She stood there, in the silence, in the cool air, allowing him to examine every inch of her. And examine he did. His ocher gaze leisurely pursued her, lingering on her small but firm breasts and those bright red pearling nipples, the tiny patch of black hair between her slender thighs, a startling contrast.

"Now for the rest," she said, and slowly turned in a circle. "Am I still hurting your eyes?”

“No," he rasped. When she faced him again, his expression was strained. He even reached out.

Got you, she thought. Fighting a grin, she backed away, shaking her head. "No, no, no. You don't get to manhandle these perfect goods."

At first, he acted as though he hadn't heard her, and stepped closer. Then a muscle ticked in his jaw, he stopped, and his arm fell to his side. "First, it's rude to brag about your beauty, and second, it's rude to deny a man the right to touch that beauty."

"How cute. Etiquette lessons from a man who told me I would want to slay all the women he slept with after me."

"It's true."

She had to fight yet another grin. "I want you," he said, the words guttural. "Uttered to thousands, I'm sure."

"I can't deny it." His honesty pleased her. "That doesn't mean you won't enjoy yourself."

Goose bumps spread, a silent plea for what he promised. Touch after glorious touch, sensation after glorious sensation. Heat. The forbidden. He'd give it to her, too. All of it.

"All you have to do is ask," he said, "and it's done." You're stronger than that. "Excuse me, but I have a shower to attend to. I'm just so very dirty." Trembling, she glided from him and entered the enzyme stall. She didn't bother shutting the door. He would have opened it, she was sure.

Silent, Devyn followed. He didn't enter, though. He pressed a shoulder against the frame and peered inside as she programmed the spray to hit her at every angle. Then she turned back to Devyn, letting him watch as the mist formed around her, creating a dreamlike haze. That dry vapor dusted over her, sinking inside, cleaning her inside out, and wiping away any memento of the brutal murder the man in front of her had committed only a few hours ago. Even her hair was cleaned, her scalp tingling deliriously.

"So you're telling me that my watching you like this doesn't ... shame you?" he asked. Again with the hesitance. What did that mean?

"That's right," she said. "Why would it?"

"Before, you told me that I was making you reveal a body you'd rather hide.”

“All part of the game, tiger."

He cleared his throat, but couldn't hide the relief in his eyes. "Ever bathed in water?"

"Oh, yes. A long time ago, before the war." Now the wonderful liquid was too expensive to waste on something like bathing.

"Did you like it?"

"What do you think?"

His gaze fell again to her nipples, his lids unbelievably sexy at half-mast. "I think you did. And I can imagine you standing under the stream, hair dripping, skin glistening." He licked his lips, as if he could already taste the droplets on her. "Invite me in." His voice sounded as though it had been pushed through a grinder, savage with the force of his arousal.

Like every other woman of his acquaintance, she was sure, Bride found her resolve to resist weakened against his appeal. Foolish, but there it was. But unlike all the others, she would not give in to her desires. Old as she was, as long as she'd been around, she'd learned how to suppress her own needs. Wasn't that difficult, really, since the thorns and the fire plagued her even during sex. Pain always blended with her pleasure, her climax both a blessing and a curse.

"Beg," she told him. He wouldn't do it; she knew he wouldn't. She also knew it would horrify him to think that that's what she wanted. He would back down.

He rolled his eyes. "Invite me in, Bride."

"I told you. I will when you beg."

That air of nonchalance melted away, just as she'd predicted, and the muscle in his jaw started ticking again. "I don't have to beg for a woman."

She grinned sweetly. "Then you'll never have this one." There was a beat of silence. "We'll see." Angry, determined. Oh, yes, they would.

He grabbed the bar above him, back arching just a bit. The movement caused his T-shirt to ride up, revealing a patch of glittery skin and hard muscle. His jeans were tight against his erection, the tip straining above the waist and glistening with a bead of moisture.

"Is denying us both your way of punishing me for besting you?" he asked. He was mouthwatering, but she forced herself to shrug indifferently. "Maybe just a little."

"I can make you forget that you lost. Swear to God."

"I'm sure that you could. Just as I'm sure I could make you forget your own name." That caused his nostrils to flare. "You're that good, are you?"

"Someone once told me it's rude to brag." Though she was already clean, the spray continued to fall around her. She didn't switch it off. Her head tilted to the side as she studied him more intently. "Question. Do you ever worry about the hearts you're breaking? Or children being conceived with some random stranger?"

He shrugged, as indifferent as she had pretended to be. "If I break a woman's heart, I showed her a good time while doing so. And children? No. I never worry about them. One, it's rare for two different species to procreate, and two, I take precautions so that I don't have to."

She laughed, but there was no humor to the sound. "Precautions aren't foolproof, you know. They're —"

"Indeed foolproof," he interjected. "The drug I take comes from my planet. It's a remedy that has worked for thousands of years, killing the little swimmers before they can leave my body. Why the question? Do you want me to give you a baby?"

"Hardly." Look how raising Aleaha had turned out.

The shower finally ended, but Bride still didn't exit. The drops of mist faded, removing all pretense of a dream. Reality was stark, but so much better. She could see Devyn clearly, the disarray of his hair, the tension tightening his mouth. In intensified desire?

"Enough talk about love and kids," she said. Because sometimes she did ache for those things, but never would she reveal such a thing to this man. "What are your plans for me, Devyn?"

His lips twitched into that half-smile she was coming to love. "First, I'm going to fuck you."

So crudely put. Such a sexy smile. Both clouded her mind with thoughts she couldn't afford and weakened her knees. "I will not sleep with you." Another reminder. For both of them. And hell, was that really her voice? Low and raspy? "I believe we discussed that you need to be punished for betraying me, setting me up, and following me."

He tsked under his tongue. "I never said I wanted to sleep with you. And please, feel free to spank me.”

“Go get a paddle, and I will."

"Certainly. Then it will be my turn to punish you. It's only fair to mention that you stole a prisoner from me."

"You're keeping my best friend, my only friend, from me.

Now his eyes narrowed, top and bottom lashes fusing. Wow. His humor had faded so quickly, lightning fast, it was shocking. It shouldn't have been, she supposed. He did it often, switching from one extreme to another in seconds. "You'll get to see her, don't worry."

"When?"

"Soon."

"When?" she insisted. He bared his teeth in a scowl. "Today." Today? The single word echoed through her mind, and joy burst through her. So much joy she barely noticed the sting in her chest. Aleaha Love, in her arms, warm, sweet, real. Breathing her in, hearing her lilting voice. If not for the slight twinge of disbelief threading through her, Bride would have started dancing. "Really? This isn't another trick?"

"No trick. Now come here." He crooked his finger at her.

Happy as she was just then, it was harder to fight his appeal. "No. You come to me." Just to taunt him, she cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples to redden them further. Mistake. A lance of pleasure streamed through her, and she moaned.

Devyn expelled a ragged breath. "You're killing me. Let me take over."

"No." She traced her fingers down the plane of her stomach and straight to the core of her, fingers wiggling suggestively. Careful, easy. This is for his benefit, not yours. She watched him through slitted lids. There was a determined gleam in his eyes, and for a moment, she thought he might enter the stall despite their byplay.

He didn't. "You owe me a kiss," he said. The words hissed through his teeth, a demand. "And I'm collecting. Now. Don't even think about denying me."

"I won't." She couldn't. He'd already painted the picture of the two of them in her mind, his lips on hers, their tongues dancing. Gulping, she dropped her arms. Stepped toward him before she could stop herself. A kiss, only a kiss. She owed it to him, but she wouldn't allow anything more. She couldn't.

He backed away from her.

She paused, frowned. "Is this another game?”

“No."

"Well, do you want the kiss or not?”

“Yes. So come get me."

She stepped forward, but he once again backed away. This time she followed. He stopped at the edge of the bed and sat.

"No variety," she now tsked under her tongue. "I expected better of you." Too easily did she remember the last time he'd had her in that position. She'd straddled him, felt his erection pulse against her core, and she'd wanted to ride him. She'd wanted to forget that a quick bedding accomplished nothing but momentary gratification. That it meant nothing to either person involved, yet ruined all their further dealings.

He pursed his lips in question.

"Last time you had me sit in your lap, too. I'd think a man of your experience would know how to —" There wasn't time to finish her sentence. He'd jolted from the bed, grabbed her by the waist, and flung her around. She landed on the bed, bouncing up and down.

He was on her a second later. "You want variety?"

Again, there was no time to reply. He flipped her over and positioned her on her hands and knees, naked ass in the air and pointed toward him. Perhaps she shouldn't have antagonized him. There had been fire in his eyes, and every muscle pressed against her was hard, velvet-covered steel. She could smell him, a wildness to that rain scent. A wildness that teased her nose, heated her blood.

He leaned over her, propping his weight on one hand while the other clasped her chin and angled her face closer to his. Immediately he swooped in, his tongue plunging past her teeth and deep into her mouth. His flavor was sweet and smooth and hot, branding her tongue.

As his erection rubbed between her cheeks, he released her chin and cupped her breast, rolling the nipple between naughty fingers. The kiss continued. Desire pumped through her, heart hammering against her ribs. Her fangs elongated, and if he wasn't careful, they would cut his tongue. She would taste his blood, and it would be good, so good, she knew it would, and then she would bite him, suck him, drain him. The urge was already there ...

She tried to pull back, just a little, needing some time to calm down, but he wouldn't let her. He thrust that tongue deeper, harder. And when it scraped one of her sharp canines, and a bead of blood did indeed form, sliding down her throat, it was heaven. Sweet, calming, warming her stomach and spreading ... spreading... all over her, branding her organs, her every cell. Strengthening her. Nothing had ever tasted so succulent, somehow soothing her hunger.

"Beg for more," he panted.

More of his kiss? More of his blood? Desperately she wanted both. "No." Even as she spoke, she was biting at his lips, trying to draw him back to her mouth to take what she wanted.

"Beg, damn you."

"No!"

He flipped her over. He was still clothed, so the soft material of his pants rubbed against her skin as he plunged his tongue back inside her mouth, taking over, claiming her. His hand slid down her body, and he delved two fingers inside her hot, wet core without asking permission.

Moaning, she arched into the touch, sending him deeper. His thumb circled her clit, making her quake. All the while, he continued the kiss, just as before, his addictive flavor consuming her. All the while she bit at his tongue, taking more of his blood. Loving it, savoring it.

"Beg." He pressed her clitoris, hard, and she shuddered.

The touch wasn't enough to send her over the edge; it was just enough to make her reckless. Achy, needy. Her chest burned, and those thorns cut at her, but still she clung to him, nails deep in his back, hips writhing, head thrashing. "You beg me."

A third finger joined the play. In and out, in and out, they moved, mimicking the motions of sex. "I'm not the one who needs to come."

"Yes, you are." To prove it, she reached between their bodies and cupped his thick, straining erection.

He sucked in a breath.

Her gaze latched onto the pulse hammering wildly at the base of his neck. God, she wanted to bite him. Wanted, needed, more of his blood. It was powerful, addictive, those little tastes no longer enough, her hunger no longer soothed. Would she be able to keep down more than a few sips? Only one way to find out...

Time to stop this. She was too close to falling. "This is more than a kiss." She sounded drugged, her tongue swollen. "Only promised you a kiss."

"Beg me, and it can be a lot more, whether you promised or not." A bead of his sweat dripped onto her, hot and sultry.

"I won't beg. I won't." Take what you want. Whether the demand was for her or him, she didn't know.