“Moved on? With Viola?” He grimaced. “Hell, no. We were just talking.”
“Yeah, I know. Your body language said plenty.” Before, she’d only seen his hard-on—and it had been pointed at the blonde. Now she felt it, hard and long and thick, and sweet heaven, she still wanted it. Still wanted him.
“Are you jealous?”
“Of course not!”
“You are. You’re jealous.” He laughed, awe and delight bubbling in the undertones. “Can I just tell you how much that turns me on?”
“Everything turns you on,” she snarled, struggling to dampen her anger. He was just so damned pleased with himself. And her! “And I’m not jealous.”
“You are, and I love it. Anyway, something’s going on with my demon, that’s all. I swear to you, I haven’t been with the goddess and I won’t be. Ever.”
“She’s a goddess?”
“Who holds no appeal for me.”
He could be lying. He could be telling the truth. Actually, he was telling the truth, she decided in an instant, not needing Wrath’s help. Paris wasn’t the type to lie. Consequences weren’t something he feared.
“It doesn’t matter.” Her shoulders sagged with defeat. “I shouldn’t have come back.”
“Doesn’t matter? Are you giving up on me? On us?” He gripped her forearms and shook her. “I know we said we’d part when you could leave the realm, but I want to revisit that decision. It’s no longer an option for me. And I know you’re going to have a difficult time believing this, but no matter how my body reacts to others, no matter what my demon wants, you are it for me. Do you understand?” Another shake, harder than before.
“Uh, Paris,” Strider called. “Who you talking to, buddy?”
He twisted, and she peeked around him. The warriors had stopped fighting each other, and everyone but the scarred one and the blonde goddess were eyeing Paris as if he’d just flipped his ever-loving lid.
“They can’t see me,” she said.
He was saved from having to reply to her or his friends when the door in the center of the hall swung open and the dark-haired William stepped into the hall. He was pale, clearly shaken to his soul and bathed in blood.
She gasped. “What happened to him?”
William clapped to gain everyone’s attention. “All right, listen up. I’ve got good news and bad news. Because I’m such a positive person, we’ll start with the good. Ashlyn survived the birthing, and so did her personal horde.”
The hallway echoed with breathy sighs of relief…none louder than Maddox’s own.
“So what’s the bad?” someone demanded.
After a dramatic pause, the warrior said, “I’m out of conditioner. I need someone to flash out of here and get me some. Hint, I’m looking at you, Lucien. And, yeah, you’re welcome for my amazing contrib to your happy family. Little terrors clawed me up but good.”
“William!” someone else snapped. “Stay on track, and keep the unnecessary details to a minimum. We’re dying here.”
“That’s gratitude for you. So anyway, come on, come in, and meet your nephew and niece, Murder and Mayhem. Or, if you want to call them by their nicknames, and I’m sure you will the moment they get their mitts on you, Pistol and Shank.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
AS HAPPY AS PARIS WAS with the births, as much as he wanted to meet the babies, he had to take care of his woman first. He tossed Sienna over his shoulder with the finesse of a bulldozer, shouted, “No one enter my bedroom, no matter what you hear,” and stalked to the room he’d used before, passing through the hall of statues. Each of his friends cast him weird looks before he rounded the corner. Mainly because they were all laid out flat and hadn’t recovered from Maddox kicking and shoving them out of his way, so they were dazed, but also because they assumed Paris had just spent a good five minutes talking to himself.
I want her still, Sex said with no small measure of surprise.
Don’t worry. We’ll get her.
Sienna had been stunned silent and remained still at first, but with his every step she worked herself into more of a lather. Soon she was slapping at his back, jerking at his hair and attempting to knee him in the face and balls. Up the stairs he went, down another hall, barely able to prevent his emasculation. He shouldered his way inside the chamber and slammed the door with a backward kick.
He’d been torpedoing his way into a black rage, but seeing Sienna had calmed him. Just like that. Zacharel could blow him, because clearly he would never hurt this woman.
She’d come back for him. That deserved a reward.
He set her on her feet, and she immediately launched herself into full-blown attack. To be honest, he was glad as hell. Anything was better than that moment of defeat. Her little fists pummeled at him, and he accepted the abuse. Until he realized she’d made an improper fist and was actually hurting herself. He wound an arm around her waist, spun her and slammed her into the hard line of his body to still her.
“Let me go!”
“In a minute.” As she struggled, he pulled her thumb out from beneath her fingers and rearranged her fist. “Hit like this.” Done, he released her.
She swung back around to beat at him some more, and this time the blows stung. “You aren’t walking out of this room until I’ve killed you!”
That’d be a nice little trick, and maybe something to try later. “I’ll let you do anything you want to me, but I’d like an explanation first. What’s this about?”
“Argh!” She leapt away from him, paced like a caged lion. Energy radiated from her, practically lifting her hair off her head. “It’s about the fact that all men suck! And in case you didn’t realize, you’re included in their numbers.”
“I would hope so. Otherwise our romance would be missing something.”
Her eyes glittered with jade fire, the gold lost. “Was that a crack about your penis? Because if so, you can do better.” She stalked to the dresser and shoved with all her might, knocking the thing to the ground. Wood splintered. The granite surface shattered. The drawers spilled from their holders. Scowling, panting, she grabbed one and lobbed it at him.
He ducked, and the empty container smacked into the door. Both fractured. Another quickly followed, and he barely managed to dodge it.
“Why are your friends here? Aren’t you afraid I’ll spy on them and learn their secrets?”
“No.” And he wasn’t. Not anymore. He’d judged her harshly before, but he wasn’t going to make that mistake again. “Just like you aren’t afraid I’ll sleep with anyone else while we’re together.”
Another drawer. “That’s what you told Susan!”
“I know, and I’ve lived with the guilt ever since. I will never do that to you. Tell me you know that.”
“Yes, I know that, but we weren’t together a few minutes ago. Which means you went after the first tail to twitch in your direction the second we were separated. But I’m not your girlfriend, and I will never be your girlfriend, so I can’t complain, can I?”
“No,” he said quietly. “You won’t ever be my girlfriend.” Because you’re already my wife. Those words. He’d never thought to use them in regard to himself. But now that he had, yeah, his possessive instincts flared, insisting on their due. Didn’t help that Sienna was the sexiest female he’d ever seen. A live wire, sizzling, crackling, the essence of passion. Yeah, he was hard as a steel pipe.
Another drawer was flung his way. Only four more were left. He’d let her have them, and then he was going in.
“I’m so sick of this world, the lying and the tricking and the killing.” One. “That woman is going to pay. Oh, she’s going to pay so bad.” Two. “I’m going to join in and do a little killing of my own. Not through Wrath, but with my own hands.” Three. “That bastard Cronus thinks he can manipulate me, but he can’t. I’m done with all of you!” Four. “And I’m not going to save you, so there! You can go to—”
Paris barreled forward, snagging her around the waist and tossing her on the bed. As she bounced on the mattress, her wings shot out to slow her momentum. He dove for her before she could catch herself and hover in the air, and for once he didn’t try to be careful. He pinned her, trapping her legs beneath the muscled weight of his own and her arms over her head. She tried to buck him off, but all she succeeded in doing was rubbing his hard-on against her clit.
A cry of need parted those pretty lips.
More!
“You wet for me, baby?” He didn’t ask for permission, but transferred the shackling of her wrists to one hand and shoved up her shirt and bra with the other, baring her breasts. Her nipples were red and swollen, begging for him.
“No,” she said, and he knew she lied. “Not wet, not wet, soooo not wet.” Yeah, she knew it, too.
He dipped down and sucked. She released another of those beautiful cries, her hips undulating against him. He kept sucking and she kept bucking against him, until he couldn’t stand the pressure anymore and shoved his hand down her pants, past those panties and straight into the heat of her. She practically bowed off the mattress.
Yes, please, yes.
One finger, two, three. He thrust them home, as deep as he could get them.
“Paris… I… Oh, yes, yes!”
“There’s my girl.” She drenched his hand, just the way he liked, so hot and silky, fitting him so damn perfectly, even this way. “When you used your mouth on me, I wanted to have my face buried between your legs. I still do. And next time, I will. I’m going to have all this honey down my throat.”
“Paris…I’m going to… I’m so close already.” Her eyes were squeezed shut, those long lashes fused together. “Let go of my hands. I want to touch you, too. Need to touch you.”