He had his hands raised, empty, palms out. “I need you to calm some more.”
Did he? she thought dryly. Maybe she would if she could draw enough air through her nose or mouth, but she still couldn’t manage it. Dizziness was creeping up on her, black once again sneaking into her line of vision.
“What can I do to help you, Gwen?” There was a shuffle of footsteps as he closed the rest of the distance between them. His heat seeped into her.
“Air,” she was finally able to force past the knot in her throat.
Sabin’s hands settled atop her shoulders, gently pushing. Her legs were too weak to offer any type of resistance, so she tumbled down—straight into one of those chairs. “I need air.”
With no hesitation, Sabin dropped to his knees. He inserted his big body between her legs and cupped her face, forcing her to focus on him. Intense brown eyes became the new center of her world, an anchor in a turbulent storm.
“Take mine.” His callused thumb caressed her cheek, abrading lightly. “Yes?”
Take his…what? she wondered, and then she didn’t care. Her chest! Constricting, pinching bone and muscle together. A sharp pain tore through her ribs and slammed into her heart, causing the organ to skitter to a momentary halt. Gwen jerked.
“You’re turning blue, darling. I’m going to place my mouth over yours, give you my breath. All right?”
What if this is a trick? What if—
Shut up! Even in her haze, she knew the eerie, ghostly whisper was not her own. Thankfully, it heeded her command and quieted. Now, if only her lungs would open up. “I—I—”
“Need me. Let me do this.” If he feared her response, he gave no indication. One of his hands trailed to the base of her neck and drew her forward, even as he leaned into her. Their lips pressed together, a heated tangle. His hot tongue pried her teeth apart, and then warm, minty air was sliding down her throat, soothing.
Her arms wound around him of their own accord, holding him captive, meshing them together chest to chest, hardness to softness. His necklace was cold, even through her shirt, and made her gasp. She greedily took his breath. “More.”
He didn’t hesitate. He blew inside her mouth, and another warm, calming breeze moved through her. Little by little the dizziness faded; her head cleared, darkness once more giving way to light. The frantic dance of her heart slowed to a gentle waltz.
A need to kiss him, truly kiss him and learn his taste, filled her. His origins, forgotten. His past, of no consequence. Their audience, vanished as if they’d never been present. Only the two of them existed. Only the here and now mattered. He’d calmed her, saved her, gentled her, and now, here in his arms, real life slipping away, the fantasy she’d had of him, of them, played through her mind. Bodies wrapped around each other, straining. Skin slick with sweat. Hands roaming. Mouths seeking.
She threaded her fingers through the silkiness of his hair and tentatively brushed her tongue against his. Lemon. He tasted of sweet lemons and a hint of cherry. A moan escaped her, reality so much more decadent than she could have dreamed. So heady…so…heavenly. Pure and good and everything a girl could want from a lover. So she tilted her head and did it again, sinking deeper, silently demanding more.
“Sabin,” she breathed, wanting to praise him. Maybe thank him. No one had ever made her feel so protected, cherished, safe, needy, so needy. Not with something as simple as a kiss. A kiss that left no room for fear. Perhaps she could let go, even be herself, and not worry about her dark side…about hurting him. “Give me more.”
Instead of obeying, he jerked his head away and tugged her arms from him until there was no longer any physical link between them. “Touch me again!” she wanted to shout. Her body needed him, needed contact.
“Sabin,” she repeated, studying him. He was panting, trembling, his face pale—but not from passion. Fire didn’t dance in his eyes, determination did.
He hadn’t kissed her back, she realized. Her own desire-haze faded, just as the dizziness had done a bit ago, leaving the harsh realities she’d foolishly forgotten. Voices clamored around her.
“—didn’t see that one coming.”
“Should have.”
“Not the kiss, idiot. The calming. Her eyes had turned, and her claws had emerged. She was poised to strike. I mean, hello. Am I the only one who remembers what happened to the Hunter who tangled with her?”
“Maybe Sabin’s a portal to heaven like Danika,” someone said dryly. “Maybe the Harpy saw a few angels while receiving mouth-to-mouth.”
Male chuckles abounded.
Gwen’s cheeks heated. Half of what they’d said escaped her understanding. The other half mortified her. She’d kissed a man, a demon, who clearly wanted nothing to do with her—and she’d done it in front of witnesses.
“Ignore them,” Sabin said, his voice so guttural it scraped against her eardrums. “Focus on me.”
Their gazes clashed together, brown against gold. She scooted as far back in her chair as she could, putting as much distance between them as possible.
“Are you still afraid of me?” he asked, head tilting to the side.
She raised her chin. “No.” Yes. She was afraid of what he made her feel, afraid that what he was would again cease to matter. Afraid he’d never crave her the way she suddenly craved him. Afraid that the wonderfully protective man in front of her was nothing more than a mirage, that evil waited just below the surface, ready to devour her whole.
Such a coward you are. How the hell could she have kissed him like that?
One of his brows arched. “You wouldn’t be lying, would you?”
“I never lie, remember?” Ironically, that was a lie.
“Good. Now listen closely, because I don’t want to have this discussion again. I have a demon inside my body, yes.” He gripped her armrests so tightly his knuckles slowly blanched. “It’s there because centuries ago I stupidly helped open Pandora’s box, unleashing the spirits inside. As punishment, the gods cursed me and all the warriors you see on this plane to carry one inside ourselves. In the beginning, I couldn’t control that demon and did some…bad things, as you said. But that was thousands of years ago, and I now have control. We all do. Like I told you in that cell, you have nothing to fear from us. Got me, red?”
Red. Earlier, during her panic attack, he’d called her something else. Something like…sweetheart? No. Tyson used to call her sweetheart. Dearest? No. But close. Darling? Yes! Yes, that was it. She blinked in surprise. In delight. This hard warrior who could cut a man’s throat without hesitation had referred to her as precious treasure.
So why hadn’t he kissed her back?
“We’ve reached our destination, guys,” an unfamiliar voice dripping with relief said over the intercom. The pilot, she figured, and experienced a wave of guilt for the trouble she had caused. “Prepare for descent.”
Sabin remained in place, an indomitable rock between her legs. “Do you believe me, Gwen? Will you still
