Page 118 of First Offense

However, his hunger seemed almost ravenous.

“When was the last time you experienced a woman’s touch?” I wondered out loud, taking in the tension in his shoulders and abdomen. He was rock hard again, ready for another round. Not that I could harshly judge his reaction. Because I, too, was ready. As was evidenced by my arousal pressing into Layla’s heart-shaped ass.

“Essexton,” he said, his gaze capturing mine. “Barmaid.”

My eyebrows rose. “Fuck off.” I didn’t mean that literally; I was just shocked by the revelation. That had been…shortly before his Fall.

He gave me a look that said he’d heard that thought, even though I’d not voiced it out loud.

“Shit,” I breathed. “And you’ve been stuck in this cell with temptation personified for…” Well, I wasn’t sure how long. Several weeks? Regardless, that took a hell of a lot of discipline. And tonight, he’d been almost kind with her, always in control, managing the scene like he preferred to. “She’s lucky you’re a master of restraint.”

This served as yet more proof that he was still the Novak I once knew.

The Noir we were taught to loathe wouldn’t have given Layla space to consider an alternative. He would have taken her, forced her to her knees, and bonded her without any regard to her personal choice.

While I knew Novak had had every intention of claiming her, he’d never forced her. He’d given her time to think everything through. And had strategically moved her into the position he desired.

Through truth.

By listening.

And by telling—his statements always ones of purpose and value.

I shook my head, bemused and also not. This was Novak. And there was a reason I’d always enjoyed partnering with him.

Now it seemed we were mated for life.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad it’s you,” I admitted.

“Even though I’m a Noir?” he countered, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

“Maybe because you are one,” I replied, kissing Layla’s neck again before settling my head on the pillow behind her. She had both her wings curled around her, as she seemed to like to do when she slept. I preferred to sprawl mine out along my back, same with Novak.

She released a sigh but otherwise didn’t wake. Not that I expected her to. We had a glass of water waiting for whenever she did, aware that she would need to rehydrate. We’d also cleaned up the mess between her thighs.

Fortunately, she wouldn’t be able to breed yet. That wouldn’t happen for another four years or so.

A fact that made me frown as I glanced around our cell.

Would we still be here in four years? Or would we be somewhere else?

“Even if we escape,” I said, thinking out loud, “I don’t know where we would go.”

Novak considered me for a moment, his fingers stroking Layla’s wings again. “She can never go back. Not like this.”

“I know,” I agreed.

“And I don’t believe she can change,” he added, reaching out to stroke the edge of my wings by my shoulders.

I glanced backward, half expecting to find black feathers. But they were still white. Pristine and regal. A confirmation that claiming Layla hadn’t been worthy of a Fall. But had her taking me as a mate ensured she forever remained a Noir?

I returned my gaze to Novak as he withdrew his touch, his palm going to Layla’s cheek as he leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “I accept her this way.” He gave me a challenging look. “Do you?”

“Yes.” I wouldn’t have mated her if I couldn’t accept her potential fate as a permanent Noir.

“Good,” he replied, a hint of possessive energy rolling off him.

No, not possessive.Protective. He didn’t like the idea that I might not accept her. And he had every reason to consider that a possibility. As did she.