She nodded slowly, as if he’d confirmed something she’d already suspected. “So, you know what I’m capable of.” The knife flipped between her fingers.
“Yes.” Drawn to her beauty and strength, he took another step toward her. Lust pulsed through him, powerful and deep. He hadn’t desired a woman this badly…ever.
“What are you?” She took a step back, putting herself in the middle of the hardwood floor with an expanse of eight feet on either side of her, giving herself room to fight.
Smart move.
“I could say I’m your worst nightmare, but that’s so clichéd.”
“Then why do I think you’re not joking?” Her slender throat rippled when she swallowed.
“Because I’m not. I won’t harm you unless you try to hurt me.” For a second, she glanced at the floor.
She’s here to kill me.
He’d suspected as much. It didn’t matter, didn’t change the fact he still wanted to have sex with her.
Some might find that disturbing. He called it foreplay.
He curled his fingers inward and made a come-and-get-me motion. She frowned and glanced down at the knife in her hand. “You want to fight?”
“Isn’t that what you came here for?” he countered. Would she try to kill him now, or would she backtrack and seduce him, trying to make him lower his guard before taking a shot?
Maccus was more alive than he’d been in a very long while. Aware of the cadence of her breathing, the pungent scent of blood and sweat from her body, combined with the faintest hint of soap.
Morrigan stalked toward him, her long legs closing the distance quickly. Outwardly relaxed, he was ready for anything. The sharp blade remained loosely clasped in her hand by her side.
She walked up to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
…
It was official. She’d finally gone over the deep end and straight into insanity. What else could explain her actions?
This was the perfect opportunity to kill Maccus. But it was too easy. When he’d made the comment about being her worst nightmare, he hadn’t been joking. Everything about him screamed that he told the truth.
If she as much as lifted her knife against him, he’d stop her. And then he’d kill her.
Dying was something to be avoided at all costs. And deep down, she’d always regret it if they didn’t have sex. She’d been cold for so long. People thought Hell was fiery, but everyone’s experience was different. For her, it was cold. It was always being on the outside, never able to trust anyone, having to be aware at all times that someone or something might try to kill her.
But mostly, it was knowing that Lucifer could come for her at any moment and take what little freedom and pleasures she had.
It had been ten long years since she’d had sex.
She couldn’t trust Maccus, but she wanted him.
His lips were warm and firm and welcoming. He tasted masculine and powerful, smelled of a combination of soap and leather. She wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the caress. The smooth metal of her blade lay against his nape. He ignored it and kept on kissing her.
His hands slid down her sides and gripped her hips, his heat seeping through the layers of her clothing. He lifted her off her feet as though she weighed nothing. Her nipples pebbled in response.
His body was a well-honed machine of thick muscle and sinew.
God, he makes me hot.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to get closer. One massive arm banded around her back and the other under her ass, holding her easily. His strength was enormous.
Whatever he was, he was indeed a powerful creature, one who didn’t fear one of Hell’s bounty hunters. She pulled away from his lips and kissed a path along his firm jaw and down his thick neck before inhaling deeply. Not a shapeshifter of any kind, or at least none like she’d ever encountered. Not a vampire, either. Those creatures always seemed to have a scent of blood clinging to them.