Page 20

19

EVANGELINE

M y mouth was coated with cedar and ice.

I was soaring, standing on the highest mountaintop and looking out across the world.

Malachi’s blood crackled through my system like a raging storm, filling my veins with molten fire, turning my bones to steel, power racing through me in an endless, roaring loop.

“I should take you back to your room,” he murmured; my eyes so heavy I could barely open them, floating on this delicious after-feeding fog of leaden tranquility and rushing energy that kept expanding like a storm inside me.

I didn’t want to move.

I wanted to stay crushed against Malachi, one arm around his neck, logy from feeding and more comfortable than I had a right to be, but…he was right. I really should be going.

“I can walk.” I blinked up at him, shivers erupting at how close he was. “Really. Just give me a minute to get my bearings.”

“You can barely even speak.” The faintest smile curved his soft lips, barely inches away from mine. “I’m taking you to your room, tucking you into bed and you’re sleeping this off.”

His blood was like putting a match to rocket fuel—something I knew quite a lot about—the power roaring through my veins at odds with this half-drunk feeling that fogged my head and turned my limbs heavy. But if this power kept growing, after a few hours of sleep, I’d be ready to take on Ravok.

Malachi gathered me against him, and I nuzzled my nose into the side of his throat, taking a deep inhale of his delicious scent. I’d never smelled anything like him. Ancient and forbidden and tantalizing.

I really needed to put some space between us, because this was the other side effect of drinking from someone as old as Malachi, the one I hadn’t fully taken into account when I’d practically begged him to let me sink my fangs into him.

I wanted the male, and this time, I couldn’t even blame his muted power, or even his powerful blood. Because this was…something else. Something ordained and forbidden and deep, a tangle of rightness and curiosity that combined, made me want to press my lips to his.

To taste.

To take.

To wallow in this heat building between us. To explore this urgent, forbidden want I’d shoved deep inside of myself and tried to pretend didn’t exist.

I craved him so badly, logic was some far-off whisper, and my hands were wound in his shirt so tight, all it would take was one flick of my wrist to lay him bare before me, to skim my mouth down over his chest, and even lower until I…

“Vicious, I need you to get ahold of yourself,” he growled, but his hand kneaded the curve of my ass as I pressed myself against him until his cock was trapped against my thigh, hard and thick and my core clenched with wanting.

“You’re the one who put the ideas into my head in the first place,” I teased, something dark and dangerous curling through me. “Making me get on my knees. Calling me a bad girl.”

“That was…before.” He closed his eyes like he was trying to get himself together. “A mistake, on my part.”

Outside, rain lashed the windows, and a bolt of lightning turned Malachi’s face into a black and white rendering, so beautiful I doubted there was an artist alive who could capture the yearning in his expression.

“It didn’t seem like a mistake.” My blood was humming with lust right now, and being this close to him was making everything so much worse. Waves of heat flooded my body, every nerve sensitive and raw, every wanting breath making his skin rub against mine with heated friction. This was worse than last time, and from the way his nose kept flaring, he’d caught the scent of my arousal.

So. Fucking. Embarrassing.

But there was no denying he was seriously beautiful, for an Ancient who had to be over fifteen hundred years old. Like out of this world beautiful, and maybe it was the blood coursing through my system, but every perfect feature seemed to be outlined by a faint halo of golden light.

“You can’t be in here,” he muttered, picking me up like I weighed nothing. “I’m taking you back to your room and you’re sleeping this off.”

Of course, to make matters worse, Malachi carried me like I weighed nothing, his hold firm but careful, as if I were something fragile. Something to be treasured. The scent of him—clean cedar, icy winter winds and all musky male—filled my senses until my head was swimming. I rested my cheek against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm as he powered down the hallway.

My bedroom door creaked open, and he stepped inside, placing me gently on the bed, his arms slipping away. Blackness closed in around me, the fire had gone out, everything was cold. He turned to leave and I gripped his arm. “I have to ask you a question.”

This is a mistake.

Be smart and just let him go before you do something you’ll regret.

But that was Rational-Evie, the one who was far, far away, while the rest of me was riding the rolling crest of lust lapping between my legs.

Every inhale fed me more of his heavenly scent and my fingers were banded so tightly around his tan skin, they turned the skin pale. I should tell him to leave. I was asking for something I had no right to ask for, but I was, for the first time in my life, feeling completely adrift.

And Malachi was right here, in front of me, his lips parted, only inches away.

Malachi’s golden eyes flickered toward the door. “Evangeline…”

“The roses. Why did you bring me roses?”

His lazy smile was intoxicating, eyes flaring with that ring of fire before they dropped, hooded in mystery once more. “Because you hate flowers. Or so I heard. I was torturing you.”

“I don’t hate flowers. Now answer the question. Why?”

“Evie, you don’t want to do this.” Sorrow glimmered in his face, a sadness that seemed as ancient as he was. “Regret is something you don’t handle well, and this is a road…let me put you to sleep, we’ll talk again in a few hours, when your head is clear.”

“The roses are from your garden. You grew them yourself, didn’t you? You picke d them yourself?”

He looked away, jaw clenching, but he nodded. “Yes. They once…were beloved by someone I was very close to. I still keep them here…in her memory.”

Oh. Oh . Some of my libido cooled.

“So why give them to me?” I sank deeper into the pillows, wishing I hadn’t asked, but now I needed to know the answer. “They are beautiful. Unusual. And the smell…” I glanced at the overflowing vase on my nightstand, the spicy scent filling the room, “I’ve grown to enjoy it.”

“Because I couldn’t stand the thought of you alone in that room, cooped up like a prisoner.” His voice thrummed with repressed anger; every line of his body taut. “Nobody should ever keep you trapped, Vicious. You’re meant to lead the battle charge, not be trapped within a gilded cage. Even under the guise of protection.”

“And…after? There were always flowers.”

“Because I wanted you to see something beautiful when you woke, especially when things were so grim.”

“You made them grim,” I reminded him, my voice softer than I intended, a raw hint of vulnerability slipping through.

“They would have been grim anyway. Collum was aligned with your sire long before Tyrell died—who do you think convinced him to return to the clan? Valaine became a threat the moment he laid eyes on you. I spent more time than you know trying…” He looked away, cleared his throat.

“I just wanted to make things a little better,” he murmured, turning toward the door.

“Why the kiss?” I asked, just as softly. “You could have demanded anything from me that night in exchange for Eldric’s life. A kiss seemed…insignificant.”

Insignificant . That’s what I’d told Blake. What I’d tried so hard to convince myself that moment was, but I hadn’t stopped thinking about the way he’d come apart afterwards, like I’d unraveled him down to his core. Nobody—not Riordan, not even Blake—had ever looked at me like that.

Like I was the foundation of their entire world.

I still couldn’t see his face and he shrugged his wide shoulders, taking another step away. “A token, nothing that meant anything. You got what you wanted and the scribe lived to read another day.”

My fingers twisted into the sheets.

I could let him walk through that door and this moment would be over.

We’d go to Sleepy Hollow tomorrow and face Ravok, then I’d go back to Crimson House and my life would settle into some sort of routine—if vampires had routines—and Malachi would keep his word and leave these shores for good.

We would never see each other again, just like I’d hoped.

That would have been the safe choice. The choice Old-Evie would have made, because she didn’t have time for romantic entanglements and feelings .

“Then kiss me again,” I challenged, tipping up my chin. “If it meant nothing, then another kiss wouldn’t matter at all, right?” Those wide shoulders tensed into a rigid line, his hands slowly clenching into fists.

The air in the room tightened dangerously, tension thrumming between us like a live wire. “Unless you’re scared it did mean something, and that’s why you can’t even turn around and face me, because…”

Everything disappeared and Malachi was all I saw, rising above me, pressing me deep into the pillows before his mouth crashed down on mine, not asking, not teasing, but taking , like a male who had denied himself for far too long.

And was done waiting.