Page 13 of Devil's Night

His tongue flicked out, tasting the hammering pulse at the hollow of my throat. “The question is…do you want me to?”

“Yes,” I breathed, my voice trembling with need. “I want you, Sargon.”

Some primal part of me had been unleashed by his passion, his raw, predatory power. I craved it, yearned for the exquisite danger he promised with every scorching caress.

Sargon’s eyes flared, twin pools of molten crimson blazing with scarcely leashed hunger. A feral rumble emerged from the depths of his chest as he seized my hips, slamming me back against the counter with bruising force.

“You think you can handle it, little human?” he purred, his words filled with dark promise. “You have no idea the pleasures I can make you endure.”

He crashed against me in a searing, merciless kiss that stole what little breath I had left. I moaned into his mouth, my nails scoring lines of fire down the corded muscles of his back, desperate for more of his touch, his taste, his scent.

Sargon growled in approval, the sound vibrating through me in a shudder of pleasure. One of his hands tangled in my hair, wrenching my head back to expose the vulnerable column of my throat. His wicked tongue blazed a scorching trail along the hammering pulse point as his hips rolled against me in a slow, sinuous grind.

“So responsive,” he rumbled against my fevered skin. “So achingly eager for my touch. I can smell the need pouring off you in waves, thick and intoxicating “

His words painted vivid images in my mind – images of him burying his face between my thighs, lapping at the slick evidence of my desire with that wicked tongue. I whimpered, my hips bucking shamelessly against the thick, insistent ridge of his arousal straining against the fabric of his trousers.

“Look around you,” he growled in my ear, his voice a low, guttural rasp of sin. “This place is a filthy, squalid hole, utterly unfit for one such as you.”

My gaze swept across the kitchen, taking in the cracked tiles and peeling paint, the rusted appliances and shattered plates littering the floor. He was right – the place was a wreck, a far cry from the cozy, immaculate homes I was used to. But instead of repulsing me, the squalor only heightened the dark, forbidden thrill.

“I don’t care,” I gasped, arching back against him with wanton abandon. “I know I’m crazy, but I just don’t care.”

Sargon tsked softly, his free hand smoothing my hair. “But I do. Besides, I do not think you would want to come undone so close to the rats.”

His words were like a bucket of cold water dumped over my head.

Good grief.

He really was a devil.

SARGON

The flickering gaslight cast an eerie glow over the dusty sitting room, illuminating faded wallpaper and antique furnishings. My gaze swept over the space, taking in every nook and cranny with careful scrutiny. Nicole stood beside me, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. I could smell the faint trace of her sweat, mixed with the tang of old books and must.

Despite my efforts to remain focused on our goal, my mind kept drifting back to the taste of her lips, the feel of her curves pressed against me. I clenched my jaw, pushing the distracting thoughts away. Getting her out of this wretched place was my priority.

“Where should we look first?” Nicole’s voice was hushed, as if afraid to disturb the stillness. Or maybe she was having just as much trouble as I was staying focused on our goal.

I grunted, eyes narrowing as I scanned the room. An ornate escritoire stood in the corner, its polished wood surface gleaming. “That might be a good place to start.”

She nodded, moving towards the antique desk with a purposeful stride. I trailed behind her, my senses heightenedand alert for any shifts in our surroundings. This labyrinth had a way of changing without warning.

Nicole began rifling through the drawers, careful not to disturb their contents too much. The scent of old parchment wafted up, tickling my nostrils. I leaned against the desk, arms folded as I watched her work.

“Find anything?” I asked after a few moments, unable to ignore the adorable way her nose crinkled as she concentrated. She shook her head, strands of hair escaping her ponytail to frame her face. The urge to brush them back, to feel their silk against my fingers, was almost overwhelming.

“Nothing yet,” she murmured, biting her lower lip. “But I’m not giving up.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Her tenacity was one of the things I found so intriguing about her. For a human, she was remarkably resilient and determined.

Nicole straightened, stretching her arms above her head with a soft groan. My gaze was drawn to the sliver of exposed skin at her midriff, the dip of her waist. Heat rose inside me, and I had to look away before my thoughts wandered down a dangerous path again.

“You know,” she began, dropping her arms to her sides. “You never did tell me what you plan to do once we get out of here.”

I arched a brow ridge, considering her question. “Drag Doar back and claim the bounty on his head.” A feral grin spread across my features at the thought. “Or better yet, just bring his severed head back as proof.”

A startled laugh escaped her lips, the sound rich and melodic. It lifted my spirits in a way I hadn’t expected, like the first rays of sunlight after a long, cold night. Her amusement was infectious, and I found myself chuckling along with her, the tension easing from my shoulders.

---