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  “Maddox. Hurry!”

  “With my hands or mouth?” he asked, the words barely audible. The water was beating against her, slipping and sliding down her abdomen, daring him to follow and drink.

  “Wh-what?” She pried open her eyes, looking at him, looking at herself. When she realized what she was doing with her hands, she dropped her arms to her sides and blushed.

  “Should I touch you with my hands or my mouth?” He continued pumping his own hand down his swollen length, wishing it were her hand. Or her mouth. Her body.

  “Hands?”

  He didn’t know a lot about humans, but he recognized her true desire. She wanted his mouth to finish her. He wanted it, too. The need probably embarrassed her; well, he would conquer that soon enough.

  He dropped to his knees a second time.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, scandalized. In the undercurrents of her voice, however, were tendrils of excitement.

  Rather than answer, he licked her right where she needed him. It was something he’d wanted to do to a woman for years but hadn’t dared risk, too afraid of Violence’s reaction. In that moment, he was too enthralled to be afraid, and suddenly he was glad that he had waited. Ashlyn tasted of pure, innocent female. She tasted of honey. Passion and slick heat. Drugging, addicting. His.

  “Mouth,” she gasped out. “Mouth. Changed my mind.”

  He licked her again and her belly quivered. She flattened her palms on the tile beside her, holding herself up. Her hips arched forward, seeking more of his tongue. He gave it to her. Spreading her with one hand and pumping his shaft with the other, he sucked on her hot center. She moaned, she undulated, she writhed.

  “More?” he asked.

  “More. Yes. Please.”

  She was close, so close. He could feel her rushing toward release, could taste the abundance of sweetness. Bite. The urge scared him. He stopped moving. She screamed in frustration, and he clamped his jaw in aroused pain.

  Droplets of water fell from his eyelashes onto his chin. He wanted to brush them away, to see her more clearly, but didn’t want to move either of his hands. Air burned his throat, his lungs. “Tell me you want me.” While I calm down.

  “I want you,” Ashlyn all but shouted. She stared down at him, as if she couldn’t believe they were having this conversation here and now.

  “Tell me you need me.”

  “I need you.”

  “Tell me you’ll never betray me.”

  “I’ll never betray you.”

  At least she hadn’t hesitated. Something inside him softened, melted. “Where do you want to be?” he asked, the words almost a plea. Need me as much as I need you.

  Maybe it was the water. Maybe it was the steam. Her eyes seemed to mist over, a curtain of vulnerability falling over her face. “With you,” she replied. “Only with you.”

  Both man and spirit were staggered by the magic of her words. Humbled. Maddox again buried his face between her legs, tongue burrowing deeper than before. She sighed in ecstasy, one of her legs curling around his back. Her heel dug into his shoulder, but he didn’t care. Even liked it.

  Her desire flowed down his throat as he nibbled on her. Couldn’t stop himself now. Was helpless against his actions. He didn’t want to hurt her, and neither did the spirit. For once in accord, both wanted only to pleasure her.

  She reached the edge. Fell. The orgasm rocked her entire body. Her inner walls clamped down on his tongue, holding him captive in those gates to heaven. And when she shouted his name, he came. Hot seed spurted from him and onto the tub. His body jerked, muscles gripping bone in an iron clasp. Nothing had ever felt so right. Nothing had ever felt so perfect.

  Seconds—minutes? hours?—passed. In that timeless eternity he became Pleasure. He wasn’t a being ruled by Violence. He was simply a man who craved this woman. A man who lived in a world where light always stamped out darkness and good always conquered evil.

  If only…

  When he opened his eyes, he was once again Maddox. Once again a man ruled by darkness, living in a world where midnight always triumphed and evil laughed in the face of good.

  He was still on his knees. Ashlyn was still in front of him. He could hear her panting rasps and realized he was panting himself. He stood, disconcerted to note his legs hadn’t stopped shaking.

  Neither had Ashlyn’s. Her eyelids were closed, lashes in wet spikes. There was a blissful, satisfied aura surrounding her, but he couldn’t dislodge the sudden thought that he’d been too rough, that he could have been gentler. Tried harder.

  “Please look at me,” he said.

  Like butterfly wings, her lashes fluttered open. Those amber orbs gazed up at him, and she nibbled on her bottom lip, expression uncertain. “Yes?”

  “Did I hurt you?” Worse, “Do you regret?”

  “No and no.” She smiled that radiant smile of hers, sunshine in the tenebrous recesses of night.

  “How are you still a virgin?” he asked, dazed.

  Slowly, her smile faded. Embarrassment clouded her eyes, darkening the brown to a churning black tempest. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Please.”

  She peered down at her feet, hiding the emotion, the storm. “I never should have told you to ask rather than demand. It’s irresistible!”

  He would have to remember that.

  “Maybe I should have told you earlier, before we…But…”

  His stomach pitched. Should he want to hear her confession, whatever it was? Yes. Did he? No. Not now. He turned the water off and crowded her against the tile. He couldn’t predict the spirit’s reaction to being told this lushly beautiful creature had conspired against him. “Ashlyn—”

  “No,” she said with a shake of her head. “Hear me out. Just promise not to hate me, okay, and try to understand that I can’t help it.” Pause. Shuddering breath. “Here goes. You’re not the only one possessed by something you can’t control. I hear voices. When I stand in a spot where a conversation has taken place, I can hear every word that was uttered, no matter how much time has passed.” Her eyes landed anywhere but on him as she spoke.

  Maddox listened, shocked to the core. She hadn’t admitted to Hunters or gods or a vendetta against him, but to voices. He knew, deep down, her words were not a lie. They were too complicated and too easily disproved; true Bait would have opted for something less refutable. More than that, what she described made sense, fitting several pieces of last night’s puzzle together.

  Which meant she had tried to protect him earlier. Not for any ulterior motives, but because she had wanted to. Amazement flowed through him. Amazement and relief and joy.

  Now he understood why she hadn’t been too broken-hearted when he’d admitting to killing those men. Most likely, she hadn’t even known them. As he’d suspected, they could very well have hoped to capture her and use her ability to their advantage.

  His fingers itched for a knife; he wanted to kill them all over again. Calm down. They still could have worked for her Institute, and she simply hadn’t realized it. No, that couldn’t be right. They would have made themselves known to her, for they’d been close enough to hear and see her.

  “Why did you fear I would hate you?” he asked.

  “I hear secrets,” she whispered. “It’s hard to make friends, you know? The people who know what I can do want nothing to do with me and the people who don’t know can’t figure out how to deal with me.”

  The loneliness in her tone affected him deeply. He understood. But even he didn’t like the thought of her knowing—hearing—the violent things he’d done over the years. “What secrets of mine have you heard?” He tried to keep his voice light, but didn’t quite manage it.

  “None. I swear.” She gazed up at him with wide eyes. “When I’m around you, the world is silent.”

  She’d said that before. He recalled the expression on her face when he’d first approached her. Total bliss. She’d been savoring the silence, just as she’d claimed
. The knowledge humbled and baffled him, yet underneath both emotions was an unshakable pride. He had helped her. He, who was unable to fight free of his own torment, had somehow released another from hers.

  “You said you hear secrets. What have you heard about us?”

  “I’ve already told you. Most townspeople consider you angels. Some consider you demons. But all of them are in awe of you.”

  “No plans to attack?”

  “Not that I heard.”

  “Good.” He splayed his hands around her waist, lifted and set her out of the tub. He climbed out beside her and palmed a towel from the cabinet. After wrapping it around her shoulders so that the material draped and warmed her, he grabbed one for himself.

  “Good? That’s all you have to say to me?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  Surprise caused her mouth to fall open. “Well, now that I’ve told you, I’d like to call my boss and let him know I’m okay.”

  Maddox shook his head. “I’m afraid that is not an option. No one can know you’re here. For your safety, and for ours.”

  “But—”

  “It is not up for discussion. The answer is now and always no.”

  Her mouth worked open again, as if she meant to argue. But she merely said, “Fine.”

  From her tone, he knew it wasn’t. She probably planned to hunt up a phone the moment he turned his back. Women. For the first time, he understood what Paris meant when he uttered the word like a curse. He sighed. “I swear to you, Ashlyn, this is the best course of action for all involved.”

  Turning away from him, she patted her arms dry. Her actions were a little too slow, a little too measured, as if her mind were far away.

  “What is wrong?”

  “Lots of things. I need to call my boss, and I’m going to the moment I find a phone. You can’t stop me.”

  “That is—”

  Now she cut him off. “And even you, an immortal, have to think I’m weird after what I just told you, so I don’t know why you’re denying it.”

  He scrubbed the moisture out of his hair and wrapped the cloth around his neck. “You are not weird. I think you are beautiful, smart, courageous and most important, delicious.”

  She anchored the towel around her torso, blocking his view. “Really?”

  Insecurity that strong had to have been beaten into her. He scowled, determined to kill whoever had wielded the verbal fists. “Really.” Hands on her shoulders, he spun her around. Their gazes collided. “If you knew half the things that happen here, you—” He pressed his lips together. Damn, but he should not have said that.

  “You mean there’s more than stabbings and resurrections?” she asked dryly.

  Much more.

  “So what are we going to do now?” She splayed her arms wide.

  Though he wished to spend the rest of the day with her, he knew that he could not. He still had duties, was still a warrior whose home needed to be defended, now more than ever. After ushering her into the bedroom, he dressed, gathered a shirt, boxers and a pair of sweatpants from the floor and tossed them at her. “Put these on.”

  She missed every single item and had to bend to pick them up. With every movement, the white towel rode up her thighs. His cock hardened. Again. It should have been tired, but no. Not with Ashlyn. She excited him despite, well, everything.

  “There are a few things I must do,” he said, more to remind himself than in response to her question.

  “And you’re taking me with you?” she asked, tightening her grip on the bundle.

  “Yes and no.”

  “What does that mean?”

  No sense in lying, he supposed. She would find out soon enough. “I’m locking you up with Danika while I do some…chores. That way, you will have company and there will be someone to tend you and call for me if you become sick again.”

  First a look of panic shuttered over her face. Then anger. Her brows arched and the tip of her tongue traced the outside of her lips. “One, there’s no need to lock me up. I said I’d stay. And two, you’re telling me Danika is locked up? She’s a prisoner?” The last word emerged as a screech.

  “Yes.” Perversely, he hoped the affirmation would anger her further; he wanted to see that tongue again.

  “But, Maddox, you told me I was the first woman you had—”

  “I did not lock her up. Nor did I lie to you. Now, not another word. Please.” If she asked him to release Danika, he would want to do it. He would want to go against the others and grant her request. “Get dressed, or I’ll drag you from the room naked.”

  Silently, she studied him. Silently, she begged him to…what? He couldn’t tell. He said nothing. He couldn’t. Time was not his friend.

  “What is it going to be? Clothed or naked?”

  She scowled at him, her first real show of temper, and offered him a view of her back. Motions stiff and jerky, she allowed the towel to fall to the floor. Elegantly sloped back…rounded ass…His mouth watered.

  “I should fight you on this, but I’m not going to. Know why?” She didn’t give him time to answer. “Not because you ordered it but because I’d like the chance to check on Danika.”

  She quickly dressed, and he should have been happy those luscious curves were covered. No one else would be able to see her; no one else would have the chance to enjoy the view. But that also meant he wouldn’t see, and he wouldn’t enjoy.

  “They’re too big,” she said, facing him.

  She was right. The clothes bagged on her, but Maddox thought she looked delectable. He knew what waited underneath that material. He knew what waited for his touch—and his alone. “They’re all I have. For now, they’ll have to do.”

  A thought arose. Torin had things delivered to a P.O. box all the time for Paris to pick up. Perhaps Maddox would have him order dresses like those he had seen on the television while watching one of those silly movies with Paris. Low cut. Maybe high heels, too, and some jewelry. And maybe the sexy—what did Paris call it?—lingerie Ashlyn had wished for.

  “We’ll talk later,” she said, stomping to his side. Not a question, he noticed, but a demand.

  “Yes.” He tried not to smile. “We will talk.”

  “You’re going to answer all my questions. No evasions.” She stared up at him, eyes narrowed.

  Perhaps. “You had best behave while I’m gone. Remember how I told you it was dangerous to make me mad?”

  “What, you’ll spank me if I’m a bad girl?”

  The provocative comment surprised him. Gods, where had this little firecracker come from? He’d seen her scared, shocked, sick, aroused, but not feisty like this. Amazingly, the spirit did not erupt at her defiance. Did not compel him to lash out. He thought perhaps it…No. Impossible.

  The spirit of Violence did not smile.

  “You don’t want to know what I’ll do,” he said when he found his voice, “so do not tempt me.”

  She rose on her tiptoes, her warm breath fanning his ear. The hard peaks of her nipples abraded his chest. He waited, unable to breathe as he anticipated what she would do next. He might not know where the firecracker had come from, but he knew she excited him.

  “Maybe I like tempting you,” she whispered. She bit his earlobe. “Think about that while I’m locked away.”

  He would. Oh, yes. He would.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ASHLYN STARED AT THE splintered door that had just been slammed in her face by Maddox, trapping her inside another bedroom. Another prison. Oh! That man was infuriating. He’d tenderly, wildly pleasured her in a way that should have embarrassed her—had embarrassed her until that first wondrous lave of his hot tongue—and then he’d become a warrior again, hard and harsh and determined.

  Yet still she’d desired him.

  He’d threatened to lock her away with another innocent woman—a woman he had already locked away. Shameful behavior, to be sure.

  Still she’d desired him. Had even bitten his earlobe and tried to tempt him to f
inish what they’d started in that shower. But he’d resisted, escorting her down the hallway and into this room, where he’d dumped her without a kiss or even a word.

  And still she foolishly desired him.

  She wanted him to hold her, to cuddle her as she’d always dreamed someone would. She wanted him to talk to her and get to know her. And then she wanted him to freaking make love to her! All the way, this time. Nothing held back.

  This desire she had for him was too strong and she didn’t understand it. He was ruthless and cryptic and temperamental. He was spawned from hell itself. But he was also kind, caring and the best thing to ever happen to her body. Oh yeah. And he was silence. As if she could forget about that. Damn it!

  “Who are you?” a female voice suddenly asked.

  Pulled from her musings, Ashlyn whipped around. Danika and three other women, ranging in age from late seventies to twenty-something, peered over at her with equal measures of concern and fear. Dear God. Maddox had four women locked away? Was this to be an immortal’s harem?

  Well, you do have the costume.

  Danika stepped forward. “She’s the sick one. The one I—” she coughed “—healed.”

  “Thank you for that,” Ashlyn said softly, not sure what else to say to this stranger who wasn’t a stranger.

  Danika nodded in acknowledgment. “You look better.” Her gaze raked over Ashlyn before slitting with suspicion. “Miraculously better, to be honest.”

  “I wish I could explain it, but I can’t. Once the nausea passed, my strength returned. Seems those ‘small pebbles’ did the trick, after all.” Ashlyn studied her, as well. “You look better, too. You’ve lost that lovely green tint.”

  “Well, that was the first time I ever rode a man to fetch painkillers.” Danika anchored her hands on her hips. “So what brings you to Castle Spook? Were you kidnapped, too?”

  Ashlyn wasn’t given time to answer.

  “Who are these people?” a slightly older version of Danika asked. “What are they? Danika said one of them has wings.”

  If they didn’t already know, she wasn’t going to be the one to break it to them.