by Cynthia Eden
Strange to hear such bloodthirsty plans come from her lips. He had to remember, the lady was far deadlier than she appeared.
Even if she’d somehow lost the Death Touch.
“When did you know?” Her legs straddled him. Did she feel the swelling cock shoving against her? Probably. Tanner didn’t really see how she could miss that. Not like it was a small thing.
The blade dug a bit deeper into his skin. “I went after those bastard panther shifters, LaRue and Stokes,” Marna confessed. “I went after the jerks because I wanted to kill them.”
So she had been seeking some vengeance. Tanner tried to keep his body perfectly still beneath her. He had one hell of a view, and other than the stinging pain in his neck, being beneath her was pretty damn pleasurable.
Being in her, that would be even better.
A hungry growl slipped from him.
Marna frowned down at him.
Tanner cleared his throat. “What happened?”
Her tongue swiped over her lips. His cock jerked.
“I-I tracked them in the Quarter,” she said. “I followed them, for days. I waited, wanting the perfect moment.”
To strike.
Definitely a bloodthirsty angel. He’d have to remember that little tidbit about her. Marna sure wasn’t all sunshine and light, no matter how she appeared.
“I was going to walk right up to them. Look them straight in the eyes, and watch as their lives drained away.”
Cold. Vicious.
He would have done the exact same thing. He liked for his kills to be personal. Those getting payback, well, they needed to see just who was delivering the justice to them.
“They always went to the same place for drinks. I waited until the bar on Bourbon Street was almost empty, and then I went inside.”
Tanner heard the echo of pain in her voice. “What did they do to you?”
“Nothing.” A laugh, heavy with bitterness, slipped from her. “I marched up to Stokes. Put my hand on his chest and waited for him to look at me with fear in his eyes.”
Beau Stokes had always been a sadistic prick. So eager to attack weaker prey. So quick to slice with his claws and laugh when his prey begged for mercy.
“But he didn’t even know who I was,” Marna whispered. Did she realize she still held the knife to his throat? “He tried to kiss me. Tried to pull me closer to him, like I was another body to screw in that dark bar.”
Tanner didn’t speak.
“I wanted to kill him. I was trying to. LaRue was coming toward us, laughing, and I wanted them both to die.” Her head dipped forward, and the curtain of her hair hid her face.
Tanner lifted his hand and pushed back her hair. He could barely feel the sting of the knife now. “But they didn’t die.”
Her lashes slowly lifted. “Angels of death—those Fallen and those who still have their wings—all of them can kill with a touch. That’s our power. Our one, unbreakable gift. Death.”
Death was a gift?
“I ran from the shifters. They were laughing at me while I ran away.” Her breath rasped out. “When Brandt took my wings from me, he took away everything that I was. I have nothing now. Nothing.”
But fury. A rage so dark it had sent her after the panthers—ready to kill and destroy.
“Angels have magic. They can do so much—conjure, stir fire.” A bitter laugh came from her. “I can’t even make smoke.” She shook her head. “So what am I supposed to do now?” Marna asked him and then she blinked, seeming to finally realize that she still had a knife at his throat. Her hand lifted as she took the knife away from his jugular. “Just wait around for a vamp to drain me? Wait for a shifter to slice me and—”
It was his turn to have her flat on her back. Tanner crushed her into the mattress. He didn’t have to worry about a Death Touch now. She wasn’t going to lose control.
Maybe it was time he did.
“I know what you’re gonna do.” His mouth was so close to hers. Less than an inch away. So close he could already taste her.
“Wh-what?”
“Live.” It was time that his angel learned what life was really about. Not just pain and fear and rage.
Lust. Need.
Pleasure.
He kissed her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Marna wasn’t prepared for the lick of fire that seemed to ignite within her body when Tanner kissed her. Part of her knew that she should shove him away, but her hands weren’t listening to that part. Instead, her hands were wrapping around his broad shoulders and pulling him closer.
She’d never kissed a man . . . until him. Death angels didn’t kiss. They didn’t caress.
They only touched to kill.
For her kind, what was the point of touching? Angels didn’t yearn. They didn’t need. They didn’t lust.
At least, they didn’t until they fell. Then all of the human emotions and needs slammed into them.
Lust. She was sure lusting right then.
Tanner had been the first man to kiss her, and when she’d felt that initial touch of his lips against hers, she’d wanted more.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” he whispered against her mouth.
Fear was the last thing she felt right then. Her nipples were so tight they ached, and her body was rubbing against him because she felt so . . . restless.
Aching.
Needing.
“Kiss me back,” his rough order.
Her tongue moved against his. Her lips opened wider, and she tasted the shifter.
Her legs were parted, and she could feel the heavy press of his erection against her. Tanner wanted her. Maybe that should have scared her. It didn’t. It made her feel . . .
Powerful.
Sexy. She’d never felt sexy before. But Tanner wanted her, so she had to be sexy to him.
His hand flattened over her stomach. The ache between her legs grew sharper, and Marna lifted her hips up against him. His fingers—a little rough, so strong—rose and covered her bra.
She didn’t want him touching the bra. Marna wanted his hands on her breasts.
His mouth. What would it feel like if he licked her nipple? Sucked the aching flesh?
Her heart was racing, her body quivering, and she knew this was wrong. She should stop but . . .
Humans enjoyed sex so much. They lied, stole, even killed for their fleeting pleasure.
She’d never tasted pleasure. She knew too much about pain.
I want my taste.
Growing bolder, Marna sucked against his lower lip. Tanner growled. She liked it when he growled. The sound was wild, and that was just the way he made her feel.
Her nails dug into his shoulders.
Then his hand was sliding beneath her bra, and his fingers stroked her tight nipple. The first touch of his hand had her hissing out a breath.
Tanner stilled.
The drumming of Marna’s heartbeat echoed in her ears. Tanner lifted his head. She could see the power of his beast reflected in his eyes. His face was harder, sharper, and there was no missing his lust.
For me.
“I want . . .” Were those words really hers? That husky, hungry voice—hers? Yes. “I want your mouth on me.”
His pupils expanded. “Baby, all you had to do was ask.” Then his dark head lowered. His breath rasped over one eager breast and then she felt—
His tongue. Sliding over the nipple. Easing over the peak. Her heels dug into the mattress even as a ragged moan escaped from her.
A hot current seemed to streak from her breast to her sex. She was aching, empty, and her hips tilted up so she could better rub her sex against his cock.
The friction just intensified the ache. Pleasure waited, tempting her, just out of reach.
He sucked her nipple. Scored her flesh with his teeth.
The ache built. Her eyes squeezed shut. She couldn’t seem to draw in a deep breath.
Then he began to stroke her other breast. The sensual touch had her jerking beneath h
im, and she realized that her panties were wet.
“So damn beautiful.”
His growled words made her eyes open. She’d never thought about beauty much before. Yet he made her feel beautiful right then.
Feeling beautiful—that just wasn’t enough. Her body seemed too hot, her heart raced too fast, and she wanted the pleasure that was so close.
Her hands slid over his chest. Her touch was slower than his had been. Far less certain. But as she touched him, his body stiffened against her, the muscles clenching.
“You should . . . be careful.” His words barely sounded human as he gritted them out. “Shifters . . . aren’t known for their control.”
She was already losing her own control. What did it matter? “I want to know . . .” Marna stopped. She wasn’t sure what to say. Pleasure? Sex? Was that what she wanted? Did she just want to know what it felt like?
He wasn’t a safe test for her. She should find someone else. Someone not a shifter.
Someone who wasn’t the brother of the bastard who’d hurt her so badly before.
Tanner isn’t like him.
Tanner’s hand eased down her body. She expected him to rip away her panties. Weren’t shifters supposed to be savage and uncontrolled like that?
But he didn’t rip them away. He slowly eased down the silk. Silk he’d bought. His mouth kissed its way from her belly button on down to—
Her breath caught in her throat. His fingers were between her legs, parting her to him, and his mouth—Tanner’s mouth—was on her sensitive flesh. His tongue swiped over her, and her hips jerked as if an electric shock had jolted her.
Again.
She’d whispered the word. But she realized she didn’t have to tell him. Tanner was licking her. Kissing her. Tasting her with his tongue even as his finger slid into her body. The pleasure might have been out of her reach before, but right then it was so close.
His tongue swiped over her core again. Then his mouth was on her clit and he sucked—
Marna screamed when the climax hit her. An explosion of pleasure shook her whole body. It went on and on, and the room actually seemed to dim around her.
Nothing, nothing had ever been like this. So good. So consuming.
So much . . . pleasure.
Marna realized her hands were fisted in Tanner’s dark hair. Her thighs were trembling, and her breath heaved out. She forced her fingers to unclench. Forced herself to suck in more air for her starving lungs.
Tanner’s head lifted. His eyes were shining as he stared at her—and he licked his lips.
Her sex clenched.
“I love the way you taste.” His voice was so deep, dark.
She couldn’t speak. Had she shouted before? Screamed in pleasure?
Maybe.
“I could eat you up.”
Her heart lurched.
His gaze dropped to her sex once more. He swallowed. “Want . . .”
She still wanted him. She’d come, erupted, but . . .
Marna wanted Tanner inside of her.
And he was—he was pulling away? Why? This wasn’t the way things worked, at least not for humans. “Tanner?”
He rose beside the bed and stood with his back to her. She saw the heavy marks on his skin, marks she hadn’t even noticed before. Long, twisting scars that cut deep into his flesh. Scars that curled out from his back, wrapped around his sides and—
He turned to glance back at her.
Her gaze locked on the scars that cut across his stomach. Sunlight shot through the window, so there was no hiding the scars. But then, Tanner wasn’t trying to hide the marks.
She was the one who hid her scars.
“That was . . .” His hands were clenched. “You haven’t been with a man before, have you?”
Why lie? Oh, right, she couldn’t. “You’re my first.”
A shudder worked over him, and his fists whitened. “I could tell. Your response… the way you came for me.” His breath rasped out. “Beautiful.”
Her thighs were still shaking. And her shifter—he was turning and walking away. “Why? Why are you leaving me?”
His hand lifted and his fingers curled around the door frame. She could see the edge of his claws breaking through the skin of his fingertips. He dug those claws into the wood, and Marna swallowed.
“You aren’t ready for what I’ll do to you.”
Were his words supposed to be a threat? Or a promise?
“First times aren’t meant for shifters.” He wasn’t looking at her. His claws dug deeper into the doorframe. “We’re too rough. Too wild.” His laugh was bitter. “Especially for an angel.”
Marna grabbed for the covers and pulled them around her body. She hadn’t known a need for modesty, until she fell. “So what was . . . that?” Him, kissing her, touching her, tasting her?
“It was me being fucking starving for you.” His claws had carved deep grooves into the wood. “And realizing how dangerous I can be to you.”
She rose from the bed. Marna wrapped the sheet around her and headed toward him. “I don’t think you are.” When had things changed for her? She could see his claws. His scars.
Doesn’t matter.
He was a shifter, and he was the man who’d given her a taste of paradise on earth. Not wild. Not dangerous.
Perfect pleasure.
She leaned forward and brushed her lips over a scar that twisted the flesh of his back.
Her lips had barely skimmed over his flesh when he whirled to face her. “Don’t.”
“I want to.” She wanted to kiss and touch more of him. He’d had his chance. Wasn’t it hers, now?
“You don’t understand.” He pushed her back. Took a step away from her as if he needed extra distance. His nostrils flared. “If I take you, there’ll be no going back for you. For me.”
Marna shook her head. “What does it matter? Humans have sex all the time—”
“I’m not human.”
She stared at him.
“Neither are you.”
His erection pressed against the front of his jeans. He was that aroused, and still telling her no?
“Panthers,” he spoke slowly, “we’re territorial. When something is ours, it’s ours. Nothing, no one, takes what belongs to us.” He took another step away from her. “We’re vicious, deadly, and the worst nightmares most folks have ever seen.”
Marna didn’t know what to say. It was true that the only nightmare she’d had since being on earth had been about panthers. Their claws and bloodlust. But now . . .
“For your first time, you don’t want that.”
She wanted him.
“If I have much more of you . . .” His eyes burned. His fangs elongated. His face—he was changing. Shifting. “I won’t ever let you go.”
He whirled away from her then. Marna chased after him. He was shifting before her eyes. His bones snapped, his body contorted, and he hit the landing below with a thud.
“Tanner!”
His head turned, and he stared back up at her. “Don’t . . . watch.” Gravel-rough.
But she couldn’t look away. Fur burst along his skin, perfect, black fur that lined his body. His eyes glowed, growing brighter, brighter, and the man that he’d been vanished as the beast took his place.
The panther was huge. Muscled, lethal. She’d never seen a more powerful killing machine. When he opened his mouth and roared, his razor-sharp teeth glinted. His claws, sharp enough to rip a man to shreds, flashed as he threw up his front legs.
How much of the man still remained inside of the beast? Marna crept slowly down the stairs, the end of the sheet trailing behind her like a bride’s wedding dress.
Her hand slid down the wooden banister.
He roared again.
Her panther was very, very angry.
But he wasn’t attacking her. Wasn’t even trying to come close. Instead, as she neared the bottom of the steps, he spun away and lunged toward the back of the house.
“Tanner, wait
!” She rushed after him, but the panther leapt through a picture window. Glass shattered, raining down, and the panther hurtled toward the woods that waited just behind the old house.
He didn’t look back.
She didn’t call out to him again.
He was an idiot. Tanner ran through the woods until his beast had settled down. Until the wild hunger for Marna eased. Until he could breathe without tasting her.
Fucking. Idiot.
He shifted back into the form of a man and his hands dug into the earth. He’d had her beneath him. Been ready to thrust deep into her silken core, and he’d stopped.
Pulling back hadn’t been the panther’s plan. The beast had snarled and fought him, desperate for more of Marna. He’d never had a shift come on him so suddenly.
The panther didn’t like being denied what was his.
And the beast definitely thought of Marna that way.
Mine.
He’d tried to warn her. Once he’d realized—her first, her only—he’d tried to let her know the danger that faced her. Tanner wasn’t the sharing sort, and if he had that silken body, no one else would get near her.
Was she ready for the full force of his lust? The dark needs that he had? Could an angel even begin to understand what he’d want from her?
Tanner rose to his feet and began to stalk back through the woods. He owned over fifteen acres here. Plenty of room for the panther to run without worrying about prying eyes.
He’d been gentle before. Did she realize the battle he’d fought? He’d shown her only the softest of touches. Given her only a glimpse of what could be.
All the while, the panther had clawed and fought inside of him. Take. Take.
The beast recognized Marna for what she was. Oh, it wasn’t some predestined, our-souls-are-meant-as-one bullshit. He didn’t believe in that crap.
It was chemical. Physical. The panther scenting a female that could be a genetic match for him. A female strong enough to carry his offspring.
An angel and a shifter? Insane. The last blend like that had ended up producing his fucked-up brother Brandt.
But . . .
He wanted Marna. He ached for her. He dreamed of her at night.
He hungered for her.
