“Lucifer’s hammering hard-on, now that was a real shag.”

His voice broke through my near-paralyzing afterglow. I looked down at him . . . and gasped. His body was covered in red streaks that could only be blood trails from my nails. But that wasn’t what had made me suck in a stunned breath. It was the floor. It hadn’t just dented beneath the full frenzy of our passion. In some places, I could actually see all the way through to the dance floor below.

“I am so—” I began, only to have his laughter cut me off.

“If you’re about to apologize again, stop. Only a fool would think I’d change anything, and you are no fool.”

That was debatable, but now wasn’t the time. I started to get off him so he wasn’t in danger of falling through if the wrong support beam snapped, but his hands landed on my waist.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I gestured at the obvious. “Getting us out of a hole.”

“Allow me,” he said, his hands tightening on my hips while he used his power to fly us straight up. Then he flipped in midair until I was staring up at him instead of down. He was still inside me, still hard, and my eyes widened as those aerial tricks caused new thrusts that didn’t feel accidental.

“Didn’t you finish?” I’d thought so, but to say I’d been preoccupied would be an understatement.

His grin was accompanied by a twist of his hips that was absolutely no accident. “Do you mean, did I come? Yes. But I’m not nearly finished, little Guardian. Right now, I intend to lose all my control with you, so as you said during our first fight”—a deep thrust bent my spine with bliss—“my turn.”

He’d been restraining himself? Then I couldn’t wait to find out what he’d be like now. “In that case, like you told me back then . . . come and get me.”

Hours later, Ian came into the VIP room, dropping the drape that served as his only clothing. “Club is closed for the night, the last employee went home, the police are gone and the restoration company won’t return until tomorrow.”

“Good,” I said, glad that I was incapable of blushing.

Ian had mesmerized the employees into neither seeing nor hearing us, but that hadn’t stopped them from attempting to investigate why the club’s walls, floors, and furnishings were being destroyed in the VIP section. They’d even called the police and a construction restoration company in an attempt to mitigate the damage. I might have been willing to ignore a few oblivious employees during the height of our passion, but a few employees, an emergency restoration services crew, and a few police officers? No.

Ian had dealt with all of that, after bringing me to the most incredible orgasm of my life. I could have helped him erase memories and herd our audience out, except I’d been too busy reeling from the aftereffects. Now, the club was empty of everyone except him, me, and Silver, who was currently perched on one of the club’s ceiling beams. I tried not to wonder how long the Simargl had been there. It was embarrassing enough to realize that—for a time—I’d ignored an audience of people without adding my new pet to that voyeuristic mix.

I was now lying on two of the remaining unbroken couches. I’d pushed them together until they formed a serviceable, if narrow, bed. My covers were more of the room’s drapes. The deep red fabric rustled as Ian finally joined me. His light kiss on the top of my head shouldn’t have made me feel warmer, but it did, as did the arm he slipped around me to pull me closer.

“What time is it?”

I didn’t really care, but the question was a buffer from the very unfamiliar feelings swirling inside me. I couldn’t decide which was more disconcerting; the thought that he’d goaded me into briefly having sex in front of several strangers, or the thought of how much I hadn’t cared at the time. Was I actually an exhibitionist beneath all my hard-won control? Or was his command of my body and emotions so strong, he’d made me one despite myself?

“A little after midnight,” he replied, shifting until he faced me. I found that I wasn’t ready to look him in the eye, so I promptly closed mine as if I were tired.

I must not have been convincing, since his chest began to vibrate from laughter. “Shields up at full force, I see.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, opening my eyes because I had no other choice now.

His fingers traced my collarbone. “Your whole life, you’ve hidden what you are, right down to the silver glow in your eyes and the waiflike appearance you glamour yourself with. Yes, I realized this was your true appearance when you rose from the ashes wearing it. So, in a very short period of time, you’ve revealed your true looks, your real scent, your lineage, your powers and now, your passion. You’re feeling exposed, so it’s understandable that you’re trying to emotionally cover up again.”

I flinched at his dead-on accuracy. With a sardonic smile, he turned me into spooning position and then pulled me back against his chest. Now, his too-knowing gaze was out of view.

“Better?”

I didn’t respond even if an inner knot of tenseness did ease. Yes, not having to look at him helped, but it didn’t compare with everything else. He was right; I felt supremely exposed. If I wasn’t so physically sated, I might have even gotten up and gone for a walk in an attempt to regroup.

He sighed as if he could feel my continuing struggle. “Would it help if I told you one of my deep, dark secrets?”

“Yes,” I said at once. I knew so little about him, and here he knew more about me than anyone had in centuries.

His laughter tickled the back of my neck. “Very well, here is something only Mencheres knows about me: My real name isn’t Ian.”

Chapter 27

That shocked me into sitting up. “What?” Had absolutely nothing been right in his dossier?

“It’s true. Not even my best mates know it. They met me as Ian when we were convicts on our way to the New South Wales penal colonies. I was too seasick to tell them that wasn’t my real name. Would have died from dehydration on that voyage, too, had Crispin not shared his meager food and water with me, then browbeat Charles and Timothy into doing the same.”

“So that’s why you hate boats,” I murmured, remembering his comment at the private airport back in Poland.

“Oh, indeed. No one celebrated the invention of flight more than me. With planes available for intercontinental travel, I never had to set foot on a heaving ship again.”

I’d already told him too much, but for some reason, I revealed something else. “I’m afraid of fire,” I confessed. “That’s why I felt the same about the invention of electricity. But if your name isn’t Ian, why did everyone think it was?”

A pensive tone entered his voice. “In seventeen eighty-eight London, Ian Maynard murdered a prostitute and was sentenced to twenty years’ hard labor in the Australian penal colonies. But Ian never set foot on the Alexander. I was switched for him the night before the prisoners were shipped out.”

“Why? And how did they get away with such a switch?”

“Greed.” His tone was nonchalant, but his scent soured. “Ian’s father bribed the guards to ensure my protestations fell on deaf ears. Can’t blame them. The guards’ choices were facing a rich man’s wrath for speaking out or pocketing a goodly sum for staying quiet. They made the wise choice.”