Yes. He hesitated. Although not Quinn. He is a former priest and, as such, immune to my influence.
It was tempting. Very tempting. If we could force everyone but Quinn out of the way, it would minimize the risk and make dealing with Hunter so much easier.
Because as much as I was trying to avoid a confrontation with Hunter, I knew it was coming.
But as easy as it might be to take that route, it was also an action that should be used only as a last resort. Taking away free will was never a good thing. Lucian had basically done that when he’d used magic to ensure that I was unable to resist him sexually. My intentions might be a whole lot more honorable than his, but it didn’t alter the fact that by taking away their freedom to choose, I would be forever altering my relationship with all of them. It might even destroy it.
And I’d already lost far too much.
You might have no other choice. Azriel’s mental tones were grave. I fear she will not accede to your desire to fight Hunter alone without some sort of intervention.
And I feared he was right. I sighed. “I better go shower before Riley gets antsy.”
“Do you wish company, or would you prefer to be alone?”
“That is the stupidest question I have ever heard.” I glanced down his bloodstained torso. “And a good start to proceedings would be removing those jeans.”
“Given the jeans are little more than an illusion of energy, that is no problem.” Even as he spoke, the jeans disappeared and he was standing there in all his muscular glory.
I had no idea whether Azriel’s energy form was considered handsome by other reapers, but when he wore “human” form, he certainly was. His face had a chiseled, almost classical look, but its beauty was tempered by a hard edge that spoke of a man who’d survived many battles. His well-defined body held a similar hardness, though he now bore scars from his more recent battles. One of them—a jagged tear that ran from the left edge of his belly button and up under his arm, slashed through the middle of the stylized black tattoo that was his Dušan, which all but dominated the left side of his torso.
“Better,” I murmured, then caught his hand and tugged him toward the vast shower.
The water came on the minute we stepped into it, and at just the right temperature. The needle-sharp jets that hit my skin both soothed and exhilarated. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation for several heartbeats before I turned around and stepped into Azriel’s waiting arms.
His lips met mine; warm, familiar, and oh so wonderful. We kissed, touched, explored, until there wasn’t an inch of me that didn’t burn with need.
Then he turned me so that my back was against the hard heat of his body and his erection nudged my butt. He kissed my neck, my shoulders, then reached for the soap and began washing me. The sweet scent of orange touched the air as he gently—lovingly—soaped every inch of me, and oh, it felt good.
But being caught between the heat of his body, the drum of the water, and the caress of his hands was nothing short of torturous. When I could stand it no more, I grabbed the soap from him and turned around. The water seemed to reverently caress every muscle, every scar, as it rolled down his beautiful body, and I followed its lead, soaping every marvelous inch, until he was quivering as badly as I was.
He reclaimed the soap and put it back in the holder, then twined his hands in mine, raising them above my head as he pressed me back against the wall. The heat of him flowed around me, through me, a sharp and delicious contrast to the coolness of the tiles pressed against my spine.
His gaze met mine. The blue depths gleamed with desire, and something else. Something that was raw and very human. I was his Caomh, and as vital to him as life itself, but the intensity of emotion so evident in his gaze had my breath catching in my throat and my heart dancing.
“I cannot wait,” he said softly, as he nudged my legs wider with one knee, “for the time when there is just you, and me, and the family we will create together.”
“Neither can—”
The rest of my words were lost to a moan of pleasure as he slid into me. He began to move, slowly at first, then with more urgency, and god, it was glorious. Energy flickered across our skin, gentle sparks that grew ever stronger as the music of his being began to play through me, and mine through him. It was a dance, a caress, a tease. It was movement, heat, and desire. It was an electric firestorm that grew and grew, until we were both more energy than flesh, and it both fueled the urgency and heightened desire. It was a maelstrom of sensations that assaulted every part of me, until pleasure was so fierce it was almost agony and I couldn’t think, could hardly even breathe.
Then my orgasm hit and I gasped, grabbing his shoulders, clambering up his body to wrap my legs around his waist and push him deeper still. Rapture exploded between us and shuddered through my soul. He cried out, his body stiffening against mine as he came.
For several minutes neither of us moved. He leaned his forehead against mine, his breathing harsh against my lips as the shower continued to rain hot water down on us, though its touch was cool compared to the heat still burning between us.
“That,” he said, after several minutes, “was very invigorating.”
“It certainly was.” I felt a whole lot better—and a whole lot stronger—than I had only minutes ago, and that wasn’t merely a result of great sex. I wasn’t only his Caomh, but his “recharge” partner. Reapers didn’t keep themselves alive by eating or sleeping or any of the other things humanity did. Instead, they mingled energies—which was the reaper version of sex—with those who possessed a harmonious frequency. Up until very recently that recharge had gone one way—his, although he’d always been able to heal me—but this time, it had been different. I was now a reaper in waiting and, in reality—thanks to his sharing part of what he was to save my life—more energy than flesh these days.
“Your aunt grows restless,” he murmured. “We should move.”
“My aunt knew exactly what was going to happen in this shower and would be shocked if we rushed.” I dropped a quick kiss on his lips, then unwrapped my legs from his waist and stood. “But given her mood, she’s just as likely to march in here and tell us to get a move on, so I think we’d better dress.”
We did so—although it didn’t take Azriel long. All he had to do was imagine his jeans back on. My borrowed clothes smelled faintly of vanilla and musk, which meant the jeans and the beautiful lilac sweater were once again Darci’s. She was Riley and Liander’s middle daughter, and the only non-twin in their brood of five. I’d grown up with them all, and no more wanted to endanger them than I did their parents. And I sure as hell wasn’t above using them as leverage in the upcoming battle with my aunt.
Riley might be fierce in her desire to protect me, but when it came down to it, I was neither pack nor blood. She’d fought long and hard to get her brood; given the choice between me and them, she would naturally always choose them.
And that gave me an angle of attack.