Games Demons Play (Mystic Isle, Book 3) (7 page)

How odd… Thrice he’d held her like this, and
every time it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like
she was meant to be right where she was. A piece of the puzzle of
his life.

“She’s not eating enough,” he murmured to
Latham and stepped onto the elevator. “Would you send up one of
those cocktails you’re so famous for?”

The god nodded. “Of course.”

Latham turned away as the doors closed. Then
they started the climb into the sky.

What was it about her that made every
protective instinct inside him fire on all cylinders? Before Anya,
he’d never felt the urge to protect anyone. And since, he’d never
let himself get that close.

But today he’d sat at the bar, watching her
play cards and shy away from the advances of a werewolf. Those
hours had been the longest of his life. Wanting to go to her, pull
her into his arms, and steal a kiss.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped out,
making a left. Across the living room, floor to ceiling windows let
in the pale blue light of dusk. He toed open the second bedroom
door. Once he’d deposited her in the center of the massive bed, he
hit the switch on a nearby lamp, casting the room in a honey
glow.

Unable to resist, he sat on the edge of the
bed and studied her profile. Such a cute nose. And her lashes… long
and golden. Crossing his arms, he tried to figure out just what it
was about her, about this particular woman that had him out of
sorts.

He cocked his head and replayed every word
she’d said to him. Every glance they’d shared. Every touch.
It
was everything
. A gut instinct. Charm. Desire. An unusually
intense lust. The urge to wake her, just so he could hear her
voice. But right now, he actually needed to wake her. Not for his
own pleasure, but so she’d drink. According to his watch, her last
drink had been three hours ago.

Where was that cocktail Latham had
promised?

He didn’t have time to wait. She needed to
eat, and fast. He leaned over her and the scent of strawberries
filled his nose.

“Izzy.” He shook her shoulder. She didn’t
rouse. He called her name again.

His blood should have made her stronger. Not
that he was arrogant or anything.

He held two fingers against her neck. Her
pulse was still fine, though she was cold. But then, vamps usually
were. Something about not being able to make their own blood.

He’d never paid much attention. Right now, he
was regretting that lack of foresight. The woman in his guestroom
was very much a vampiress.

Beautiful. Delicate. Cool. Just like those
ice-blue eyes of hers. So unusual. He’d give just about anything to
have her looking up at him right now.

“Izzy.”

He had the overwhelming urge to kiss those
pink lips. Bracing a hand above her left shoulder, he leaned over,
breathing her in. Transfixed and unable to stop himself, he stared
at her lips. Lulled by her beauty, he ducked his head.

His blood heated before they even touched.
Without the dark eyeliner and blood-red lipstick, she was all the
more angelic. And youthful. She, with her pert little nose, blue
eyes that went from cold to hot in an instant, white-blonde hair,
and more integrity in her little finger than most people had in
their whole body, was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

Shade watched her as he brushed his lips
across hers. Cool. Soft. There was no movement from her. No change.
The golden crescents of her lashes remained locked. Her breathing
shallow.

He stole another kiss. Just a brush really.
Then he licked his lips to see what she tasted like. Strawberries
and Jack Daniels. A fitting description if ever there was one.
Sweet and kick-ass, all at the same time.

“Izzy, sweetheart. Wake up.”
Look at
me.

Izzy loved the feel of a man against her. On
top of her. Solid. Real. She loved it even more when he whispered
her name, unable to help himself.

But most of all, she loved the look in
Shade’s eyes as he kissed her. As if he could not bear to close
them for fear he would miss something important.

She should not trust him. He was a stranger,
but he did not feel like one. He did not look at her how a stranger
would. His lips were somehow familiar, as was the taste of his
blood. How had she thought she could not trust him? He took care of
her when he did not know her. Saved her life… more than once.

How sad was it that she needed saving.
Rescuing. But that need had brought her to him and for that, she
could never be sad.

His features started to blur and she hugged
him tighter, not wanting him to leave her just yet. He made her
feel safe and grounded; two things she had not felt since she was a
child. She did not want him to go. Did not want those feelings to
end. Could not bear for him to stop kissing her like she was…

Darn the dream. Why did they always have to
end?

“Come on, sweetheart,” he whispered.

Come where? When he talked to her like that
she would follow him anywhere.

A warm hand covered hers and she realized
that her fingers were balled into a fist. Her grip was so tight,
everything from her wrist down felt numb.

“You need to eat.”

She wanted to eat all right. He would be the
only course on her menu. Appetizer. Entree. Dessert.

He kissed her chin. “Izzy…” He was so close.
So… concerned. Why did he sound concerned? Why was he fading?

No. She squeezed her eyelids tighter, not
ready to let go yet. “Don’t go—”

A soft chuckle rumbled through her ears. She
felt the sound as much as she heard it. The gentle vibration ran
through her body, relaxing her.

“I’m not going anywhere,
engel
, now
open your eyes.”

Izzy did as he asked and found the handsome
demon staring down at her, his face only inches away. So the dream
was real. His kisses? His words?

She would have panicked had he been any other
man. Anyone but the man who had saved her after the car accident
and given her his own blood… twice. But as he stared down at her,
an almost tender look in his beautiful silver-gray eyes, she
trembled. Not from fear. But from desire. She had him to thank for
that. Him and that incredible voice. It soothed her like no other,
not even her mother’s.

“What are you doing here?” Where was here?
Her gaze flicked from the handsome demon to the ceiling overhead,
then the corners of the room. She was not in the casino
anymore.

“Right now, I’m trying to get you to eat. You
passed out on me.
Again.
” He sounded mildly annoyed, but as
she had come to expect from him in the short time she’d known him,
he was good-natured about it. “I take it you didn’t have a
nightmare this time.” He gave her a teasing smile.

He pushed himself into a sitting position,
trailing his hand down her left side. How was she supposed to form
a coherent thought when he looked at her like that? She was a
sucker for long hair. And horns. Two years ago she would have run
screaming into the night at the sight of him, so big and… not
menacing exactly. But intense. Almost devious, as if he had the
power to make a woman do anything he wished.

But tonight, tonight was different. She was
hopelessly attracted and she feared that her interest went deeper
than sex. She had never allowed herself to feel anything for any of
the men she slept with. Not since her boyfriend had left her in an
alley with a deranged werewolf.

A night or two in bed did not give her much
time to bond with a man. Such a short courtship left little time
for talking, especially when there were better things to do.

All of which made it easy to keep her heart
locked away.

“Eat,” he ordered.

Ordinarily, she did not like being ordered
around. She tolerated Valencia’s orders and lectures because she
owed her. She would always owe her. It was a “
from now until the
end of time”
kind of debt.

And normally she laughed when a man told her
what to do. Then she did things her way. Be it in life or in the
bedroom.

Shade tipped his head to the left, revealing
the strong, smooth column of his throat. He had such an incredible
tan. She missed the sun on her face. Valencia promised that one
day, Izzy would be able to step into the light again. She couldn’t
wait. Thanks to Ceara, Izzy had a bucket list six miles long and at
least half of the items involved sunlight. Warm summer picnics,
afternoons at the beach, hiking on a cool but clear autumn day.

She sat up on her elbows, admiring his strong
square jaw. Never before had she thought of a neck as sexy. But his
neck looked strong, corded with muscle and tendon. A steady
heartbeat. And a hint of cologne that drew her like a bee to a
flower. Best of all, he tasted so good.

In the back of her mind she knew there was
something important that she needed to remember. But the thought
was fuzzy. Elusive. Just out of her grasp. And he… he was real. And
strong. And solid. That much she did remember.

“Come on, Izzy. You need to eat, honey.”

How did he know that?

“You haven’t eaten in three hours,” he
supplied, reading her mind again.

She sat up, sliding her palms over his
biceps, into the shelter of his arms. With the top two buttons of
his shirt undone, the material gaping open, she had a clear view of
the solid wall of his chest.

Sitting so close to him, she felt a little
crowded by his big body, and was acutely aware of how strong he
was. Power rippled off him in waves. Tightly contained. Intense to
his core. If he wanted to, he could snap her in two. She was sure
of it. Those shoulders, so wide, broad, and thick with muscles. And
those arms. Those hands!

But he had never raised a finger in anger.
Nor aggression.

“I would never hurt you, Izzy.” His words
were soft, but echoed with honesty.

Whatever faults and vices the demon had, he
did not strike her as a violent man. Capable of producing great
physical pain, absolutely. But underneath all that muscle he seemed
almost stoic.

The elevator chimed, ruining the moment.

“Be right back,” he said, striding for the
door.

She sucked in a steadying breath and gazed
around at the elegantly tropical decor. So they were still on
Mystic Isle. That was a relief. Outside the gauze-covered windows
she could see the stars.

Shade sat down on the edge of the bed and
handed her a silver goblet. “House cocktail.”

Burgundy and blood. A perfect
combination.

She took a long sip and sighed. “It is good.”
She watched him over the top of the glass. His brows lifted as he
digested her words. “I know something that tastes even better.” She
leaned back and placed the goblet on the night table.

“Yeah?”

Her lips curved up. How she loved his deep,
soft voice. Come to think of it, she had never heard a sexier voice
in her twenty-two — make that twenty-four, years. Was that why he
soothed her so easily? The almost soft, barely gentle sound was
hypnotic.

Alluring.

“Yes.”

She slid a hand through the gap in his shirt
and smoothed her palm across the warm, taut skin.

“You are warm. So warm.”

He closed his eyes. She couldn’t stop looking
at his thick dark lashes. Men had all the luck. No period and
beautiful, natural lashes.

He smelled good too.

Closing those last few inches, she brushed
her lips over his skin, soaking in his heat. She kissed and nipped
her way up his chest. At the tender spot between neck and
collarbone, she licked his skin. His hand tightened around her
waist, kneading her flesh, urging her against him.

Slowly, carefully, she grazed his skin with
her teeth. He groaned.

“And you’re like ice.”

“Then you will have to heat me up. Yes?”

Tucking her hand beneath the collar of his
shirt, she ran the tip of her tongue up and down his jugular.

“Izzy…” he whispered. The ragged edge to his
voice gave him away as nothing else could.

She smiled against his throat. He was not as
stoic as she’d thought. After nuzzling his throat once more, she
sank her fangs into his flesh and was rewarded by a moan. Sweet,
hot blood dribbled over her tongue.

Just as delicious as last time. When had that
been exactly? Both a lifetime and just a moment ago, it seemed.

The arm he had braced against the bed curled
around her waist, holding her to him. His other palm curved around
the base of her skull. Moaning, she closed her eyes and created a
memory. His scent. His taste. His warmth. The feel of being wrapped
up in him… perfection. She could think of a lot worse people to be
trapped with. Tangled up in.

Just like the last time, his blood gave her
an immediate boost. She’d never experienced such an exquisite high.
The energy. The strength. She felt weightless, powerful. But
mostly, grateful.

He was right. He was taking care of her,
again, and it was becoming an addictive habit. Wrapping her arms
around his shoulders, she continued to feed. Slowly. Savoring each
sip.

It would not be so bad. Staying here with him
forever. Feeding from him. Soaking in his warmth. There were worse
habits. Worse men.

But she could not take too much. Valencia and
the others had emphasized that point more than any other. So she
licked the wounds closed and pulled back a fraction.

Why was she breathing so hard? Her lungs felt
like she had just power-walked around the entire hotel.

Slowly, he let her go, his hands falling
away. She immediately missed his touch. He straightened, half
turning away from her. Though he didn’t say a word she could tell
there was something on his mind.

Did he know about her dream? She licked her
lips and let her hands drop from his shoulders. Her left hand
paused on his biceps and her right hovered over his heart. His heat
warmed her fingertips and the steady
thump-thump-thump
brought a smile to her lips. If she was not mistaken, he’d enjoyed
her taking his blood.