Sylvia Day - A Touch of Crimson

There was so little time. Vash had recognized Lindsay as Shadoe; there was no other reason for why she would’ve allowed Lindsay to live. At this very moment, Syre knew his daughter had returned. The Fallen leader would be weighing his options. He’d be consulting those he trusted, gathering data, and deciding what to do with it. Adrian had to get to him before that decision was made.

Then he had to get to Vashti. The attack on Lindsay’s mother had been so unlike Syre’s second that it could only have been done as a message to Adrian. Vash had to have known Lindsay was Shadoe and anticipated his learning of the murder when they inevitably met. The few decades in between were nothing to an immortal, the wait inconsequential.

The question was: why? If she’d known who Lindsay was that long ago, why not tell Syre? Adrian intended to get the answer directly from the source.

Damn it. He hated hunting like this-too poorly thought out, too hasty. That was why, in all of Shadoe’s past incarnations, he’d waited for Syre to come to him. Better to face his opponent on his home turf, where every advantage was at his fingertips. But sometimes a swift, foolhardy strike was just what was needed to slip beneath an enemy’s defenses. He prayed that was the case this time, because he was going for it. Because this time was different. Lindsay was different. He was different with her. That was worth whatever price he would pay.

His gaze darted to the clock on the nightstand. It was shortly before midnight. Blessedly, Lindsay had stopped crying around ten, then fallen asleep. Every sob from her room had cut him deeper and deeper until now his heart bled steadily. It had never been like this between them. In the past, she’d always swiftly wiled her way into his bed and stayed there. In any other incarnation, he’d be in her arms now. Holding her, making love to her, choosing not to rush the inevitable confrontation with Syre, so that he could steal one more day with the woman he loved.

Now he had a flight booked that would take him to Raceport in a few short hours. He was traveling alone, flying commercial, and arriving just after sunrise. The time of day wouldn’t affect Syre, but it would limit the number of minions Adrian had to contend with.

He was shoving another henley into his bag when he heard her whimper. He stilled, his senses zeroing in on the woman who was sleeping in the room next door. The mattress sighed as she moved; then a soft, sultry moan drifted over his senses.

Gooseflesh spread across Adrian’s skin. He moved away from his bed, stepping closer to the wall, although proximity wasn’t required. He could be up at the lycan barracks and still hear her breathing as if his ear were pressed to her chest.

She began panting, then writhing. Another whimper shook him.

Incapable of resisting her when their time together was nearly at an end, Adrian left his room and moved the short distance down the hall to her door. He released the lock with an impatient thought and entered.

Her bedroom was shrouded in darkness. The drapes were drawn to block the views of the city in the distance. He closed the door behind him and moved silently toward the bed, his vision seeing her as clearly as if every light were on.

Lindsay had kicked off the covers. She twisted on the bed with sensual abandon, the lush scent of her desire going to his head and intoxicating him. Her hands cupped her breasts, squeezing through the satin of the tank top that matched the thong she wore.

Her back arched, offering up her beautiful breasts like a gift.

“Adrian…”

He sucked in a sharp breath at the erotic invitation in her voice. Reaching down, he rubbed the aching length of his erection through his slacks, his blood flowing hot and thick through his veins. He was so turned on by the willingness she displayed while sleeping, a willingness she denied him while awake because she cared for him. He understood the affection that motivated her. If she didn’t love him, she wouldn’t deny the needs that haunted her even in dreams.

Knowing he shouldn’t, he willed his clothes into a haphazard pile on the floor. The cool night air felt good against his heated skin, almost like a caress from her hands. Lindsay gave another soft moan. His knee settled on the bed.

As the mattress dipped with his weight, her eyes flew open.

“Adrian,” she whispered, rolling swiftly into his arms.

He groaned as her mouth pressed ardently to his, her tongue thrusting with a hunger that made his cockhead slick with wanting her. She pushed him back, tossing one silken leg across his hips and reaching between them to grip his cock in her slender hand. His neck arched with the pleasure of her touch, of her desire, of her lust given without reserve for the very first time.

She pressed down, the humid warmth of her sex soaking through the satin of her thong and searing the sensitive skin of his erection. Needing to feel her skin bare against his, he fisted her underwear, ripping it off her body. A hard shiver moved through him at how wet she was. The petal-soft feel of her denuded lips stroking along his length nearly brought him to climax.

“ Ani rotza otha, Adrian.” She purred, gliding her slick sex back and forth over him.

I want you.

He froze, his heart stilling in his chest. He knew that seductive tone all too well. “Shadoe?”

She reared up, her hands sliding into Lindsay’s sexy blond curls, undulating Lindsay’s body as she weaved her sensual spell over him.

But it was no longer lust he felt as Shadoe’s soul stared back at him from Lindsay’s beautiful face.

A shivering exhalation left him.

She’d lured him like this the very first time. It started with a stolen kiss. Then the taste of her breasts, offered up to him with both of her hands, the dark brown nipples peaked tight in the open air. He’d begged her to leave him in peace, to respect the very law he had enforced on her father. He’d begged her to be strong for him because he had been so weak over her.

Instead, she’d grown bolder with every month that passed. She had played with her body in front of him, deliberately haunting the places he frequented, teasing him with the sight of her glistening fingers pushing in and out of her pouting sex until she climaxed with his name on her lips. He’d resisted her until she threatened to take a lover to her bed, then made sure he stumbled upon her fondling another man’s cock through his clothes. Angry, possessive, tempted beyond reason, Adrian had given her what she’d been asking him for, taking her on the ground like an animal in heat. And once he’d fallen, there had been no turning back.

“Ani rotza otha,” she said again, her hips rocking almost violently over him, riding him toward orgasm.

“No, tzel .”

He caught her by the hips and rolled her off him, then moved away. Gaining his feet, he ran his hands through his hair, painfully aroused by the feel of Lindsay, the scent of her, the sound of her voice.

But it wasn’t Lindsay who called to him from the bed behind him.

“Ani ohevet otchah,” Shadoe whispered, rustling the sheets with sinuous movements.

I love you.

Adrian squeezed his eyes shut. His wings burst free and flexed angrily. He should have known better. Lindsay would never seduce him. She would have denied him, as she’d been trying to do from the beginning. For his sake. Because she loved him.

He willed his clothes back on, then shoved his hands through his hair. When Shadoe’s hand touched his bare shoulder, he grabbed it and spun, facing her.

“Take me,” she whispered, standing naked before him, possessing the body that so perfectly fit his, that held him so sweetly, that gave him such pleasure he wept with the power of it.