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seemed to be going back under, he gave her shoulder a gentle shake.
    Her blond brows drew together. “Wóden and Freya struck my mother with lightning to bring her back to life. I was in the lightning. The three are my parents.”
    No, she’s definitely delirious.
    â€œMyst was born of Wóden, Freya, and a human Pict.”
    Picts? They’d lived centuries ago. “How old are you?”
    â€œTwo thousand or so.”
    â€œTwo thousand .”
    â€œÂ â€™m a Pisces.”
    â€œI see. Why did you want to know whether Myst was with Kristoff or Nikolai?”
    She softly answered, “Myst likes Nikolai. If he’s nice tonight, he’s going to be plus-one with a Valkyrie.”
    â€œNice tonight?” he repeated. Murdoch suspected his brother would be many things with Myst. Nice was not among the possibilities. Feeling an unaccountable flare of guilt, he traced to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water for Daniela. He lifted it to her lips, but she turned her head away.
    â€œDon’t drink.”
    â€œIt’s just water.”
    â€œDon’t drink anything.”
    â€œI suppose you don’t eat either.”
    â€œUn-unh.”
    If any of this was true . . . . He needed to talk to Nikolai—
    â€œMurdoch?” Her eyes were open once more, and they were focused on his mouth. “You have the most kissable lips I’ve ever seen.”
    He swallowed. “And would you like to kiss me? If you could?”
    â€œIf I started . . . I don’t think I’d ever stop.” Her words were throaty, so damned enticing. She wasn’t a warrior, she was a temptress .
    And a lesser man could get snared if he wasn’t careful.
    Her lids slid closed again. She seemed to be in that delirious state where the mind didn’t want to cede to oblivion.
    She eased her arm over her head, those sexy bracelets clanking, and the damp locks covering her chest fell away, revealing her perfect breasts.
    They were little, but high and so plump that he ached to sink his fangs into one. Instead, he dug a fang into his bottom lip. He imagined the blood seeping on his tongue was hers.
    He pictured how her breasts would bounce as he fucked her.
    These lustful thoughts were so unfamiliar, so futile. She would never be beneath him. He angrily palmed his erection behind his jeans, which he knew was a risk, because the worse his arousal grew, the worse itwould stay—if he couldn’t get her to relieve him of it.
    Just this once, he would need her to break the seal. Then he could go on his way, satisfying himself with others.
    In his human life, he’d had women falling all over themselves to attract his notice. Whenever he hadn’t been on the battlefield, he’d been cradled between a woman’s thighs, and had grown notorious for his skills in bed. But if none of the tricks he’d learned would work on Daniela, then how could he seduce her to ease him of this burden—
    â€œMurdoch,” she sleepily sighed, “my panties are wet.”
    A shaky exhalation of breath. “Are they, then?” Had his voice broken?
    She wriggled her hips as if she wanted them off her. With a hard swallow, he reached forward and dragged the scrap of lace down, revealing silky blond curls. Another groan, another coarse swipe over his shaft.
    Too much temptation. He was about to fall on her, to mount the soft body naked before him.
    Three centuries he’d been denied this. His fangs were throbbing along with his cock. He wanted to bury anything he could inside her.
    With a sharp shake of his head, he snatched up a sheet to toss over her. When it glided across her nipples, they budded against it. He studied the ceiling, desperate not to see the way her nipples strained into the material. Then he sank into the room’s one chair, but just as abruptly shot to his feet to pace again. He itched to stroke her, to explore the dream woman in