Free Guilty as Sin by Denise Rossetti

score—those he owed, those who owed
    him. It was the way the world worked, the way he knew where he stood, a system of
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    checks and balances. It was how things were finished , so a man could move on. Two
    interminable years it had taken him to collect on the debt for Tannio, but once it was
    done, he ‟ d been free. Except for the dreams.
    A preemptive strike was what he needed. Hmm, but how?
    A naked blade in his hand, he turned into a tunnel so narrow his shoulders brushed
    the slimy walls. Straining, he fixed his eyes on the corpse-pale circle of light up ahead
    and trudged on.
    He thought of those luminous gray eyes flashing in the shadows of the Prince ‟ s
    Grand Ballroom, the drumming of her pulse beneath his fingertips as he pressed her
    into the wall, the flicker of a tail tip against the inside of his thigh. Gods yes, she ‟ d
    reacted to his touch. She ‟ d tamped down the instinctive response, suppressed it, but
    he ‟ d known too many women to miss that feminine vulnerability.
    Liseriel wouldn ‟ t be so cool and elegant, so matter-of-fact, when he was sunk balls-
    deep inside her, those endless legs over his shoulders. Sheathing his dagger, he spread
    both hands over his chest. The featherpearls were cool now, smooth and hard in the
    center of his palms. Deliberately, he rolled them a little, enough to make him hiss with
    pleasure. The reek of the sewers had bludgeoned his olfactory nerves into a stupor, but
    nonetheless, he set himself to recall the wild green scent of her, building the image piece
    by piece. Mmm.
    His breath quickened as he splashed through a shallow puddle. What would he
    find when he opened her legs and licked up inside her? How would she feel against his
    balls as he shoved himself deep? Soft as down or springy with a sweet brush of curls?
    Michael adjusted himself in his trews, his smile broadening to a fellwolf grin. Ah
    gods, why stop there? She was so law-abiding, so—his lip curled—so respectable. If he
    was careful and clever, he could teach her every perversion he knew and have her on
    her knees begging for more. Hmm. He recalled her level gaze, the cool intelligence and
    cynicism of it. No, it wouldn ‟ t be easy. Arrogant, his enemies called him, and with good
    reason, but all his risks were carefully calculated.
    Reconnaissance would be the key. He wouldn ‟ t rush it.
    When he was finished, when he ‟ d taken his pleasure, the ledgers balanced and his
    reputation restored, he ‟ d tell her why he ‟ d done it and watch her face. Sweet.
    A rat ran over his foot and he leaped back with something perilously close to a
    scream. Fuck! When he swallowed, his mouth tasted vile. Gods, he was thirsty.
    Oh yes, settling the score with Liseriel the Gray was going to be one of the
    highlights of his career.
    He huffed out a silent laugh. As a bonus, seducing her would put a delightful kink
    in Dax ‟ s tail. Because he wanted her, the big lump, that had been abundantly clear.
    Scrambling over a half-broken wall, he wriggled forward until he could peer out a
    grate. The shadows had lengthened, the street shrouded by dusk. Scowling, Michael
    followed a narrow, upward-sloping passage, emerging between a privy and a rubbish
    heap in the backyard of a tumbledown tavern. He slinked down the alley, keeping to
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    the shadows. Fuck Ma and her buckets, he wasn ‟ t far from Bubba ‟ s Bath House. So
    what if it cost him good coin to clean up? Dax could owe him.
    Michael replayed their encounter, from the first buffet of the mighty wings to the
    surprisingly soft lips against his own. Killing the man out of hand hardly seemed fair.
    Judging by the way Lise had spoken to him, he was a subordinate of some kind.
    Nonetheless, Lise was Dax ‟ s weakness. Hmm. That gave him a place to set a lever,
    but what else?
    A beggar woman sniffed and spat as she brushed by him in the narrow street.
    Michael snarled his reply.
    Since earliest childhood, his life had depended on lightning