those bulging muscles. Okay, he was flipping right out gorgeous. Groaning again, she tried to imagine him naked on her couch holding out his hands and begging her to come for him.
Shuddering from the erotic havoc dancing in her mind, her body warmed from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. She had no doubt that she could get off just by looking at him. And that was downright nuts.
She wondered how often he had to work out to maintain that gorgeous physique. Rolling her eyes, she couldn’t remember the last time she had looked at a man without being disgusted. And to her astonishment, a soft smile slid across her lips as she roamed Payne‘s body. She especially liked his hands, clean and neatly maintained and powerful. Her skin glowed and the warmth in her body turned to a devastating heat that spread throughout her limbs making her ache deep inside.
Chanta! You’re doing it again! You’re only torturing yourself. What the hell would someone like him want with someone like you? Devour you? Scare the crap out of you again?
She eyed Payne; he couldn’t be all that bad if her cats had taken a fancy to him.
Chanta licked her lips bringing her fingers to her mouth. He had tasted so good, clean, and powerful. She shivered as she recalled how good it had felt to be in his arms. No, good was not the right adjective; she had felt things she had never felt before. Passion, desire, need, want, and damn if the list wasn’t getting longer by the second.
Which made absolutely no sense whatsoever. Eight years ago, she had literally run from him. But that kiss . . .
“Why are you staring at me like that?” Payne drawled out his words as he blatantly roamed her face for an answer.
His voice was so deep and gritty that Chanta jumped. It was a slow rumble in his chest, like a lion giving off a small warning to any would-be trespassers. It was sexy—too damn hot to be anything but supernatural. “I was just admiring your . . . your ring.”
The lie fell from her lips and her cheeks went red with embarrassment. Well, she couldn’t very well admit that she had been checking him out. She looked at the floor and hoped he believed her.
“You’re lying to me. Don’t worry, most people find me frightening.” He paused. “Do you find me frightening?”
Chanta twisted in the chair and looked up to meet his obsidian eyes. “I don’t find you frightening, just weird as hell.” And sexy as hell.
“You should be very afraid of me.” He grinned, one corner of his mouth lifting. “You were very frightened of me eight years ago.”
“If you were going to harm me, Gyth would not have sent you, so why should I be afraid of you?”
“Because I am the devil’s son.”
That must have been the cue for her cats to start stretching and purring. Chanta grinned. “How am I supposed to find you scary when my cats have all curled up in your lap?”
“Cats are territorial and find comfort in the dark, much the same as I do.”
Chanta lowered her gaze. She had to ask. “Are you territorial also?”
“Yes.”
Chanta watched as he shifted and ran his hand along Jazz’s back. “How did you know where I lived?”
“Your address is on your key ring.”
“Oh.” Her throaty reply rang in her own ears. What was she expecting? He was a Destroyer, a killing machine designed and created for one specific purpose—to protect the One Race and she guessed that included taking members, like her, through the Burning.
Turning her head, she hid the tear that was threatening to slide down her cheek. With a quick swipe, it was gone and she took a deep rattled breath. She wondered just how many women Payne had taken through the Burning. How many women had lain in his gorgeous arms and transformed from human to demi-goddess?
And just why the hell was it bothering her to think of other women in his arms?
Chapter 12
Payne ran his hand through his hair and stared at Chanta’s bare foot and the birthmark that hovered above her ankle, a
Shuddering from the erotic havoc dancing in her mind, her body warmed from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. She had no doubt that she could get off just by looking at him. And that was downright nuts.
She wondered how often he had to work out to maintain that gorgeous physique. Rolling her eyes, she couldn’t remember the last time she had looked at a man without being disgusted. And to her astonishment, a soft smile slid across her lips as she roamed Payne‘s body. She especially liked his hands, clean and neatly maintained and powerful. Her skin glowed and the warmth in her body turned to a devastating heat that spread throughout her limbs making her ache deep inside.
Chanta! You’re doing it again! You’re only torturing yourself. What the hell would someone like him want with someone like you? Devour you? Scare the crap out of you again?
She eyed Payne; he couldn’t be all that bad if her cats had taken a fancy to him.
Chanta licked her lips bringing her fingers to her mouth. He had tasted so good, clean, and powerful. She shivered as she recalled how good it had felt to be in his arms. No, good was not the right adjective; she had felt things she had never felt before. Passion, desire, need, want, and damn if the list wasn’t getting longer by the second.
Which made absolutely no sense whatsoever. Eight years ago, she had literally run from him. But that kiss . . .
“Why are you staring at me like that?” Payne drawled out his words as he blatantly roamed her face for an answer.
His voice was so deep and gritty that Chanta jumped. It was a slow rumble in his chest, like a lion giving off a small warning to any would-be trespassers. It was sexy—too damn hot to be anything but supernatural. “I was just admiring your . . . your ring.”
The lie fell from her lips and her cheeks went red with embarrassment. Well, she couldn’t very well admit that she had been checking him out. She looked at the floor and hoped he believed her.
“You’re lying to me. Don’t worry, most people find me frightening.” He paused. “Do you find me frightening?”
Chanta twisted in the chair and looked up to meet his obsidian eyes. “I don’t find you frightening, just weird as hell.” And sexy as hell.
“You should be very afraid of me.” He grinned, one corner of his mouth lifting. “You were very frightened of me eight years ago.”
“If you were going to harm me, Gyth would not have sent you, so why should I be afraid of you?”
“Because I am the devil’s son.”
That must have been the cue for her cats to start stretching and purring. Chanta grinned. “How am I supposed to find you scary when my cats have all curled up in your lap?”
“Cats are territorial and find comfort in the dark, much the same as I do.”
Chanta lowered her gaze. She had to ask. “Are you territorial also?”
“Yes.”
Chanta watched as he shifted and ran his hand along Jazz’s back. “How did you know where I lived?”
“Your address is on your key ring.”
“Oh.” Her throaty reply rang in her own ears. What was she expecting? He was a Destroyer, a killing machine designed and created for one specific purpose—to protect the One Race and she guessed that included taking members, like her, through the Burning.
Turning her head, she hid the tear that was threatening to slide down her cheek. With a quick swipe, it was gone and she took a deep rattled breath. She wondered just how many women Payne had taken through the Burning. How many women had lain in his gorgeous arms and transformed from human to demi-goddess?
And just why the hell was it bothering her to think of other women in his arms?
Chapter 12
Payne ran his hand through his hair and stared at Chanta’s bare foot and the birthmark that hovered above her ankle, a
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