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He pushed off the wall, stepped forward, and shoved the door closed with his heel. It fell shut with a thump that resounded in her bones.
CHAPTER 17
“Do we now?” Hazel bit her lip, a wicked glint in her eyes. “I distinctly remember that I finished.”
Tallak struggled to hold back his grin. That streak of mischief in her, it would undo him yet. When he’d first met her all those months ago, he would never have believed she could be this playful. Would never have thought there’d be so many layers to her, or that he’d want to peel them all back, one by one, to discover what lay beneath.
Holding his power tightly coiled within him, he took a measured step closer, yet again stalking her like elusive prey. Seemingly on instinct, she responded, backing up toward the kitchen island, keeping the same distance between them both. He could close that distance faster than she’d blink, of course, but where was the fun in that when he could first hunt her with slow precision, make her heart thump loud enough for him to hear, her blood rush faster through her veins? The greater the anticipation, the greater the reward.
“You,” he murmured, gliding closer, following her retreat with predatory grace, “have been very…” Step. “Very…” Step. “Bad.”
He’d maneuvered her between the kitchen island and the opposite counter. Her pulse thrummed like the loveliest beacon, and her eyes sparkled, a blush darkening her cheeks. Magic poured off her, her skin breathing power, and he wanted to lap it all up, get drunk on her.
She met his gaze with calculating innocence. “Me? Bad?” Laying a hand on her chest, she raised her brows. “Why, that’s impossible. I can’t even bring myself to jaywalk.”
Dammit, if he laughed now, she’d win. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He had a score to settle, for fuck’s sake. “You left me with that bloody hex still active.”
Obviously fighting a grin of her own, Hazel made as if to slide to the right between the kitchen island and the refrigerator when he prowled closer yet. He stopped her with his arm, palm flat against the fridge door. Half caging her in, he leaned down a bit, mere inches separating them.
“I have spent the past hours,” he murmured into the intimate space between their faces, “meowing like a fucking cat.” He took care to enunciate the swear word clearly, for her benefit.
A sound like a choked-back laugh came from Hazel, but when he examined her expression, she seemed perfectly guileless.
“Basil had a lot of fun with that.” He narrowed his eyes. “Me? Not so much.”
She pressed her lips tightly together, a flicker of mischief in her gaze. “Serves you right,” she whispered.
“What was that?” He tipped her head up with one finger under her chin.
The corners of her mouth twitched up. Leaning forward until their noses almost touched, she gave him a smoldering look from underneath her lashes. “Tit for tat.”
“Is that right?” he drawled.
“Mm-hmm.”
He tilted his head, his breath mingling with hers. “Know what I think? You didn’t hex me in retaliation. You wanted to be bad.”
“And why would I want that?”
“Because,” he murmured against her lips, “good girls get into heaven, and bad girls get…eaten.”
A shiver went through her energy, her magic quivering with an eager note.
He moved his mouth to her neck and nipped her there, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make her gasp. For a second, she arched against him, all pliable passion and barely restrained need. The next moment, she pushed him off her with a precise blow of magic. He grunted, coughed, and staggered back. She took advantage of his seconds-long incapacity to duck out of his hold and dash past him.
Dark delight fizzed inside him at her challenge. Now, there was a witch who wanted to be caught.
Blood afire with the thrill of the hunt, he gave chase. She’d made it halfway around the kitchen island when he simply leaped over the top and landed deftly right in front of her. Apparently unable to stop her momentum, she crashed into him, yelping in surprise. Before she could so much as catch her breath, he’d spun her around, her back to his front, his hands clasped over her wrists.
He lowered his head to her neck, breathed in her scent—all the more potent now that she’d run and was all worked up—and hummed against her skin. “That was quite wicked. Hitting me with your magic like that.” Still holding her tightly in his grasp, his nose still buried in her neck, he slowly steered her closer to the kitchen island. “I think I’ll add that to my growing list of things to make you pay for.”
She uttered a sound close to a whimper, but her scent…ah, the heavy fragrance of her arousal permeated the air, ratcheting up his own need. Pressing her close, he let her feel his hard cock against her lower back. She writhed in his grip, her energy a purr against his senses.
Now at the kitchen island, he smoothly lifted her up and pushed her front down on the counter with her legs dangling over the edge, while he held her arms behind her back now.
Hazel whipped her head to the side to give him a wide-eyed stare over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
He paused in hiking up her skirt with one hand while he secured her wrists with his other one. “I thought, since you were so impressed by my dexterity with the peach, I’d give you a reminder of what my tongue feels like on your pussy.”
