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Burning underworlds.

“Okay, firstly,” she said, before she could talk herself out of it. “It will need to be your room. I am sharing a room with my brother, and unless you want to die tonight, round five needs to be in your room.” A light sparkled into his eyes. “Secondly, if you think that this is anything more than just sex, you are going to be very mistaken.”

He nodded, his white teeth biting into his bottom lip. “Just sex, nothing more,” he agreed.

The act of his teeth dragging along his full lip distracted her for a second, and she explored his mouth with her eyes. She shook off her moment of unfocused weakness. “Thirdly, if you say anything—and I mean anything—that leads to feelings or some sort of romantic gesture… In fact, if you say anything to make me cringe, I will cut your throat with your own knife.” She flung her glass to her mouth, the rest of the liquid to the back of her throat, and swallowed. “Got it?”

He glanced at where she had pinned the flower—the mistletoe—he had given her earlier this evening to the strap of her dress. “Do you have any more demands?” His cheeks drew in playfully as he trailed his gaze back up to hers.

“Yes.” She spun and began walking. Artem followed. “You need to stop asking questions. In fact, just stop talking altogether.” She flung up a hand. “It will be better for both of us. We don’t need these…polite conversations or silly compliments.”

She swallowed as she thought over what he had called her just moments before.

Intelligent, funny, and capable.

“So you are telling me that I can’t even make a single noise?” he asked as his strong core pressed so close to her back as he guided her through the crowd.

“Nothing,” she replied sharply before she could feel the effects of that warmth. “Not a peep.”

“Not even to tell you how pretty you are?”

She spun, her body slamming against his. “You are ruining it already. Shut up and lead the way to your room.”

He tipped his head back and laughed out loud. “You are something else entirely.”

“And you are one more comment away from getting that round five you desire so much knocked out of your cards. So I suggest”—she leaned into him, so close that her stomach brushed the hardness of his leathers—“that you stop talking and start walking before I change my mind.”

Breighly’s back crashed into the unit that held a few of Artem’s possessions. Weapons fell, crashing to the ground, books and trinkets tumbling with them. Artem swept one arm out and the remaining objects flew from the unit and onto the floor.

That’s the kind of attitude she liked.

Gripping his strong tattooed neck, her lips met his again, twisting against each other like they had been lovers for years. Her lips already felt swollen with how hard he had kissed her, how thirsty he had been to drink her. And he kissed her like she was the only water source in his drought.

She had to give the hunter some credit, he could kiss like fuck.

In one quick action, he lifted her onto the unit, sitting her atop it. As she parted her legs for him, he filled the space, and her dress came up to her waist in a flash. Her hands greedily ripped at the buttons on his silver uniform, unable to part him from the material quick enough. Frustrated at how long it was taking her to undo them, she sliced a sharp nail through the tunic and pulled it apart. The tunic of his regalia split in half and revealed every intricate detail of his tattooed chest and stomach.

They were beautifully shaded, and she took in some notes of colour. But there wasn’t time to explore the meaning of his tattoos, not when this wasn’t meaningful. Not when this was just sex.

Not when she’d sworn to herself never to get attached to anything ever again. Not since her mother had left them, and then when Eli died.

She punched at those dark thoughts with every kiss she gave to Artem until they were gone, nothing left but heat and sweat from their desperate passions. His hand wove into her hair again and he pulled her head forward into an embrace that involved her lips.

“I like kissing you,” he said into her mouth.

“Stop talking!” she ordered as she fumbled to find the button on his leather trousers.

His lips made their way down her neck and onto her shoulder, kissing spots on her skin that were truly tantalising. It was hard for her to focus on anything when he did that, and she relaxed, finally feeling nothing but his mouth on her. Numb pleasure.

Artem knew how to work his tongue too.

Good.

The trousers were about to get the same treatment as the tunic if she didn’t find the fastener, but Artem reached down with one hand and loosened it for her.

He wasn’t exactly slow in getting her underwear off either; in one swift movement, they were removed, and he hadn’t even lifted his lips from her shoulder.

She was impressed.