Page 41 of Edge of Darkness (Night Prowler 4)
It was an abomination she should be alive after what had happened, after all the carnage she’d left in her wake.
The one thing that stopped her, over and over again, was the belief that to go on living was a far greater punishment than death, which would have relieved the relentless guilt eating away at her so
ul like acid. Life had become an opus of pain, silent and unacknowledged by anyone but her, pain that was lessened a little bit every time she’d thought of Christian. It lessened even more as she stood trembling and stripped emotionally bare in his arms.
No one had held her in years.
How alive do you want to be?
After all this time—especially after meeting Dante’s granddaughter Clare, so brave, so unafraid of anything—Ember realized she very much wanted to be alive, even if she didn’t deserve to be. She wanted to feel something other than guilt and pain, even if only for a moment.
Into Christian’s shirt, she whispered, “Christian?”
“Hmmm?” He stroked a hand over her hair.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
She tipped her head back and looked up at him. In a raw, shaking voice she said, “Will you please kiss me?”
Even in the dark alleyway she saw it, the way his eyes flared, the way his expression changed from soft to ardent, faster than she could blink. Tender, Gentle Christian was gone, replaced in an instant with Hungry, Dangerous Christian, the Bedroom Eyes Assassin she’d first seen when he walked into the bookstore, and into her life.
She thought he would devour her, so rapacious was that look, but he merely took her face in his hands, pressed his body against hers and pressed them both back against the wall.
She leaned into him, her heart pummeling her breastbone, her blood racing like wildfire through her veins. He slowly lowered his face to hers, his lips parted, his lids lowered halfway, eyes shining with heat.
When his mouth touched hers she gasped a little, shocked by the current of static that passed over her lips, stunned by how soft, warm, and gently demanding his tongue was, gliding against hers. She arched against him, pulling his head down with both hands around the back of his neck, and he made a sound deep in his throat, a quiet groan of need or pleasure.
It was incredible, his heat, and strength, and maleness, the way he took his time exploring her mouth while every nerve and cell in her body was screaming for him. For more. His body was pressed so close against hers she couldn’t help but notice the new straining hardness that sprang up between his legs as they kissed; it twitched against her belly when she twisted her fingers into his hair and rubbed her breasts against his chest, suddenly more desperately hungry than she’d ever been in her life.
He dropped a hand from her face and cupped it around her bottom, squeezing and pulling her harder against him. A little animal mewl escaped her, and she squirmed against him, greedy, quickly losing all sense of restraint. And oh, God, the way he tasted—it was addictive. Like sunshine, clean air, and cool water, there was an earthy, elemental taste to his mouth that was at once savory and sweet and completely delicious, and she felt as if she’d been drugged. As if someone had injected a mind-numbing chemical straight into her veins that set her body aflame and squelched the little voice of reason in her head that should have been screaming Slow down!
She didn’t want to slow down. She wanted to drown in him. She wanted to forget the past and all her terrible memories. With his lips on hers and his body against hers and his delicious taste on her tongue, she was forgetting. If he asked her at this moment if he could take her against the brick wall, she would have said an unequivocal yes.
Beneath her expensive, elaborate panties, she was soaking wet.
The kiss went on and on, deep, electric, and fevered, until Christian pulled back and panted a quietly strained, “Fuck.”
Ember moaned at the loss of his mouth. She felt hot, so hot and strangely uninhibited she had a wild notion to tear off all her clothes. She didn’t know what was happening to her, and honestly, she didn’t care.
“Don’t stop, Christian. Please don’t stop,” she whispered, her own breathing as irregular as his. Her hands on the back of his neck trembled.
“You want more of me?” he whispered back, his fingers tightening in her hair.
“Yes. Please. More.” It came out in three separate panted breaths as she strained against him, rising up on her toes when he wouldn’t lean in far enough for their lips to touch again.
“How much more, September? Tell me exactly how much you want.”
He held her back with that hand in her hair, still holding her tight against him with the other hand around her bottom, his gaze fierce on her face, almost ferocious. She shivered, alight with desire and a dark, burning need.
“I want all of you,” she whispered, staring straight into his eyes. His lids closed for a moment, he inhaled a ragged breath, then he opened his eyes and lowered his head to hers.
Just as his mouth was about to touch hers, he stiffened and let out a sharp, preternatural hiss. A deep, low, animalistic growl rumbled through his chest and lifted all the hair on the back of her neck and arms. He turned his head and stared down the alley.
Shocked out of her haze of lust by the unnatural sound, Ember followed his gaze.
Three men stood at the far end of the alley. Their bodies were facing away but their heads were turned in Ember and Christian’s direction, frozen mid-step as if they’d been walking past on the street beyond and had been arrested by the sight or sound of something. All three of them were tall and dark-haired, vaguely familiar looking, handsome in a predatory sort of way, all eyes and appetite. Pedestrians flowed by on the sidewalk unheeded, as the men stared down the alley with expressions ranging from hostile to flat-out murderous.
