And worst of all, the fallen god threw a blanket over me again. I ached for him, and the faint friction of the sheet was nothing but torture.
He lay next to me, his head slumped against my shoulder “A little at a time, love.”
Love.
With that word, his name dropped through the darkness in my mind like a falling star. “Orion.” The memory of the word filled me with a little light.
A faint smile curled his lips. His eyes were still that coal black, telling me that he wanted to fuck me.
Under the blanket, he traced his fingertips over the curve of my hips. “I didn’t want to leave you alone, Rowan. Even though you told me not to. I flew back, following you. And I saw the flash of light, and I’ve never felt more terrified.”
His hand traced down my thighs, making me shudder at the contact.
*
I dreamed carnal, fevered dreams…that we were in the Temple of Ishtar, the night after my initiation. I was sitting in his lap, and he toyed with me, touching me where I was wet. Hunger ripped through me, and my thighs opened wider, shamelessly demanding more. I didn’t care that everyone was watching as long as I could come…
I dreamed that he bent me over a desk and ran his finger down my spine. He slid his hand into my hair and forced my skirt up, my underwear down to my thighs. Gripping my hair, he took me hard and fast, filling me while I screamed his name.
When I woke, the restraints were gone, but he was still next to me. Darkness filled the room. I was clothed again, which was annoying, but I twined my body around his. He stirred in his sleep, moving his arms around me. I could feel his hard length through my nightgown. Turning toward him, I searched for his lips, and when I found them, I kissed him deeply.
He moaned into my mouth, hips moving against me. But he pulled away with an agonized sigh, his eyes dark with shadows. “Not yet, love.”
I needed more contact. More. “Orion.”
There was something important I needed to tell him, and it was just at the edge of my consciousness. Where my mind had been whirling with chaos before, clear images started to flit through my thoughts…
A silver-haired boy covered in snakes.
“You didn’t mention the snakes.” The words startled me, and I wasn’t yet sure what I was talking about. Then the memories began to flood me, flickering in my thoughts like an old film reel. “They covered you in snakes in the dungeon until you broke down. You didn’t tell me.”
He pulled away from me, staring at the ceiling. Another, worse memory burned in my thoughts—I’d made fun of him for his fear of snakes. I touched the side of his face and angled it toward me. Exhaustion shaded his sensual features, his eyes half-closed. He stroked his thumb over my cheek, and I felt myself lighting up from the inside out.
“Do you know what happened to the book?” he asked quietly. “The Lilu names?”
That’s what it was—the thing I needed to tell him. I closed my eyes, trying to remember the specifics. “He burned it, but they’re still there.”
“Still where?”
What was the word he’d used? “In the Puritan building.”
“The Puritan building,” he repeated, brushing his thumb over my skin.
The darkness inside me wanted him to lick me and kiss me, for us to be a tangle of limbs and tongues, but I knew this was important, so I tried to focus and picture the face of the demon hunter…the one I’d destroyed. Images burst in my mind like fireworks. His sneering, freckled face. A maroon sweatshirt with Greek letters. A silver hammer pin, a knife dripping with blood. Matricide. He’d been my tormentor for years, and tears ran down his cheeks, streaking through the dirt on his face— He’d carved words into my fallen god.
I inhaled sharply. “Digitized. That’s what he said. It’s in their files.”
A smile creased his face. “Nice work, love.” He traced his thumb over my lower lip.
With the important task completed, I felt I deserved a reward. And the way he was looking at me with that intense heat, that love—it was almost enough of a reward. But not quite.
My hunger for him would never be satiated. When I ran my hand down his hard, muscled body, the look in his eyes told me he was at war with himself, too.
I kissed him, taking his lower lip between mine. His fingers slid down, tightening on my ass. He pushed my hips against his length and groaned, a desperate sound that made my nipples tight. I needed my clothes off, our bodies sliding against each other.
I’d become a monster, turned the world into ashes around me. I’d made people burn. And I needed primal, animalistic sex to forget it all.