‘Oh for goodness’ sake!’ I said, without thinking. ‘What is it with you Sidhe and ghosts? The Bull thought I was a bloody ghost, too. I thought you were smarter than that.’

Something changed in Byron’s eyes. All at once he released me, dropping the Telekinesis that had been holding me in place. Before I fell to the ground, however, he grabbed me, wrapped his arms round and pulled me to him. His hand cupped my face and his thumb stroked my skin while he gazed into my eyes. ‘You’re alive,’ he said simply.

I opened my mouth to reply but he didn’t give me the chance. His lips descended, pressing into mine with hot urgency and a demanding possessiveness that was almost painful. We stumbled backwards until I was pressed against the wall. Byron ran his hands down my body. His legs pinned me in place while he explored every clothed part of me, as if double-checking that I really did exist. All the time, his mouth didn’t leave mine. The air was being pushed out of my lungs but, despite the violent embrace, I didn’t want him to stop. He couldn’t ever stop. Then, whether by accident or design, he bit my bottom lip.

I yanked my head away, my yell of pain loud and sharp. Now it wasn’t just Byron I could taste in my mouth. There was also the bitter tang of blood.

He drew back, panting, and giving us both the breathing space we needed. My tongue darted out to the tiny cut while Byron’s green eyes followed the movement. He closed his eyes briefly as if in agony, his fists curling and uncurling as he calmed himself. I reached out and touched his jaw and he relaxed.

Rather than apologise, he tilted his head and planted a soft kiss on the wound. He gently brushed my hair away from my face before starting to trail butterfly kisses from my temple down to my neck. On the way he pulled back – once, twice, three times. Every time, he stared hard at me, as if checking it was still me. Every time it just made the ache inside me grow. Neither of us spoke because neither of us needed to; we were saying all we needed to without a single word.

More carefully now, he helped me out of my jacket and tossed it to one side. He lifted my hand and stroked upwards towards my shoulder with the lightest of touches. I couldn’t stop myself from shivering. His fingers danced across my collarbone and then down my other arm before venturing to my waist where they twitched at the hem of my T-shirt. Together, we pulled it over my head. As soon as it was out of the way, his stroking began again, feather-light movements down my chest. I groaned. He brushed against the lace of my bra then swept further down over my belly. Then he crouched down and I felt his hot breath against my skin as, instead of his fingers, he used his tongue. When he reached my belly button, he circled it exquisitely slowly.