too large, but it at least covered her from neck to well below her hips. “Much better.”
She held out her arms to display the cuffs that fell past her hands.
“Seriously?”
He reached out to tug the hood over her head, hiding her face in shadows.
“The fewer people who can describe you once we leave this lair, the better,” he smoothly improvised.
With a roll of her eyes, she shoved the arms of the sweatshirt up and over her elbows before regarding him with impatience.
“Fine. Can we just go?”
“As I was saying before you distracted me, Victor is a vicious clan chief who is notorious for striking first and asking questions later.” He resisted the urge to shake some sense into her. “If it’s true he holds a prejudice against Jinn he will attack before I can protect you.”
“I don’t want your protection,” she snapped. “I want answers.”