"She can come with us..."
He closed his eyes. "Georgina, when my mother was still alive - millennia ago - we lived in a camp with some of the other nephilim and their mothers. We were always running, always trying to stay ahead of those pursuing us. One night... I'll never forget it. They found us, and I swear, Armageddon itself could never be so terrible. I don't even know who did it - angels, demons, or whatever. I mean, when it comes down to it, they're all the same really. Beautiful and terrible."
"Yes," I whispered. "I've seen them."
"Then you know what they can do. They swept in and just destroyed everyone. It didn't matter who. Nephilim children. Humans. Everyone was considered a liability."
"But you escaped?"
"Yes. We were lucky. Most weren't." He turned back to look at me. His heartache made my eyes burn. "Do you see now? Do you see now why I have to do this?"
"You only further the bloodshed."
"I know, Georgina. For Christ's sake, I know. But I have no choice."
I saw in his face then that he hated being a part of that bloodshed, part of the same destructive behavior that had haunted his childhood. But I also saw that he was inextricably tied to that. He could not escape it. He had lived too long, so much longer than me. The years of fear and anger and blood had twisted him. He had to see this game played out.
Ifight every day to not let the past overtake me. Sometimes I win, sometimes it does.
"I have no choice," he repeated, face desperate. "But you do. I still want you to come with me when I'm done."
A choice. Yes, I did have a choice. A choice between him and Carter. Or did I? Was there anything I could do to save Carter at this point? Did I want to save Carter? For all I knew, Carter had slaughtered countless nephilim children over the years in the name of good. Maybe he deserved the punishment Roman wanted to mete out. What were good and evil, really, but stupid categories? Stupid categories that restricted people and punished or rewarded them based on how they responded to their own natures, natures they really didn't have any way to control.
Roman was right. The system was flawed. I just didn't know what to do about it.
What I needed was time. Time to think about all of this, time to figure out a way that would save angel and nephilim both, if such a feat were possible. I didn't know how to buy that time, though, not with Roman standing there staring at me, aflame with his romantic notion of running off together.
Time. I needed time and had no idea how to get it. I had no powers to help in a situation like this. If Roman decided I was a threat, I would be unable to fight against him. A nephilimcould easily blow one of you out of the water. I could not pull divine strings and contracts like Hugh, had no superhuman reflexes and strength like Cody and Peter. I was a succubus. I changed shape and had sex with men. That was it.
That was it...
CHAPTER 24
"Well?" Roman asked softly. "What do you think? Will you go with me?"
"I don't know," I replied, looking down. "I'm afraid." A tremulous note hung in my voice.
He turned my face toward his, obviously concerned. "Afraid of what?"
I looked at him through my lashes. It was a demure action. Vulnerable, even. Hard to resist. I hoped.
"Of... of them. I want to... but I don't think... I don't think we could ever be free. You can't hide from them, Roman. Not forever."
"We can," he breathed, putting his arms around me, his heart swelling at my fear. I didn't resist at all, letting him press his body up against mine. "I told you. I can protect you. I'll find the angel tomorrow, and we'll leave the next day. It's that easy."
"Roman..." I stared up at him, my eyes wide, the look of one overcome with some emotion. Hope, maybe. Passion. Wonder. I saw my expression mirrored in his own, and when he leaned down to kiss me, I didn't stop him this time. I even kissed him back. It had been a long time since I'd kissed simply for the sake of kissing, for the feel of his tongue gently pushing into my mouth, lips caressing mine as his hands held me tightly to him.
I could have kissed like that forever, just enjoying the physical sensation, devoid of any succubus feeding. It was magnificent. Intoxicating, even. There was no fear. Roman wanted more than kissing, however, and when he pulled me down, right onto my living room carpet, I didn't stop him then either.
Obvious heat and yearning filled his body. Yet, he moved carefully and slowly over me, showing a restraint that surprised and impressed me. I slept with so many guys that yielded right away to their own needs that it was downright astonishing to have someone apparently concerned with my fulfillment.
No way was I complaining.
He kept his body against mine, so there was no space between us as he continued kissing me. Eventually he moved from my mouth to my ear, tracing it with his tongue and lips before shifting to my neck. My neck has always been one of my more erogenous places, and I exhaled a trembling breath as that clever tongue slowly stroked the sensitive skin, making gooseflesh rise. I arched my body into his, letting him know he could have expedited things if he wanted, but he seemed to be in no hurry.
Down, down he moved, kissing my br**sts through the delicate charmeuse of my shirt until the fabric was wet and clung to my ni**les. I sat up so he could pull the shirt off me entirely. While he was at it, he slid off the skirt too, so I was left only in panties. Still focused on my br**sts, however, he continued kissing and touching them, varying between soft, feathery kisses and hard, biting ones that threatened to leave flowering purple bruises. At last he slid down, trailing his tongue along the smooth skin of my stomach, pausing when he finally reached my thighs.
Meanwhile, I was a wreck, aching and desperate to touch his body in return. But when I reached for him, he gently pushed my wrists to the floor. "Not yet," he admonished.
I guess that was just as well since I was supposed to be doing something with time here. Buying it, right? Yeah, that was it. I was delaying so I could figure out a plan. A plan that I'd get to... later.
"Magenta," he observed, running his fingers along the panties. They were flimsy, barely a collection of scraps of lace and sheer material. "Who'd have guessed?"
"I almost never wear any clothes in the pink and magenta family," I admitted, "but for some reason I love lingerie in those colors. And black, of course."
"It suits you. You can shape-shift these on anytime, right?"
"Yeah, why?"
He reached out and, with one deft motion, ripped them off. "Because they're in my way."
Bending down, he pushed my thighs apart and buried his face between them. His tongue moved slowly over the edges of my lips and then darted forward to stroke my burning, swollen clit. Moaning, I lifted and ground my hips into him, trying to get more of my aching need fulfilled. Once again, he pushed me back to the floor, taking his time, letting his tongue circle and tease me, driving me into higher and higher pleasure. Every time I seemed about to peak, he would pull back and move his tongue down, letting it actually probe inside me where I was growing wetter.
When he finally let me come, I did so loudly and wildly, my body practically thrashing as he held me down and continued sucking and tasting through my spasms. By then, I was so sensitive and dizzy that his touch was almost too much. I heard myself begging him to stop, even as he made me come again.
Easing up, he released me and backed off, watching as the blissful spasms in my body slowed down. Between us, we had his clothes off in about two seconds, and he laid his body over mine, pressing bare skin against bare skin. When my hands slid down, grasping and stroking his erection, he sighed with palpable bliss.
"Oh God, Georgina," he breathed, eyes on mine. "Oh God. You have no idea how much I want you."
Didn't I?
I guided him toward me, sliding him inside. My body opened to him, welcoming him like a piece of myself I'd been missing, and he moved in and out of me with long, controlled strokes, watching my face and gauging how each angle and motion affected me.
I'm buying time,I thought sagely, but as he pinned my wrists to the floor, claiming ownership of my body with each thrust, I knew I lied to myself. This was about more than just buying time to warn Jerome and Carter. This was about me. It was selfish. I had continuously craved Roman over the last few weeks, and now I had him. Not only that, but it was exactly as he had said: there was no survival here, only pleasure. I had had sex with other immortals before but not in some time. I had forgotten what it was like to not have someone else's thoughts in my head, to simply luxuriate in my own sensations.