He had to break through to her heart.
Miranda kicked out wildly. “Y-you can force me to feel pleasure, but you will never seduce me!”
Zayan jerked his attention upward to see Lukos stroking his fingers along the neckline of her pelisse. Miranda opened her eyes wide. They locked with his. Hers were vivid blue—the brilliant shining blue of the waves that lapped at the southern shores of Italy.
She didn’t look frightened. She looked . . . hopeful. It shocked Zayan so much, he straightened from her wrist. Strangely, he could not draw away from her steady, determined gaze.
“You won’t seduce me,” she said again. “No matter what you do. But I want to touch you. I believe I can return your soul, Zayan.”
Did she really think she could save him, the naïve child? His answer was harsh. “You can’t, angel.”
“Let me touch you,” she said.
He had not expected this. She spoke to him as his wife used to. He was the general, but his wife had spoken sharply to him, had expected him to obey her command.
Zayan jerked back as the woman’s hand struck his chest, her fingers splayed wide. Heat surged through his pectorals, a hot BLOOD DEEP / 59
spear through his muscles, a fiery grip around his heart. Her power held him transfixed. He couldn’t move.
By the gods, she was strong with magic.
Far more than he’d guessed.
His temperature soared; heat raced through his veins as though he were being consumed by fire. Could she make him burst into flame? Could her touch make him explode, burn to ash?
“Oh! Oh!” she cried. Her body was convulsing. She moaned.
She moved her hips in the fierce bounce of a woman caught in the throes of a powerful orgasm. Her lips opened wide as she rode out the pleasure.
Zayan’s nostrils flared at the tang of her juices. He could scent her cunny becoming wet and creamy. Lukos could scent her, too, he knew. Lukos could shift shape and become a wolf, which made the demon even more primal about sex than Zayan was.
“What in hell is she?” Lukos growled.
Still enduring the blasting heat, Zayan could barely speak.
“Not a demon,” he managed. “Not a vampire.” He drew in a deep breath as the heat began to ebb. He wasn’t going to go up in a ball of flame. “An avenging angel?” But he didn’t think so.
Miss Miranda slumped back against the seat. Her chest rose and fell. Zayan saw the horror in her eyes. The stark fear. She stared down at her own shaking hands.
She didn’t understand her own power. He read it in her thoughts before her intense emotions became a blur that he couldn’t understand. He’d never had that happen before. The only minds that could shutter themselves from him were those of vampire queens, and demons who had been Lucifer’s apprentices. But he had glimpsed the most powerful emotion Miranda felt—she was afraid of herself.
You don’t know what you are, do you? he asked softly in her thoughts. He tried to shield them from Lukos but doubted he 60 / Sharon Page
was successful. Zayan was the older vampire—and stronger, he believed. But not quite strong enough.
Helplessly, Miranda looked at him. “It’s never felt like that before. That’s never . . . never happened. I don’t know if I did anything.”
Sweetheart . . . Zayan had only ever spoken so softly and gently to his children. What exactly were you trying to do? You can’t believe your touch could return my soul.
Miranda couldn’t let them find out the truth. “I-I thought you could be saved,” she lied, “by a good soul.”
Lukos chuckled. “You thought what? The touch of a virtuous woman would drive his demons out?”
Mute, Miranda nodded her head. She prayed they thought she was just some impetuous do-gooder. What a fool she’d been to reveal herself. But she’d thought it would work. She had saved Aunt Eugenia, her brother, Simon, her sister-in-law, Caroline, the young boy in the park, and others over the last twelve years. She’d thought she could save a
Miranda kicked out wildly. “Y-you can force me to feel pleasure, but you will never seduce me!”
Zayan jerked his attention upward to see Lukos stroking his fingers along the neckline of her pelisse. Miranda opened her eyes wide. They locked with his. Hers were vivid blue—the brilliant shining blue of the waves that lapped at the southern shores of Italy.
She didn’t look frightened. She looked . . . hopeful. It shocked Zayan so much, he straightened from her wrist. Strangely, he could not draw away from her steady, determined gaze.
“You won’t seduce me,” she said again. “No matter what you do. But I want to touch you. I believe I can return your soul, Zayan.”
Did she really think she could save him, the naïve child? His answer was harsh. “You can’t, angel.”
“Let me touch you,” she said.
He had not expected this. She spoke to him as his wife used to. He was the general, but his wife had spoken sharply to him, had expected him to obey her command.
Zayan jerked back as the woman’s hand struck his chest, her fingers splayed wide. Heat surged through his pectorals, a hot BLOOD DEEP / 59
spear through his muscles, a fiery grip around his heart. Her power held him transfixed. He couldn’t move.
By the gods, she was strong with magic.
Far more than he’d guessed.
His temperature soared; heat raced through his veins as though he were being consumed by fire. Could she make him burst into flame? Could her touch make him explode, burn to ash?
“Oh! Oh!” she cried. Her body was convulsing. She moaned.
She moved her hips in the fierce bounce of a woman caught in the throes of a powerful orgasm. Her lips opened wide as she rode out the pleasure.
Zayan’s nostrils flared at the tang of her juices. He could scent her cunny becoming wet and creamy. Lukos could scent her, too, he knew. Lukos could shift shape and become a wolf, which made the demon even more primal about sex than Zayan was.
“What in hell is she?” Lukos growled.
Still enduring the blasting heat, Zayan could barely speak.
“Not a demon,” he managed. “Not a vampire.” He drew in a deep breath as the heat began to ebb. He wasn’t going to go up in a ball of flame. “An avenging angel?” But he didn’t think so.
Miss Miranda slumped back against the seat. Her chest rose and fell. Zayan saw the horror in her eyes. The stark fear. She stared down at her own shaking hands.
She didn’t understand her own power. He read it in her thoughts before her intense emotions became a blur that he couldn’t understand. He’d never had that happen before. The only minds that could shutter themselves from him were those of vampire queens, and demons who had been Lucifer’s apprentices. But he had glimpsed the most powerful emotion Miranda felt—she was afraid of herself.
You don’t know what you are, do you? he asked softly in her thoughts. He tried to shield them from Lukos but doubted he 60 / Sharon Page
was successful. Zayan was the older vampire—and stronger, he believed. But not quite strong enough.
Helplessly, Miranda looked at him. “It’s never felt like that before. That’s never . . . never happened. I don’t know if I did anything.”
Sweetheart . . . Zayan had only ever spoken so softly and gently to his children. What exactly were you trying to do? You can’t believe your touch could return my soul.
Miranda couldn’t let them find out the truth. “I-I thought you could be saved,” she lied, “by a good soul.”
Lukos chuckled. “You thought what? The touch of a virtuous woman would drive his demons out?”
Mute, Miranda nodded her head. She prayed they thought she was just some impetuous do-gooder. What a fool she’d been to reveal herself. But she’d thought it would work. She had saved Aunt Eugenia, her brother, Simon, her sister-in-law, Caroline, the young boy in the park, and others over the last twelve years. She’d thought she could save a
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