Sins of the Soul

Hunger clawed her, control drawn thin, frayed, her entire focus on the slide and pump of his cock, the joining of their bodies, the synchrony of their souls.

He gripped her buttocks, his fingers sliding between her cheeks, and he drove into her in a fast, hard rhythm.

Frenzied, she sank her teeth into the swell of muscle at the top of his chest, sucking, biting. She tasted his blood, salty, warm, rich on her tongue, joining them in yet another way.

Sharp and wild, she spiraled out of control. Crying out, she came, her whole body pulsing with her release.





NAPHRé SCREAMED HIS NAME and scored his back with her nails, her hips writhing wildly beneath his as she convulsed around him, so tight. So wet.

So damned hot. With a last, deep thrust, Alastor came, his orgasm crashing over him in waves, ripping away the last pretense of his control.

He hung there, his release rocking through him, going on and on. Shuddering, he let the pleasure score him, marking him, freeing him.

Her arms were wrapped around him, and her legs tight, like she never wanted to let him go. He dipped his head, let his mouth move along her jaw, down to her neck. Tiny bites. Open-mouthed kisses. Anything to keep the feel and taste of her vibrant in his senses.

He closed his teeth on her, hard enough to leave his mark, because he’d liked the way it felt when she did that to him.

“I’ll start a war before I let him have you,” he murmured. And the second the words were free, he knew them for the truth. He would. He would rally his brothers. He would go against Sutekh. Screw politics. Screw—

“Him? You mean her…Izanami.”

No, he didn’t. And here was his opportunity to tell her. It was no demon that owned her soul. It was Sutekh. But the admission stuck in his throat.

He’d only just found her. He didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t know how she would react to the news that it was his father that had turned her into a killer.

Alastor felt like he was running blind, having no idea how or why Sutekh had claimed her. No idea what Izanami wanted with her. No idea how Naphré would react when he revealed all.

Telling her that he’d known almost all along that she was indebted to Sutekh was not a risk he was willing to take. Not at this moment, when their very lives hung in a tenuous balance. This place was anything but safe.

He wasn’t even certain where this place was.

Too many variables. He would tell her. But not here. Not now.

Let him get her back to the world of man, to a place where he was at full power. A place where he felt in control. He’d tell her then.

“I would never let you start a war over me,” she whispered, clearly mistaking the source of his tension. “There’s a way out of here, and we’ll find it, but it won’t be at the expense of innocents. I only kill killers. That doesn’t change just because on this job I’m my own boss and the payment is that I get to stay alive.”

“Bloody hell.”

She laughed. He could feel the vibration in his own chest where it rested against hers. Then she sobered, her expression grown serious.

“Why didn’t you open a portal?” she asked. “Why didn’t you set yourself free?”

“It would’ve been a one-way trip, pet. Once I left, I wasn’t going to be able to come back. Izanami would never allow it.” He leaned up on his elbows and held her gaze, willing her to understand. “And I wasn’t leaving without you.”

She took a slow breath. “And now?”

“And now we’ll have to find another way home.” He shook his head, hating to have to give her this answer. He didn’t like to admit his current weakness even to himself; admitting it to her made him feel…out of control. But that was just it. He wasn’t in control. Not here. He had to face that, accept it, turn it to their advantage, or they didn’t stand a chance of making it out. “I’m tapped out, love. It takes a bit of skill and more than a bit of power to connect realms.” He paused. “The skill’s there. But I’m a bit low on the power.”

Whatever reaction he expected, it wasn’t the one he got. Women. Despite having been raised by a bevy of them, he had no bloody clue how their minds worked.

Instead of expressing concern that he’d failed to provide a way home, she smiled. Her lips curved, pretty dimples peeking in her cheeks. “I’ve graduated?”

“What?”

“You didn’t call me ‘pet.’ You called me—”

“Love.”

She nodded. “Just checking.”





CHAPTER TWENTY



LOKAN KRAYL STOOD VERY STILL. Around him, the darkness was complete. Not even a pinprick of light reached him. Slowly, he extended his hand. His fingertips feathered along cool, damp stone. Indentations etched the stone. He stayed very still, focusing on the shapes, tracing his index finger over them.