Page 37 of The Assassin and the Libertine
“Oh,mon Dieu! Don’t fuss, Étienne. I’ve had worse before, I assure you.” I batted his hands away and straightened my cloak.
“So you’ve said,” he retorted, his voice dark and vaguely threatening.
“I’m fine,” I insisted. “We can continue.”
Suddenly, he turned me until my back was pressed against the wall of the alley. I gasped in surprise. I could feel the hardness of his muscles beneath the velvet of his clothes and my desire ignited instinctively. Gently, he tipped my chin up and I could just see the outline of his face in the moonlight.
“You are not indestructible, Duchesse,” he whispered, his mouth inches from mine.
“Neither are you,” I breathed. Conscious thought fled. The chill of the night air, the low temperature of his body, his clean, fresh smell—if I closed my eyes, it was like I was standing in a snow-blanketed forest. I didn’t feel cold, though. My body blazed with heat.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I was setting my lips to his. Beneath my kiss, I felt him smile. Unlike the assertive ardor from earlier, his touch was tender and languid. His tongue played slowly against my lips until I parted for him. I stroked against him, tasting the metallic tang of blood. I pulled back, my breath coming in ragged pants.
“You’re bleeding.”
He traced delicate kisses across my cheek and my jaw, lingering at my ear. He tugged at my earlobe, sucking at it gingerly. My nipples tightened and desire spiraled through me to my core. I whimpered at the delicious torment.
“Shall I stop?” His words were punctuated with little licks along the outer edge of my ear.
“Bleeding? Yes, if you have the power to command that sort of thing.”
A throaty chuckle escaped him, and he leaned his forehead against mine.Perhaps it was the waning aggression from the fight, but I realized with a jolt that I wanted him rather badly. I found myself cursing my earlier reluctance in my chamber.He was naked before you, and you cruelly rejected him. Why? What are you so afraid of, Daphne?
Losing him,came the reply. I pushed it aside.
“Should we continue?”
“Yes,” I moaned, tilting up to meet him again. His breath caught and his tone became pleading.
“No, Daphne, I meant we should continue to theRue des Oubliés.”
I froze.
“… Ah. Yes, of course.”
I tried to pull away, stung by his words and embarrassed by my own behavior.Idiot!
“Damn it, Daphne, wait. Stop. This isnota rejection. You must know that. You must know how desperately I want you. I cannot eventhinkwithout wanting you.” He pressed his hips into me, and I felt the hard length of his arousal. I stifled a groan at the thought of him sliding into me.
“You see? I would give anything to have you. But not here—not like this. We are running out of time.” He reached up to stroke my cheek and I looked up.
Merde.He was right. The pitch blackness of the sky had already begun to lighten to a deep sapphire. Dawn was coming. We needed to hurry.
I offered him a chagrinned smile.
“Allons-y!”
We took off at a rapid clip, closing the distance to the street we sought. Nearing it, a chill ran up my spine. The drunk had been right. There was somethingoffabout this part of the neighborhood. Our steps slowed as we approached.
“This is it,” I said. “How far down is the address?”
“Not far,” he replied, gripping his walking stick more tightly.
A thick silence blanketed us as we walked down the street. We saw no light from beyond and heard nothing but the sounds of our footsteps and our anxious breaths. Even the air seemed stagnant—like it, too, waited for something malevolent.
Étienne stopped before a storefront with a boarded-up door and broken windows. I squinted up at the sign above the door but couldn’t make it out in the gloom.
“It’s a bookshop,” he offered. He lifted his nose in the air and inhaled.
