Chapter 19

CHAPTER19

There’s dim light on the other side of my closed eyelids when I wake. And I don’t really want to come back to consciousness just yet. I’m deliciously comfortable. And warm. I feel rested. Not the kind of rested where I’ve spent my energy healing. I’m talking about properly rested. And somehow… safe.

It’s that realization that kicks the first domino of thoughts down, striking the rest into motion. The bathroom. The blizzard. The blood.

The Reaper.

There’s a steady heartbeat beneath my ear.

There’s a heavy arm laying across my back.

And skin. A lot of warm skin. A cadence of breath that stirs the hair that’s fallen loose around my shoulders.

And there’s morning wood. Morning. Wood. Trapped. Against my stomach.

Fuck. My. Life.

I am unapologetically draped over the Reaper like a fucking vampire skin blanket. Who the hell knows where the covers have gone. I probably ripped them off to get closer to him. And he was probably awake when I did it too. I bet he enjoyed every single second. My cheek is resting against Ashen’s bare chest and I definitely remember him having a shirt on last night when he laid down next to me. So let’s just assume the worst, shall we? I bet I ripped that off too. I probably tore that fucker right off with my teeth.

Fuck.

Ashen’s breathing is deep and even. He hasn’t stirred. So maybe, maybe, if I’m lucky, I can roll off him before my embarrassment kills me.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Fuuuuuuck.

And there it is. I am officially deceased. I might look alive on the outside, as my blush will tell you, but my insides have died and dissolved into a puddle of scum.

Even worse, I haven’t even fucking moved. And now it seems I can’t. I’m frozen in place.

“This is a welcome surprise,” Ashen says, amusement laced through his voice. “Though I should likely be worried for my life, given how proximity to you has ended for me lately.”

I finally peel my face from Ashen’s chest and brush some of the hair from my eyes. I take a deep breath before shifting a fierce glare in his direction that clearly states this is your fault, motherfucker.

And goddamn, but he’s so beautiful, even in the morning, even being squished by a vampire for however many hours it’s been. It’s so… unfair. He’s legit angelic, and I’m one hundred percent certain I have leftover mascara smeared beneath my lashes. But no, not Ashen. He’s in tip-top shape, only made worse by the shit-eating grin that he’s barely even trying to contain. The gold flecks in his eyes seem to dance with delight. He looks completely at ease, one arm beneath his pillow, the other still draped across my back.

His grip around me tightens, just enough for me to notice. My glare intensifies.

“Where is your shirt?”

“You requested I remove it. I merely complied,” he says. My eyes narrow. His brighten. We stare.

“Now I’m requesting for you to put it the fuck back on.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence.

“I cannot.”

I suppress a growl. “Why not?”

“You are in my way.”

I try to slide off Ashen’s chest. My shirt must’ve ridden up as I slept and now my abs are flush against his. Our skin sticks and pulls against one another’s in the rising heat of the Italian morning. Ashen’s hold across my back grows a little more solid.

Asshat Reaper Motherfucker.

My glare brightens. Ashen’s smile grows. He’s clearly loving that he thinks he’s winning some kind of battle. But I’m a siren, for fucksakes. No one bests me out of a game of desire. Attraction and Annihilation and all that. I think it’s about time I start playing to win. But that means I’m supposed to have the upper hand. And right now I feel like I… don’t.

I need to get my shit together, and fast. Real fast.

I slide my other arm from where it rests against the length of his ribs and fold my hands beneath my chin to rest against his chest. I peer into the depths of Ashen’s eyes, trying to pull anything out of them that might be true. Right now, all I see is a shitload of self-satisfaction.

“You look pretty pleased with yourself,” I say, fighting to keep my expression blank even as my irritation scratches beneath my skin.

“So I should be. You did not try to wander again. Quite the contrary, actually. You seemed more than content to stay put.” Ashen’s smile broadens just a little when my eyes narrow back into a glare. He thinks he’s knocked me off balance. He knows he can get under my skin. So it’s time to even the scales, because there’s definitely a way to get under his.

With a violent push of my hands against his chest, I twist my hips beneath me and sit up, straddling the demon and trapping his thick erection beneath me. And just like that he looks… rattled.

Excellent.

“For a Master of War, you certainly seem overly pleased with winning small battles,” I say, looking down at Ashen.

“Winning any battle against you feels like an achievement,” he replies, and though his words are as smooth and polished as glass, I still catch the gleam of mistrust in his face. The last time we were in this position I did slash his throat, after all. A little mistrust is probably warranted.

I give Ashen a wicked smile. His eyes narrow a fraction as I lift my hands from his chest. I grasp the hem of my shirt and pull it up, my movement agonizingly slow. I peel it off, my hair flowing with it for a moment to fall back across my shoulders. He takes in the sight of my breasts and I hear his breath hitch, his blood whoosh. His hands travel up my legs to my hips, then the smooth skin of my sides. The ache I feel to have him fill me, to feel my body stretch and mold to his, and it’s almost more than I can bear. Almost.

I toss the shirt off the bed and look down at Ashen, feeling his pulse surge through the blood vessels trapped beneath my thighs. His length throbs beneath me as he takes in my bare skin. Only my thin sleep shorts and his boxers separate us now.

“Don’t get used to it,” I whisper as I lean closer to Ashen. His hands caress my skin, his movement slow and careful. The fire burns in his eyes. “You will lose more battles than you win. This one included.”

With another swift motion, I’m off the bed and on my feet, walking away. The abrupt separation from his warmth physically hurts. The desire for what I could have had gnaws and twists low in my belly. But I shove that feeling aside as I toss Ashen a devilish grin over my shoulder. I catch a glimpse of the naked longing on his face, and it looks as fierce and pained as it feels within me.

“You said last night that Zida is hunting me,” I say, shifting gears to rattle him a little more as I pull a vial of elixir from my bag and gulp it down. I retrieve a bra next and put it on, my back still to the Reaper. I strip off my sleep shorts and replace them with the nicest pair of panties I can find in the limited selection of clothes. Ashen doesn’t answer for a long moment, but I can feel him watching.

“That is correct.” His gaze is still molten when I glance in his direction. He sits up as I walk to the wardrobe and flip through the shirts on the hangers until I find something white.

I watch Ashen with a guarded expression as I slip the shirt over my shoulders and button it up. He looks about ready to rip it right off, but sits unmoving on the bed. “Did you send her to hunt me down? And Ningish?”

Ashen’s expression hardens, all that desire dissipating as though I just doused him with cold water.

“Of course not. No.”

I turn to face Ashen fully. I take my time threading buttons through their holes. “Who.”

“Eshkar,” he says, and I see no traces of a lie in his eyes. Then again, I haven’t in the past, and I’m still thoroughly unsure if that’s what landed me up shit creek before.

“You might not have been the one to send them, but you used it to your advantage. You followed Ningish to me. It’s how you found me so quickly the first time.” I put my hands on my hips and watch Ashen carefully.

“Yes. There was another portal not far from the one you took. He was able to pick up your trace quickly.” Ashen’s features are softer in the morning light despite the topic of demon snakes and dungeon escapes. But his eyes still flame. I look away before I can see anything in them that will pull too tight around my heart.

My gaze strays down to the tattoos that cover his chest, the geometric face of a jackal looking back at me. My eyes snag on the scrolling script beneath its muzzle. Shalasu Ningsisa, it says. Merciful Justice. I look back up to Ashen’s face and a derisive smile lifts the corners of my lips. Merciful Justice. What a crock of horse shit. Maybe the Shadow Realm started off that way millennia ago, I don’t know. But there’s certainly no mercy there now.

I turn away before the red light of rage can filter into my eyes. I rummage through the shelves of the wardrobe until I find a pair of jean shorts. “I’m sure your realm is missing their Master of War. Don’t you have minions to do your bidding to drag me back there? Although, maybe you don’t need minions, do you. No need to waste precious resources when you can just lure me to my own demise. Or so you think.” I hear the bed creak but I don’t look over. “That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? You must think so little of me if you think I’ll just walk myself right into your fucking dungeon.”

I feel my anger swelling with every thought that tumbles out of my mouth. I’m shimmying into my shorts when I hear Ashen’s quiet footfalls on the rug. Fuck these are really tight. And short. Basically ass shorts. It’s not even warm out, why the fuck did I pick these?

I manage to get my shorts up and zipped, barely, when Ashen stops next to me. I glare up at him, and he down at me. His expression is the perfect balance of fury and desire.

“You know a fraction of what you think you know, vampire, and most everything else you think is wrong,” he says, the scent of his inked skin filling the space between us.

“That’s super reassuring, Reaper. I think I’ll place all my trust in you right now. Please, carry me away.”

Ashen’s chest rises and falls with a long, steadying breath. A muscle ticks in his cheek. “I am not here to harm you.”

I move a step closer, setting my jaw as I glare up at him. We stand in fierce and heavy silence for a moment that feels longer than it is. “Prove it,” I say, and then I turn on my heel and storm from the room, slamming the door on my way out.

My smile erupts as I stalk down the hall.

There’s nothing a predator like Ashen enjoys more than a challenge. And there is nothing to stoke the fire of desire more than a gust of denial. Coming so close to what you want only to have it pulled just beyond your reach?.. Tell me it doesn’t make you want it that much more.

Yes, this is a game I can definitely play.