Munro (Immortals After Dark #18) by Kresley Cole

            He shook his head. “I could spook them, but not govern them. They’re too wild to follow pack dynamics.”

            “A pity.” She beckoned him closer with a crooked finger. “Munro . . .”

            He jolted straighter. “Aye?” He joined her by the wall of water, looking like a predator about to pounce.

            She was too determined to give up now. Doubt is the enemy of determination. “Do I hold sway over you?”

            “More sway than the godsdamned moon,” he rasped, the words akin to a vow.

            Compelling male! His intensity was like rain on a bloom, seeping into every inch of her, all of her secret places. Focus, Ren! “Is there anything I could do to persuade you to fight the newlings for me?”

            “Touch me and see.” He drew her hand close until it rested under his chin.

            As she peered up at him, her hand shook. She was a knife thrower; her hands never shook! She had forever pondered how best to hurt immortals. Now she had to figure out how to pleasure one. Her sneaky thumb decided to feel his stubble. “It’s soft,” she murmured, surprised. “With a bite.”

            His lips curved into that spellbinder’s smile. “Ah, lass, that’s exactly how I’ll make love to you.”

            She drew in a tremulous breath.

            “At least the first time.”





ELEVEN





            She’s going for the blade.

            A glimmer had lit Kereny’s vivid eyes, and her voice had softened. No more general’s tone. Like a struck tuning fork, Munro’s body vibrated from the change in her demeanor.

            So his bonnie carnie was attempting to seduce him? Best case: she intended to persuade him to fight the newlings for her. Worst case: she planned to stab Munro again and behead him while he was unconscious.

            But he would turn this seduction game right back on her. He had centuries of experience, and he would draw on every year. That’s it, beauty. Come for your little knife.

            He considered putting it far out of reach, but he needed her to think she had a chance at reaching it—at least, until he’d given her a taste of their bond. Once she’d comprehended their fated connection, she would become as lost for him as he already was for her.

            When she gave his stubble another stroke, he grasped her free hand and traced the scars on her fingers. “You never considered quitting?” Those marks were part of what made her Kereny. Which meant he was enamored with them.

            “Quitting isn’t in my nature. I needed to be the best more than I needed to be free of pain.”

            Bold, fierce female. He ran his knuckles over one of her cheeks, marveling at her soft skin. Bold she might be, but she was also beyond delicate to one like him. He caressed the line of her jaw as he would gossamer.

            Her lids fluttered. Yet then she tensed and said, “You can’t touch me.”

            “Why is that?” Because she wants to get back to her groom unscathed. Munro’s fangs sharpened again, jealousy sending his thoughts into chaos. He wanted to hurt her as she hurt him. Or cherish her. No, possess her. Hold her dainty hand or fuck her till she screamed his name.

            “What if things get out of control? What if your beast rises?”

            He struggled for a level tone. “I’ve more control over mine than the average Lykae, have found cooler heads prevail.” But that was before he’d fed it rage.

            She dropped her hand, and he felt the lack keenly. Nooo, waited so long for this!

            “Vow to the Lore that you won’t touch me.”

            “Why would I do that?” If he made her that unbreakable vow, only she could cancel it.

            “You are convinced that I’m yours, but I’m still deciding about you. Munro, will you not let me explore what you have to offer?”

            The sound of his name on her tongue rendered him to putty. He fought her pull. “Those vows are no’ trifling.”

            She raised her brows. “Neither is my touch. You either want it or you don’t.”