Saroya cupped herself with relief, Lothaire’s eyes grew hooded.
Saroya abruptly dropped her hands. In a brisk tone, she said, “This face is the most lovely of my temples’.”
Though this present guise couldn’t compare to hers when she’d been a cat-eyed enchantress, Saroya had enjoyed some success luring victims. Males wanted to protect the vulnerable-looking girl and pluck her innocence. Instead, Saroya had plucked their hearts, eyes, and testes.
Unlike her twin sister, Lamia, a goddess of life and fertility, Saroya was a virgin deity and forever would be, defending her chastity to the death. . . .
To others’ deaths.
Yet Lothaire believed she was a sexual creature, believed she’d never taken a lover into Elizabeth’s body out of faithfulness to him. . . .
“Indeed lovely.” His voice had grown huskier. “Who came before this human?”
“I possessed a middle-aged professor of Americana. I had much to learn from him, kept him alive for most of the nineties. After him came a shovel-toothed hunchback of a woman. I leapt off a building to be rid of her.” She frowned. “That transfer hadn’t proved as instantaneous as I’d hoped.”
“How are these temples chosen for you?”
“It could be based on a bloodline. Only the one who cursed me can say.” Lamia, damn you to the Ether! “All I know is that I will do anything to remain in Elizabeth—and you would do well to help me. I promise you, the next form for your Bride cannot possibly be better, if you could even find me. I might possess a male, or a baby, or an octogenarian. Not a young and fair innocent.”
Yet another reason this body was a seamless fit. Elizabeth was a virgin, much to Lothaire’s fascination.
He reached for her waist, turning her to face him. She stiffened but allowed it. “I’m quite content with your host as well. How long can you hold her off?”
“She’ll rise this very night. She is exceedingly strong-willed. Lothaire, I want her gone.”
He brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, his red eyes following the movement of his hand. “And you shall have everything you wish once I reclaim the ring. For now, I will make her fear ever to rise again.”
“You think you can make one like her go dormant? How? When you can’t harm the body to torture her into submission?”
His lips drew back from his fangs, not a smile. “Let me worry about our pathetic little mortal.”
“Such vitriol.” One thing she’d learned about Lothaire? He despised humans even more than she did.
“Elizabeth just attempted to destroy herself, thinking that would killmy Bride. Yet I can’t punish her for her transgression!” he grated. “Be assured that the next time she rises will be her last .”
Saroya had never met a man so certain of himself. But then he was powerful, brilliant, calculating, and, above all things, perfectly fashioned.
Lothaire was as compelling as a virility god.
The night of their first meeting, she’d allowed him to lick her prey’s blood from her skin as he’d stroked his own organ to release. Though she’d been repelled by his animalistic needs, even she had been reluctantly entranced by the sight. And she was above such urges.
Saroya despised all things sexual. Blood and death were all she revered—certainly not an act designed to create life .
In fact, she loathed males—those reckless carriers of seed—entirely.
Now this one was cupping her nape, his gaze locked on her lips, no doubt intent on claiming her. How to put him off once more? “As I told you years ago, Lothaire, I won’t yield this body until it’s fully mine to give you.”
He straightened, meeting her eyes. “And as I told you, Saroya, I can’t take you until you’re immortal, else risk killing you with my strength. But there are other ways to pleasure each other.”
Disgusting primate.
“Despite ample opportunity, I haven’t been with another since my blooding.”
Yes, he would have ample opportunity. “I suppose
Saroya abruptly dropped her hands. In a brisk tone, she said, “This face is the most lovely of my temples’.”
Though this present guise couldn’t compare to hers when she’d been a cat-eyed enchantress, Saroya had enjoyed some success luring victims. Males wanted to protect the vulnerable-looking girl and pluck her innocence. Instead, Saroya had plucked their hearts, eyes, and testes.
Unlike her twin sister, Lamia, a goddess of life and fertility, Saroya was a virgin deity and forever would be, defending her chastity to the death. . . .
To others’ deaths.
Yet Lothaire believed she was a sexual creature, believed she’d never taken a lover into Elizabeth’s body out of faithfulness to him. . . .
“Indeed lovely.” His voice had grown huskier. “Who came before this human?”
“I possessed a middle-aged professor of Americana. I had much to learn from him, kept him alive for most of the nineties. After him came a shovel-toothed hunchback of a woman. I leapt off a building to be rid of her.” She frowned. “That transfer hadn’t proved as instantaneous as I’d hoped.”
“How are these temples chosen for you?”
“It could be based on a bloodline. Only the one who cursed me can say.” Lamia, damn you to the Ether! “All I know is that I will do anything to remain in Elizabeth—and you would do well to help me. I promise you, the next form for your Bride cannot possibly be better, if you could even find me. I might possess a male, or a baby, or an octogenarian. Not a young and fair innocent.”
Yet another reason this body was a seamless fit. Elizabeth was a virgin, much to Lothaire’s fascination.
He reached for her waist, turning her to face him. She stiffened but allowed it. “I’m quite content with your host as well. How long can you hold her off?”
“She’ll rise this very night. She is exceedingly strong-willed. Lothaire, I want her gone.”
He brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, his red eyes following the movement of his hand. “And you shall have everything you wish once I reclaim the ring. For now, I will make her fear ever to rise again.”
“You think you can make one like her go dormant? How? When you can’t harm the body to torture her into submission?”
His lips drew back from his fangs, not a smile. “Let me worry about our pathetic little mortal.”
“Such vitriol.” One thing she’d learned about Lothaire? He despised humans even more than she did.
“Elizabeth just attempted to destroy herself, thinking that would killmy Bride. Yet I can’t punish her for her transgression!” he grated. “Be assured that the next time she rises will be her last .”
Saroya had never met a man so certain of himself. But then he was powerful, brilliant, calculating, and, above all things, perfectly fashioned.
Lothaire was as compelling as a virility god.
The night of their first meeting, she’d allowed him to lick her prey’s blood from her skin as he’d stroked his own organ to release. Though she’d been repelled by his animalistic needs, even she had been reluctantly entranced by the sight. And she was above such urges.
Saroya despised all things sexual. Blood and death were all she revered—certainly not an act designed to create life .
In fact, she loathed males—those reckless carriers of seed—entirely.
Now this one was cupping her nape, his gaze locked on her lips, no doubt intent on claiming her. How to put him off once more? “As I told you years ago, Lothaire, I won’t yield this body until it’s fully mine to give you.”
He straightened, meeting her eyes. “And as I told you, Saroya, I can’t take you until you’re immortal, else risk killing you with my strength. But there are other ways to pleasure each other.”
Disgusting primate.
“Despite ample opportunity, I haven’t been with another since my blooding.”
Yes, he would have ample opportunity. “I suppose
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