How much could she be expected to handle? “I would be humbled to have them with you, but no’ for a verra long while. We’ve got all the time in the worlds for bairns. After you become immortal.”
“Always back to that. Why do you get to make this choice about my life?”
“Because I have a fated interest in your longevity.” Oi, that sounded shite. Where was his effortless charm?
“Hmm.”
His tension only increased. “Hmm? What does that mean?”
“Full confession: I did plan to use my wiles on you. After all, I had so much success with them in the cave.”
He scowled at that.
“You were utterly in my hands, mine to do with as I would. A puppet, really. Or more like you were a violin and I a virtuoso—”
“Are you done?”
She shrugged. “I’ve ultimately decided against that plan. You’re too old for games, and I’m too tired. But I will wear you down eventually.” She sounded sure of herself. Yet then her gaze landed on his lips. Her pupils dilated, and her heart stuttered.
He turned in his chair to face her and leaned in until their knees touched. “Will you? I think immortality tempts you. I think I tempt you. You already want me any way you can get me.”
Ren scoffed, “You sound as drunk as the entire populace of New Orleans.” But she did want him. Badly. Just one more kiss, and then maybe she could put him behind her.
No, Ren!
His eyes held hers as he said, “You could’ve killed me in the cave. You knew I would wake, yet you spared me. You wanted me to come for you, seize you, take you for my own.” His sensuality smoldered, making it difficult to concentrate.
“I spared you because I kill evil immortals. You’re not evil; merely insufferable.”
“Then insufferable Lykae must be just your type—because I’m doing it for you.”
He was. God help her. His imposing size seemed to suck the oxygen out of the room, leaving her light-headed. That immortal spell came over her again, and for the first time she recognized it for what it was.
A haze of lust.
How could she desire someone so deeply when she resented him just as much? “Keep dreaming, wolf,” she said between shallowed breaths. Deciding that retreat was the best course, she rose and strode from the dining room.
He called, “Doona walk away from this, Kereny.”
She didn’t look back, even when his chair scraped across the floor.
A split second later, he grabbed her hand and tugged her around to face him. “Tonight you were eye-fucking me all through dinner, getting nice and wet for me. You crave more of what we started in the cave.”
“That’s true,” she murmured. “You’ve found me out. Oh, wolf, I do so crave . . . stabbing you in the gut again.”
“Harridan! Stop fighting what’s between us and accept fate.” He grasped her waist with his hot palms and rubbed his thumbs right below her breasts. “Accept that I’m under your skin just as much as you’re under mine.”
When she mustered a defiant look, he said, “Stubborn wench, you are such a pain in my arse.”
“That must be just your type then.” She glanced down at his erection. “Because this pain in the arse is doing it for you.”
“You are. Fuck me, you are. I canna reason. Canna plan. Can think of naught but you.” His gaze dipped to her lips.
She snapped, “Do not dare kiss me.” Yet she found herself raising her face.
“Have zero fears on that score.” Yet he dragged her closer.
The rigid length of his manhood pressed against her, and she had to stifle a moan. “I mean it, devil wolf.”
“No kiss for you, carnie,” he rasped, even as he leaned down. “No’ inclined to delight you thus.”
“Delight me? Flatter yourself some more, you vain swine!”
Realization lit his golden gaze. “So this is how it will be with us.”
Curiosity forced her to ask, “What will be?”
“With you and me, fighting will always lead to fucking—”
The wolves outside howled anew, and then Ren and Munro were kissing. He gave a sensual lick against the seam of her lips, and a cry of sheer relief escaped her.
When his tongue dipped inside, finding hers, she moaned at the sensations and threaded her fingers through the hair at his nape. With a groan, he slanted his mouth, taking hers more deeply.
A taste of whiskey . . . breathing each other’s breaths . . . heat flooding her veins.
She tried to block out such divine pleasure and focus on how manipulative he was. This is forbidden. Stop him. You’re married—
His thumbs reached her stiffened nipples and stroked, a live-wire shock of bliss. She clutched at his hair and sagged in defeat.
As if he’d read her mind, he said against her lips, “Tell me you doona feel the same way about me.” Or else. The threat lingered in his words, and even that aroused her. “Tell me!”