Guardian Demon (GUARDIAN SERIES) (43 page)

Though she couldn’t even say the last part without starting to laugh. And his grin in response was just gorgeous, but it was his reply that stole her breath.

“Not ‘some chick.’ You. Only you.”

“Okay. Me.” And it occurred to her that her back was up against a rock again, and he was so close, but this time she wouldn’t mind crawling up his big body on her way to his mouth. If sex got into her head now, though, she’d lose every other thought. “
Who
isn’t the point. It’s that the dragon is part of you. But taken as a whole, was that you? What you did to me in Hell—is that who you are?”

His gaze darkened. “No.”

“And I knew it wasn’t.” When he’d hurt her, she’d told herself that the dragon was truly him. But it hadn’t been. “Because you care, and in Hell you said that you didn’t. But you’d been in my head for a year and I
knew
you did. I’d felt it from you so many times. And it was something that stuck out to me, because I didn’t expect it. You’re supposed to be all disdainful of humanity.”

“I am?” His laughter returned, that deep, harmonic rumble. “Where is that written?”

“Everywhere. You’re really old. You’re supposed to be bitter and cynical and see humans as vermin. You’re supposed to think we’re weak. But you don’t. You know we
can
be weak. But you don’t assume we are.” After eight thousand years, Taylor wouldn’t have blamed him if he did.

His smile faded. “So I’m not what you expected. Does that disappoint you?”

No. It filled her with anxiety. Because if he hadn’t cared about people, her heart would never have been in danger. She couldn’t fall for someone who didn’t. And she’d expected that Michael would have made her feel small, insignificant. Even when she’d thought of him as inherently good, that was what she’d expected. But he made her feel bigger instead. Like she mattered. Not just to her family and friends. Even to someone like him.

And as wonderful as that felt, it was terrifying, too. His caring made her more vulnerable than she’d ever wanted to be.

Throat tight, she shook her head. “You’re not a disappointment.”

“I’m glad.” But his smile didn’t return. “I had an opportunity to slay Anaria today. I couldn’t do it.”

And
that
was a complete one-eighty.

Frowning, Taylor studied him. Without meeting her eyes, his gaze slowly slipped over her face, followed by the backs of his fingers brushing against her cheek. This wasn’t sexual, either—and she must be getting better at reading his expressions. First, melancholy. Now, troubled. It was all there in the firm set of his mouth, his long inhalation, the way he looked at her and yet focused far away.

Maybe it wasn’t a total change of subject. She caught his hand, felt the hard strength of his fingers. “Talking about disappointment made you think of that?”

“Yes. I should slay her, yet I stay my sword.”

Did he worry that
she
would be disappointed? “I’m glad you didn’t. Wasn’t she the one who told you how the spider silk worked? Without her, we might not have found Colin and Savi.”

“Today, yes. But I couldn’t bear to do it tomorrow, either. Despite all that she has done.”

Slaughtering a human army. More recently, stealing Colin’s blood, while leading the nephilim in an attack on the Guardians that had left three of their friends dead, and allowing her children to kill thousands of vampires around the world.

Anaria was dangerous, no question. But she wasn’t an immediate threat to the people Michael was sworn to protect. Not while she was still in Hell. “What would you do if she had her sword at Irena’s neck?”

“Slay her.”

There had been no hesitation in his answer. Taylor knew he wouldn’t hesitate in action, either. “I don’t think you have anything to be sorry for if you can’t kill her in cold blood.”

And she hoped that he was never forced to. Anaria wasn’t a demon, and making judgments or deciding proper punishments for Guardians and vampires was difficult enough. To execute a sister? She couldn’t imagine.

But at least Michael no longer appeared troubled. Just thoughtful as he looked at her.

His gaze dropped to her mouth.

Her body tensed. Anticipation pushed her closer. And . . . nothing. Though his heart began pounding, he didn’t kiss her.

If he didn’t have a good reason, she was going to jump him. “Are there any demons around?”

“No.” His voice had roughened. “But after I taste you, I won’t want to stop.”

She wouldn’t, either. But that
was
good reason. They had a quest. The kissing needed to wait until after they completed it.

“So we climb,” she said. “We find the blood. Then we go find Katherine.”

Michael nodded, but didn’t make a move toward the cliff. When his gaze fell to her lips again, everything inside her tightened.

Not all of it needed to wait. His head lowered. Gentle fingers beneath her chin tipped her face up. With his lips closed, as if not daring to taste, his warm mouth swept her cheekbone. Her jaw. Oh, God. Even this was amazing. Her head fell back, exposing her throat to the heat of his next kiss. Just a soft touch of his lips, but each sweet caress was a lick of fire over her senses, her desire a quick, leaping flame.

Screw climbing. Taylor wrapped her arms around his neck. “New plan. You fly. I hold on. Let’s get this done.”

She felt his smile against her throat before he raised his head. He stopped halfway up, his gaze arrested on her face. With curled fingers, he pushed the hair falling across her forehead behind her ear. Blue light glinted on the edge of his armor—her eyes were shining, she realized.

Heat climbed into her cheeks. She wanted him. No secret there. But with her eyes glowing like this, she might as well have been walking around with her nipples poking through her shirt.

But there was nothing to do but soldier through. “So. Any tips about how to dim the headlights?”

“No. You’ll eventually learn to make them shine at will, but there are times it cannot be controlled.” As he spoke, his eyes became obsidian, then amber again. His fingertips skimmed down her neck, making her shiver. “I don’t control the yellow glow. I only sometimes control the black.”

“So you do it on purpose. Just to scare people?”

“Sometimes. But usually so that an enemy doesn’t know where I plan to strike.”

The better to aid in an attack. Of course.

“I can tell what you’re looking at,” she said, just realizing it—then realizing how odd that was. His eyes could become pure black. No whites, no irises to indicate direction of gaze or focus. That used to drive her crazy. “I couldn’t always. But since I’ve woken up, I can.”

That seemed to please him. His smile softened. “I looked through your eyes for more than a year. Perhaps you learned how I see.”

Maybe. Or maybe a part of him was still in her head, somewhere.

That thought didn’t bother her as much as it once had. “But for now, I just leave mine on bright until it goes away?”

His nod seemed distracted. His hands smoothed over her shoulders, down her sides. Drawing her closer to him, as if preparing to fly—but he didn’t spread his wings. His gaze never left her face when his hands swept up her sides again . . . as if watching the glow to measure her response to his touch.

She shut her eyes. His hands stopped moving. Taylor unlinked her left arm from behind his neck and flipped him off. When she looked again, he was laughing down at her.

And her eyes were still glowing, reflecting in his steel armor. “Did they get brighter?”

“Not enough. When you come, they flare white.”

Her lips parted. There was only one time he’d have seen that. “On the beach?”

“Your flavor is intoxicating, Andromeda. And you were so wet. I couldn’t stop licking you.” The harmony of his voice deepened. “I’ll soon make your eyes burn that hot again.”

He’d make her entire body burn. He wouldn’t even need to touch her. Just remind her of the beach, his mouth, his tongue . . .
Oh, God.
With a whimper, Taylor clenched her thighs together, trying to ease the sudden ache.

Pale light glared against his armor.

“Like that,” Michael said softly. His hands dropped to her waist, hauled her up against his broad chest, high enough that her face was on level with his. “Now hold on to me again.”

Hold on? This was going to kill her. Arousal had left her wet, sensitive. Careful to keep a bit of space between her sex and his abdomen, Taylor wrapped her legs around him, her inner thighs tight against his armored sides. He vanished the cuirass, and then there was just warm muscle, almost as hard as the steel had been.

His wings unfurled, a quiet rustle of feathers. Though she’d seen him take to the air like a launched rocket, he wasn’t hurrying now. The first downsweep of his wings sent a cloud of dust billowing down the rocky incline. The tips of her own wings brushed the cliff face as they ascended, the feathers dragging over small depressions and outcroppings in the stone.

And being so close was torture, but it was bliss, too. Trusting her legs to support her, she unwound her arms from his neck and smoothed her palms across his shoulders, down his arms, her fingers lingering over the ridges of muscle, admiring the sheer strength on display. It was shallow, she knew. So shallow. He could shape-shift into any other body and be just as strong. Maybe she’d enjoy it just as much. She couldn’t say. Taylor only knew that she loved touching this form, the ropes of muscle, the gladiator’s chest.

But she loved the way he stiffened beneath her touch even more.

A glance up at his face, and she couldn’t stop her smile. “Your eyes are glowing, Michael.”

Amber. The color he couldn’t control.

His only response was the narrowing of his eyes, the tightening of his jaw. Not anger. A threat. Warning her that she’d see payback. Good. She’d dish out more reasons for him to retaliate.

Her gaze dropped to the tendon alongside his neck, straining with tension. He didn’t dare taste her, but she could taste him. She bent her head to his throat, inhaled. No odor that was Michael’s. Just dust and blood, a sensory record of where he’d been, the demons he’d fought, the friends he’d saved—and she liked it far better than any cologne.

She opened her mouth over his skin and licked.

Her folded wings hit stone with a heavy
whump.
Her back slammed into a cushion of feathers and the thick band of Michael’s arm.
Stunned, Taylor jerked her head up.

What the hell had happened? Not attacked. Michael didn’t have his sword out. He was gripping the cliff face, strong fingers wedged into a tiny depression. Just hanging there by one hand, dangling a hundred and fifty feet above the ground with Taylor clinging to him and his left arm wrapped around her waist. Her mind swirling in confusion, she looked past his shoulders. For an instant, his wings seemed as rigid as the rest of his body, but he began moving them again in small, steadying sweeps.

Her gaze returned to his face. Eyes no longer glowing, but obsidian. Slightly unfocused, they were quickly sharpening—as if he’d been dazed.

“What happened, Michael?”

“I don’t know.” His melodic voice was thick, rough. Aroused. “I felt your tongue.”

“And you fell out of the sky?”

Then caught himself against the face of the cliff, using a depression no deeper than a dimple. Some part of him had amazing survival instincts—and protective instincts. His arm hadn’t been wrapped around her a few seconds before.

“It seems so.” He frowned, his eyes clearing to amber. The warm, searching touch of his healing Gift slipped across her skin. “Were you hurt?”

“Just the breath knocked out of me.”

Because she’d made him
fall out of the sky
. Taylor didn’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry. A slow, smiling curve was replacing his frown, however, so a grin seemed appropriate.

But an apology did, too. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize that would happen.”

An abrupt shake of his head rejected that apology. “Take anything you want from me, whether a small taste or more. I am yours.”

As he’d said before. But as thrilling as those words were, Taylor couldn’t afford to be mistaken. “And what does that mean, Michael?”

He didn’t immediately answer. The sweep of his wings lifted them away from the cliff face, but they didn’t ascend. He hovered, instead, his gaze holding hers.

Taylor waited. This silence didn’t feel like a hesitation or an evasion. In her experience, lies were always the quickest responses. Truth was often more difficult, and it had to be handled more carefully.

And since her heart was on the line, she was glad that he took care with this.

Finally, he spoke. “I want to say that you are mine, Andromeda.
You are mine
,” he repeated, his voice suddenly dark and fierce, as if the first time hadn’t been enough. His eyes glowed amber. A shiver raced over Taylor’s skin, and she realized the reason for his delay. He’d been worried that the truth would frighten her. “I want to have all of you. I want to
take
all of you.”

Involuntarily, her thighs clenched around him. “And fill me with your seed.”

Oh, but that didn’t come out like she’d intended. Not a joke to ease the tension. Just breathless, because she could imagine his cock driving deep, could imagine him coming inside her.

And she wanted both. So much.

“Yes,” he said bluntly. “Because it would mark my claim. That is a need within me. To possess you, and to please you so well that you would never want another.”

Never want another.
Taylor didn’t know if she would. And a single word gave her more hope:
never
. In its way,
never
was the same as
forever
. They both lasted as long.

“So why do you say ‘I am yours,’ instead?”

Now a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “If I said ‘You are mine,’ how much time would pass before you told me to fuck off?”

She laughed. God, he knew her so well. That would have been her knee-jerk response to anyone who claimed to own her. “About half a second.”

Then she’d wallow in knowing that he wanted her so fiercely. She felt like wallowing now. She wanted to soak up his hardness and his warmth and his need for her.