The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance (Trisha Telep) (Kitty Norville 0.50)

“I cannot stay with you, Dutch,” he said, but I was moving towards him, and he wasn’t backing away.

“To hell with that.”

Before he could argue with me, I threw my arms around his neck, and I kissed him.

And kissed him.

And kept right on kissing him.

Now this —

Angel or no angel, 306-year-old winged guys, and all the demons in the universe aside -

This was Heaven.

He tasted like clean water, fresh air and toasted cinnamon. He felt like warmth and muscle and everything I had always wanted to touch, to stroke, to hold.

Shant kissed me back with a power and passion I had dreamed about, but never expected. The strength of his embrace, the way his mouth joined with mine as he tasted me right back, rumbling his pleasure so deeply I felt it in my throat, my chest. His hands caressed my waist, then my hips, then lower, pressing me against him, letting me feel exactly what he wanted, and how much he wanted it.

Every inch of my body responded to him, tin

gling, then burning, then throbbing with the force of my own need.

He pulled back long enough to press his lips to my ears and whisper, “You change everything.”

I struggled to breathe, finally succeeded, and could think of nothing to say but, “I’m glad.”

His smile was hungry and happy and sad all at the same time. My heart ached as I memorized each line and dimple on his face, and hoped I could remember that expression every minute of my life, forever.

When he picked me up, I felt like I was flying again, to my bedroom, to my bed.

Then we flew to places I never imagined I would go.

Six

Nothing. Ever. Changes.

I woke up alone.

Naked.

Sweetly sore.

Satisfied.

But alone.

Except for the tall, red-headed Amazonian-looking woman with the sword, sitting on a chair near my bedroom door. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and, when she turned away from me to sheath her blade, I could see the tall ridges of flesh on her back, outlined by the white cotton.

“I’m Houri,” she said in a voice that sounded like a female Terminator from those Arnold Schwarzenegger movies. A bored female Terminator. “I’ve come to protect you. I’m—”

“Shaddai,” I finished for her, then turned over and pulled the cover over my head.

Damn straight nothing ever changes — and crazy definitely doesn’t change. I got cold all over and started to shake. Then I wanted to cry.

No. I wanted to scream. Demand that she take me to Shant.

But even as I pressed my face into my pillow and ground my teeth together, I worried.