later, warm blood dripping from his face. One step, two, he stalked, a predator locked on his prey.
Delilah stepped in front of him, panting, cheeks rosy from her climax. She didn't bother to cover her beautiful breasts as she held out her hands to ward him off. "Layel," she said, concerned. "Calm down. You have to calm down."
Not Susan, his mind suddenly shouted. She's not Susan. She had no right to be concerned for him. She had no right to kiss or touch him. He had no right to kiss and touch her in return. To drink from her, to rejoice in her pleasure.
The fire in his veins died swiftly, no longer even crackling. Leaving only ache and regret. He stilled, doing his best to catch his breath, as shame coursed through him.
Tagart stood in place, his expression gleaming with fury. "Come near her again, and I will not hesitate to kill you."
"Do not hesitate now, fire-bastard."
The dragon bent his knees to leap, but Delilah shook her head at him and he stilled.
"He wasn't hurting me," she said.
Tagart looked from Delilah to Layel, Layel to Delilah. "But you screamed."
"In pleasure," she admitted, bright stains of mortification climbing her cheeks.
Understanding lit his eyes, and Tagart scowled.
"Don't worry," Layel said, his tone colder than he had ever heard it. "I will never again approach her. She is yours." With that, he sprinted away as fast as his feet would carry him.
CHAPTER 8
A GONG SOUNDED throughout the deceptively tranquil night, followed by the echo of a whisper. Beach...
Delilah almost groaned. No. Not now. Not yet. Layel had just finished kissing her. During that kiss, the world around her had faded, shattering everything she'd ever known, before another anchor had taken over: his tongue, his touch. Him. And then he had walked away from her, leaving her alone with the dragon. No, he hadn't walked. He'd run as if demons were devouring his skin. Leaving her half-naked, aching, wanting. Confused. He hadn't looked back.
He'd left her just as Vorik had left her.
Hands shaking, she bent down and gathered what was left of her top. She hastily pulled it around her, tying it in the center - which shoved her breasts together. Wonderful. If she ran, they would bounce. Perhaps, though, Layel would like that. Silly girl.
Tagart didn't turn away while she dressed. He watched her the entire time through slitted lids, golden eyes bright. Bastard. "The vampire king doesn't truly want you," he said.
She could have sliced his head from his body for that, for voicing what she feared most. The vampire king doesn't truly want you. Layel had left her and sworn never to come near her again, lending truth to Tagart's claim. But...that passion could not have been forced. More than that, Layel had fought the dragon like a man possessed. For her. She knew it had been for her.
Please let it have been for her.
When she failed to respond, Tagart sighed. "You know very well that Layel is the enemy. Our enemy, not just mine, right now."
Yes, she knew that. It just hadn't mattered. She could have claimed her actions had been for the good of the team. A kiss to soften, weaken the vampire. The boast wouldn't leave her tongue, however. She'd finally discovered magic in the arms of a man. She had no desire to taint that memory.
But damn him, she had never felt so raw. What had happened with Layel...what she'd experienced in the vampire's arms...it had been a possession. For that brief time, she had been the most important thing in his life - and she would have betrayed her tribe, not to mention her team, for him. Would have followed him anywhere, would have begged him for forever.
He had given her pleasure, wildness, freedom to simply experience. She'd climaxed around his fingers, his mouth on her nipple. She'd felt the rasp of his sharp teeth, but he hadn't broken her skin - something she should have been happy about, yet she would have willingly given him all the blood in her body, if only she could remain in his embrace.
In that moment, he'd had absolute power over her. Far from angering her as that should have, she reveled in the knowledge. I could not have stopped him. Could not have escaped. She shivered in remembered bliss. She had been his captive, had worried about nothing and reveled in the knowledge that she was safe, protected, cherished, and could give herself over completely without any type of