Page 12 of Devil's Night

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” he rumbled. “We are predators, hunters born and bred for the kill.”

He reached out, tracing the curve of my cheek with one calloused fingertip. “You would do well to remember that, little human.”

I tried to steady my breathing, to ignore the way my pulse quickened at his touch. “Is that a threat?”

The ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of Sargon’s lips, revealing a glimpse of those wicked fangs. “Perhaps. Or merely a warning.”

Our gazes locked, charged with an electric tension that crackled like static electricity. For a long, breathless moment, neither of us moved, the air thick and heavy with unspoken challenge.

Finally, Sargon broke the silence with a low chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. “You intrigue me, Nicole Carter. Few would dare defy me as you have.”

He leaned in closer, his lips nearly touching mine. I could taste the danger rolling off him in waves, sharp and intoxicating.

“But make no mistake,” he murmured, his words a velvet threat. “I am not one to be trifled with.”

I leaned closer. “I’m not trifling with you, Sargon.”

My voice was only a whisper, but it carried a weight, a challenge. Throwing caution to the wind, I pressed my lips against his.

For a heartbeat, he went rigid, his body tensing like a coiled spring. Then Sargon seized me, his powerful arms encircling my waist and crushing me against him.

He moved over me with a hunger that stole my breath away. There was nothing gentle about his kiss – it was all heat and need, a demand more than a request. His sharp teeth grazed my bottom lip, sending a jolt of electric desire coursing through me.

One of Sargon’s hands slid up my back, tangling in my hair and angling my head to deepen the kiss. The other roamed lower, his calloused fingers tracing the softness of my hip before gripping my thigh and hitching my leg up against his waist.

A strangled whimper escaped my lips as his hard length pressed against my core through the thin fabric of my pants. Instinctively, I rocked against him, craving that delicious friction.

Sargon snarled into my mouth, the sound rumbling like a feral beast unbound. His hips surged forward, pinning me against the cool metal of the kitchen counter. There was no mistaking the thick, heavy length of him straining against his trousers, insistent and demanding.

I should have been afraid. By all rights, I should have been terrified by the strength of his desire, by the raw power he exuded. But instead, I found myself drowning in it, craving it. Craving him.

My fingers tangled in the whorls of his intricate markings as I clung to him, drunk on the heady blend of his musk and the tang of his alien blood. The sharp ridges of his horns grazed my cheek, sending a trill of forbidden pleasure ricocheting down my skin.

Sargon’s lips left a blazing trail of heat along my jawline, his sharp teeth scoring lines of fire across the sensitive skin of my throat. A low, possessive growl vibrated against my pulse point, and I groaned, arching against him shamelessly.

“So responsive,” he purred, his voice laced with smoldering desire. “Do you have any idea what you do to me, little human?”

His hips ground against me in emphasis, the thick ridge of his cock leaving me aching and breathless. I whimpered, digging my nails into his shoulders as I sought an anchor against the scorching tide of need crashing over me.

“I want you,” Sargon rumbled, the words a raw, carnal confession that sent a fresh gush of liquid heat pooling between my thighs. “More than anything in this blasted existence.”

His tongue traced the delicate shell of my ear, his breath hot and ragged. “I crave the taste of you, the scent of your arousal thick on my tongue as I bury myself in your slick, velvet depths “

A strangled moan tore from my lips at the vivid imagery his words conjured. Need coiled low in my belly, an aching, throbbing pulse that begged for release. I shifted restlessly, silently pleading for him to put an end to this exquisite torment.

Sargon chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through me like the rumble of distant thunder. “Patience, little one. The Vinduthi do not rush such…intimate affairs.”

His lips found mine once more, the kiss deep and demanding as he plundered the velvet depths of my mouth with his wicked tongue. I could taste the tang of his blood, the spicy musk that clung to his skin.

When he finally broke away, I was left dizzy and breathless, clinging to him like a lifeline in a storm. My lips were swollen from the brutal onslaught of his kisses, my skin flushed and tingling with the echoes of his touch.

“Look at you,” Sargon murmured, dragging the pad of his thumb over my plump bottom lip. “So flushed and needy, aching for my touch.”

A wicked grin curved his lips. “And to think, you dared to defy a Vinduthi hunter, little human.”

His fingers slid into my hair, gripping the silken strands as he tugged my head back, baring the slender column of my throat. I shuddered, pinned by the molten heat of his gaze.

“Perhaps you’re not as fragile as you appear,” he mused, trailing scorching kisses along the sensitive skin below my ear. “But make no mistake – I could break you with a single, careless touch.”

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