"This is crazy." Yes, crazy. But as she thought back to their first meeting, she remembered how she'd smelled two scents on him, both of them familiar. One had been Macy's. The other, his. Again her stomach twisted painfully.

His cell phone buzzed, disrupting the uneasy quiet. He checked the ID, muttered a curse, then placed it at his ear. "Yeah?"

A moment passed.

His expression hardened. "Don't kill them." Another pause. "Yeah, I'd love some. Tomorrow, though." There was a heavy tension-laden pause. "Later." He closed the phone and shoved it in his pocket.

As wonderfully as her ears were now working, she'd heard every word on the other end. Apparently three other slavers had entered her apartment, and Dallas had wanted to know if Devyn desired "a little alone time with them." But when Dallas had said, "Now let's talk about your promise to Mia," Devyn had replied, "Later," and hung up on him.

"What did you promise Mia?"

He blinked at her. "Excellent hearing, I see."

Had the other vampires not heard as well? Even sated with blood? "You're stalling. Tell me."

"I'm not stalling. I'm refusing to answer. Learn the difference. Right now we're in the middle of a discussion. A discussion we will finish."

Her eyes narrowed on him. "We're finished now. I'm not married to you. And if you're right and I need to drink from a man, a husband, to survive, I'll find someone else."

She never saw him move, but he was in her face a moment later, his nose pressing into hers, his warm breath fanning over her skin. "Maybe I'll let you. But not now. Not today. Today you're mine. You made sure of that."

"Fuck you," she growled up at him.

"Yes. You will. Many times, I'm sure." He grabbed her knees and pried her thighs apart, jerking her forward while inserting himself in the V. "You can't tell me some part of you isn't happy about this."

She gasped, but didn't pull away. "Believe me, happiness is not what I'm feeling right now."

A muscle twitched below his eye. "Well, then. I guess that makes you more like my first wife than I'd realized."

Wait. What? "You've been married before?”

“Yes. But again, not by choice."

Her confusion was only growing. "Then why—"

"No more talking. I've never been this angry in my life, and you're going to help me calm down." He arched into her, his erection brushing against her core. "Do you know how you're going to help me calm down, sweetheart?"

"I can guess." She hated how breathless she sounded. How needy. "No objections?"

"No. I'm angry, too."

Before the last word had emerged, his lips were meshed into hers and his body was pushing her backward, against the lounge. His cock was long, hard, and thick, rubbing between her thighs, insistently this time, making her wet, hot.

Her hands were in his hair before she could stop them, her tongue thrusting against his. His decadent flavor filled her mouth, drugging her, luring her deeper into the darkness of his passion. Just then, she couldn't make their current situation or the future matter. Right now he was with her, in her arms, hers for the taking, kissing her, touching her just right, and she'd been without him for days, an eternity surely, craving him, hoping for this very thing.

He'd lose interest in her afterward. He wouldn't be able to help himself. That was just who he was. He'd forget the whole marriage thing, and then, so could Bride. Her life could return to what it had been. Only, now she had Macy.

His fingers pried at the waist of her pants. When the tie refused to loosen, he ripped it in half and shoved the material to her knees. He had to pull from the kiss to work them to her ankles, and she moaned at the loss.

"Not done with your mouth, sweetheart. Don't worry."

"Hurry." She didn't want to come to her senses and talk herself out of this. She wanted him pumping inside her, deep and hard and forever. No, no. Not forever. Today. Only this once. "I ache for you."

One boot, two, were discarded, the pants finally free of; her body, and then Devyn returned, pinning her down, tongue wild against hers. "I want you. Have to have you."

She tugged at his shirt, jerking it over his head before dropping it on the floor. She traced her fingers over his skull-and-dagger tattoo. Such soft, warm skin. "I'm not going to beg you for it."

"No need. That's not on the menu until tomorrow."

She almost laughed. She did plant her heels on the edge of the lounge, widening her knees and inviting him closer. With a groan of surrender, he sank against her, the fabric of his pants wonderfully abrasive against her, the panties she wore doing little to shield her.

"Have you thought of me these past few days? Doing this? Touching you?" He kissed his way down her throat.

"I was too busy."

"Bride." It was a warning. He placed his lips just over her hardened nipple, his warm breath teasing her even through her bra, as if he wouldn't give her greater contact unless she told him what he wanted to hear.

As if she'd admit to imagining the two of them together like this. "Why do you care?”

“I don't."

"I didn't think so. So shut up and finish undressing me."

His eyes, already hot, became searing. He gripped her panties and jerked them down her legs. He bunched the hem of her shirt and tugged upward, her hair falling around her in tangles as the material left her. The bra he simply ripped in half, the front clasp no more resistant than a whisper.

Then she was bare. His gaze drank her in, his pupils dilating. His fingers inched up her naked thighs and spread her for his view. "Wet," he praised. "Pretty."

"Inside. Now."

Never one to obey, he lowered his head and licked her. She cried out, her back arching, hips shooting straight in the air. Reaching back, she grabbed the edge of the chair. It was either that or fist his hair and hold him down. Strong as she was feeling, she was afraid of breaking his neck. If she broke his neck, he wouldn't be able to finish this.

"Better than honey," he said, his voice tickling her. "Better, even, than your energy."

As he continued to lick and suck and nibble at her, he kneaded her breasts, attacking her from every angle. "Oh, God," she gasped when his wicked tongue flicked and circled in a naughty rhythm she'd never before experienced.

But then she thought, How do I compare to all the others? and a little of her excitement died. Did she taste as good as the others? Did she taste as good as Ann, Claire, and Madison, the three agents he'd been with and discarded? The beautiful agents? Did she excite him as much as the others?

For the first time in her life, Bride was self-conscious and unsure about her appeal. And she didn't like it!

Was he thinking of someone else even now? Wishing she were as violent or as sweet as someone else? Her hips ceased their frantic gyrations. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea. Maybe she should stop him. Maybe she should leave.

Then he did that thing with his tongue again, sinking it as deep inside her as it could go while his teeth scraped at her clitoris and she groaned at the heady pleasure. Maybe she could stay for a little while longer.

He inserted a finger, stretching her, his tongue now dancing over her. Her nipples were hard, straining. Good, so good. She wanted his mouth on them, too. She wanted his mouth everywhere at once, his hands enjoying her, playing her like an instrument.

"Yes, yes, yes." She released the chair to grip his head and hold him against her; she couldn't help herself. He could live with a broken neck, which meant he could finish. "More, give me more."

He did, one hand once again kneading her breasts, the other still pumping inside her. Two fingers now, filling her up, propelling her higher. The fact that the thorns and fire were not plaguing her added to her enjoyment.

Were Devyn's hands enjoying her, though? Had they enjoyed other women more? Women who were softer? Lusher?

Her grip loosened, the hottest flames of her passion cooling. Why was she doing this to herself? Why did she care what he thought?

Things were different now, she realized. Before, when she and Devyn had made out, she hadn't truly pondered the idea of him with other women because he hadn't mattered to her. His opinion hadn't mattered. She could have left him. Now, despite everything, despite what she'd told him, she liked him.

"Bride," Devyn snarled, his breath hot against her damp folds. "Devyn," she said. She didn't know how else to reply.

He growled low in his throat, pulled from her, and straightened. He unsnapped his pants and kicked them off, leaving his body as bare as hers. His erection was so swollen and long it reached over his navel. His stomach was so deliciously corded with muscle, her mouth watered.

His skin was glowing brightly, her desire glistening around his mouth. As she watched, he swiped his tongue over his lips, licking at the essence of her. His eyes closed, his mouth lifting in a half smile as though he savored the taste.

"D—Devyn," she repeated.

He was on her a second later, cock at her entrance and probing. Then he was thrusting deep, all the way inside, and they were both moaning and groaning and panting at the bliss.

He pulled out, sank deeper, and she clawed at his back. He pulled out again, sank to the hilt, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles together. What did he prefer, though? For his women to keep their legs off him and wide? For them to drape their legs over his shoulders?

"Bride!" Despite his savage tone, he gently cupped her cheeks, forcing her attention on him. "Are you trying to piss me off?"

She shook her head, incapable of speech. What was his problem? He was getting laid, wasn't he? Or was her leg placement as bad as she'd assumed?

He growled low in his throat, once more bringing her focus to his face. "Don't look away from me. Understand?"

This time she nodded.

Slowly he thrust forward. It was heaven, it was hell, it was everything and nothing because she needed more. Had to have more. Would die without it, but would die with it. Too much, too good. Nothing compared. His eyes glowed, hypnotizing her, holding her captive. And when he moved inside her again, slowly, so agonizingly slow, she cried out, the sound echoing around them.

"So beautiful," he said. "You are so beautiful. And my God, do you taste sweet. You're so wet. Clasp me just right. And did I ever tell you how addictive your energy is? It's raw, savage, powerful, and every time I even brush against it, I find myself hard as a rock."

His words were as electrifying as a caress, and she found herself drowning in him, all that he was, her fangs elongating. "Devyn, Devyn, Devyn," she chanted. She'd already taken a lot of his blood, shouldn't take more, shouldn't want to give him more of her own.

As if sensing her thoughts, he angled his head to the side. "Drink," he commanded.

Helpless to do otherwise, she sank her fangs into his neck and gulped him back. The instant his blood hit her tongue, she climaxed, pinpricks of white lightning exploding behind her eyelids. Every muscle in her body clenched and unclenched on her bones. It was the first orgasm she'd ever had that wasn't mixed with pain, and it was paradise. Pure and perfect and shattering.

"Devyn!"

A roar split his lips, and then he was kissing her again. No, not kissing. Biting her tongue and drawing her blood, sucking that blood down his throat. Taking her inside him.

Just like that, Bride climaxed again, and this time Devyn joined her, shaking, jetting hot seed inside her, skin now so bright the room looked swallowed by the sun. He released her jaw to grab onto her hips, squeezing so tightly her bones might snap, but she didn't care.

He stilled and then collapsed on top of her. She lost her breath and would have complained, but he quickly rolled to the side and locked his arms around her so that she couldn't move away.

In the ensuing silence, Bride finally did regain her senses. She glared up at the ceiling, gasped when she saw a lovely mural of angels flying through the heavens, and fought to compose herself. "Devyn," she began.

"I know. It was wonderful. Now let's just enjoy the afterglow in silence." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "You took more of my blood, you idiot."

"I'm not going to turn into a vampire, so what do you care? You nearly drained me again, and I needed to replenish."

Argh! "That's not what I meant. Last time you had my blood, you ended up married. Remember?"

"So taking more doesn't really matter, now does it?" he said, his tone devoid of emotion. "It's not like you can marry me again."

At least he wasn't yelling at her this time. "And anyway, we're not married.”

“You just said we were."

"Oh, just shut up and enjoy the afterglow."

CHAPTER 17

Never had Devyn had to work so hard to give a woman an orgasm. To his consternation, Bride's mind had drifted several times while he'd had his mouth on her. And during some of his best moves, at that.

Okay, fine. They hadn't been moves. He'd been operating on instinct alone, unable to think rationally, only to feel. To give and to take. And just when he would think, Yes, this is it, she's with me, she would stop writhing, stop moaning. He'd wondered what he was doing wrong and how the hell he could make it better for her. He did not fail, damn it. Not at sex.

Still. Never had he doubted himself so much, and never had success been so important. He would have spent hours, days, weeks, on this lounge with her. Whatever it took. There was no way he would have let Bride leave him disappointed. His pride couldn't have withstood it. More than that, he remembered what it had been like before, when she'd come on his fingers. Even angry as he'd been, there at the beginning, he'd needed that again.