Mated…
The word whispered through her, stirring emotions that she’d kept buried deep inside her. For so long she’d endured the knowledge that her devotion to this vampire was futile. He would never see her as more than an adversary. One that he would use as a necessary source of blood, but otherwise keep at a firm distance.
It was overwhelming to contemplate a future where they were forever bound together.
“I don’t have to consider,” she murmured, her hands lowering to deal with the fastening of his trousers. “I’ve belonged to you from the first moment I entered this prison.”
He growled in pleasure, gently brushing aside her hands so he could finish removing his clothing with far more skill than she was able to. Once he was naked, however, she pressed her hands against his shoulder before he could close the distance between them.
She wanted an opportunity to admire his pale skin stretched over chiseled muscles. And the glorious tattoo. Not to mention the large, growingly thick erection. That was a sight that deserved to be savored.
With a breathless pleasure, she used the tips of her fingers to explore the hard planes of his chest. He had no heartbeat, but she felt him tremble beneath her touch. He liked that.
So did she.
His skin was cold and smooth as silk. An intoxicatingly erotic combination.
She allowed her fingers to drift lower, strumming over the six-pack abs before they were wrapping around his arousal. Tarak grunted, sounding as if he’d just been kicked. Or perhaps it was the sheer power of her touch.
The thought made her glow inside.
Clutching her hand tight around his erection, she pushed her fingers down, thoroughly enjoying the tortured expression that twisted his features. After spending five hundred years at the mercy of her emotions, she liked giving a little payback.
But even as she began to pull her fingers back up his hard length, Tarak pressed himself tight against her. Clearly he was interested in something a little more up close and personal.
A choice that had its benefits, she realized at the sensation of his hard body rubbing against hers, creating a delicious friction. Her lips parted on a sigh. It was all the invitation Tarak needed as he captured them in a rough, demanding kiss.
Her arms instinctively circled his waist, her hands stroking up the curve of his back.
Tarak shuddered. “I’m hungry for you, Waverly,” he whispered, his fingers smoothing down her hip and then around to her inner thigh. At last he found the aching spot between her legs. “All of you.”
Waverly tilted her head to the side, her gaze watching in fascination as his fangs lengthened. It was a stark reminder that he was a predator who could rip out her throat if he wanted.
Still, it wasn’t fear that made her tremble.
No, it was sheer, mind-numbing lust.
As if sensing the swelling need, Tarak allowed his finger to dip into her body. At the same time, his thumb pressed against a perfect, glorious spot. Waverly arched toward him, her heart thundering as his finger stroked in and out, deeper and deeper. It felt like there was a whirlpool about to suck her under.
She released a shaky breath. This was amazing, but she wanted more—his fangs buried deep in her neck, and his erection buried deep inside her…
“Tarak,” she moaned softly, threading her fingers through his hair and tugging his face against her neck. “Drink.”
* * * *
Tarak released a low groan, pushing away the pang of regret that he’d wasted so many years clinging to bitterness. He wasn’t going to spend one more second brooding on the past.
Not when he finally had Waverly exactly where he wanted her.
Forgetting Riven, and the fact they were stuck in a prison, Tarak bared his fangs and with one smooth strike had them buried deep into her neck.
Waverly’s breath hissed through her clenched teeth, her nails drawing blood as they pressed into his flesh. Tarak didn’t mind. A bit of pain only intensified the pleasure.
Feeling as if he was drowning, Tarak savored the sweet and salty blood as it ran down his throat. It was delicious, but it wasn’t enough. With a groan he smoothed his hands down the back of her legs, then, with one smooth motion, lifted her off her feet.
She made a sound of satisfaction, enthusiastically wrapping her legs around his waist.
Tarak pulled his fangs out of her throat before he lifted his head. He wanted to watch her expression as he slowly, steadily angled her onto his erection.
They sighed in unison as her tender flesh parted to allow his penetration. Already Tarak could feel the primitive magic coursing through his body.
This wasn’t sex.
This was the mating.
The ground beneath his feet seemed to shift as he relished the sense of Waverly deep in his soul. He felt her pleasure as he began to rock his hips back and forth, plunging his arousal as deep as he could go. And the raw emotions that he’d used as a weapon against her.
He’d sworn the moment he was betrayed that nothing would be more important than his fierce need for revenge.
Now he understood he’d been a fool.
Waverly was all that mattered.
All that would ever matter.
Waverly made a tiny sound of pleasure and Tarak’s control shattered. Five hundred years of hunger was flooding through his body. It was going to be a few decades before he could take things slow and easy.
Whirling around he placed his own back against the wall. He didn’t want to risk scraping her tender skin. Then he slid his fangs back into her neck as his hips thrust in a steady rhythm.
“More,” she rasped softly, her head lowering so she could press her teeth against his shoulder.
“Bite,” Tarak commanded, shuddering as she obediently pierced his skin.
Tarak lifted his hand to press against the back of her head, urging her to drink the blood to complete the mating ceremony.
As she greedily sucked on the wound, an incandescent bliss exploded through him. This was the only magic a vampire could experience.
And it was magnificent.
Withdrawing his fangs, he licked the last drop of blood from her neck as he felt her climax clench around his erection. The sensation sent him spinning into his own orgasm.
A savage ecstasy engulfed him, nearly sending him to his knees.
He’d spent what felt like an eternity in this prison, desperate to escape. Now he knew he could quite happily spend the rest of his life in this precise spot.
As long as he was here with Waverly.
As the last of the rapturous tremors vanished, Tarak slowly lowered Waverly to the ground. He hated having her lying on the hard stone, but there wasn’t any choice. Not now. Putting Waverly’s discomfort on the very long list of ‘reasons to kill Riven’ Tarak stretched out next to her. A smile curved his lips as he watched her lightly trace the crimson tattoo that spread up her inner forearm. It was the mating mark. His gaze moved toward the matching mark on his own arm.
A joy that was laced with a large amount of awe spread through Tarak at the intricate crimson scrolls. He’d devoted himself for so long to creating peace for the vampires. An admirable goal, but hardly one that had offered him personal pleasure.
Now he felt almost overwhelmed by the maelstrom of emotions that churned through him.
It wasn’t just the lingering pleasure that made his limbs heavy with sated desire. Or the fierce satisfaction of knowing this female was now his for an eternity.
It was the sheer delight of sensing her nestled deep inside him. As if two halves had joined to become one perfect being.
Before meeting Waverly he would have scoffed at such romantic tripe. Who needed a mate? He was satisfied with his existence without the demands of a female who would be in constant need of attention.
What a spectacular idiot he�
��d been.
This exhilaration that was filling his soul was magical. As if he’d just been offered a place in paradise. At the same time, he felt an enormous pressure settle around him. It was the knowledge that he now had to care for his precious treasure.
His life’s mission was now to ensure she was safe, and happy, and that she possessed everything she might need.
All admirable ambitions. And completely impossible at the moment. How could she be safe or happy or have anything she might need when they were trapped in this damned prison? Frustration bubbled through him, threatening to destroy his euphoria.
Beside him, he could feel Waverly begin to stiffen, easily sensing his darkening mood. With a grim effort, he forced away his anxiety.
Right now all he wanted to think about was his new mate.
He gently brushed the hair from her cheek, cherishing the dewy warmth of her skin. “Tell me about your childhood.”
She blinked, clearly caught off guard by his demand. “What do you want to know?”
“Were you happy?”
She paused before giving a slow nod. “There was always a hole in my heart at the loss of my mother, of course, but I was happy,” she assured him. “The mer-folk are a very close-knit species. Probably because there are so few of us. I knew I was loved.”
“I can believe that.” His fingers stroked over the tip of her ear, just now realizing they were faintly pointed. An indicator that mermaids had fey blood. “I assume you were the pampered princess?” he teased.
“No.” She gave an emphatic shake of her head. “That was Sabrina.”
It took a second for him to recall the name. “Your sister?”
“Yes.”
He rolled onto his side, gazing down at her with a genuine curiosity. “Why was she pampered?”
“Because she deserved to be,” she answered in a firm tone. “She was always sweet and kind to everyone. The perfect nurturer.” A wistful smile touched her lips. “Looking back, I wonder if she felt compelled to take on that role after the death of my mother.”
“Why?”
“Before her death, my mother was responsible for the magic that protects the nursery.”
Tarak could tangibly feel the sadness that tugged at her heart.
“Your sister inherited the gift after your mother died?”
“I assume it had been dormant inside her since she was born.” She pressed her face against his hand, as if seeking his comfort. “And once it was needed, it appeared. She claimed that it was a blessing.”
He brushed a gentle kiss over her forehead. “You don’t think it was?”
“Perhaps, but it was also a burden that fell on her shoulders at a very early age.” Her gaze became distracted, as if she was becoming lost in her memories. “Unlike me, she had to put away her childhood and assume her duties.”
His fingers traced the line of her jaw. “Ah. That’s the reason you’ve been so desperate to find her,” he murmured. “You feel guilty that she was forced to take on the role of an adult while you could remain a child.”
Her brows snapped together. “I was desperate because I love my sister and because I’m terrified that something might happen to the children.”
“And?” he prompted.
She heaved a rueful sigh, perhaps just now sorting through the tangle of emotions that’d inundated her after her sister had been taken captive.
“And I suppose there’s some guilt,” she slowly admitted. “And if I’m forced to be completely honest, a little bit of envy as well.”
She managed to catch him off guard. “Envy?”
“She had a purpose in her life. A glorious purpose that ensured she was deeply admired by everyone. While I…” Her words trailed away, her expression suddenly hardening with regret. “While I stood by my father’s side and smiled.”
Tarak was puzzled by her reaction. “Did you wish you had your sister’s magic?”
“No, as I said, she had an instinctive urge to nurture others.” She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t.”
“What did you want to do?”
She hesitated, a hint of wariness darkening her eyes. “You’ll laugh.”
His lips twitched. He wasn’t going to start off their mating with a lie. Not when she could sense it.
“Perhaps,” he admitted. “Tell me.”
“I wanted to be a warrior.”
He studied her with confusion. He’d expected her to say something silly. Like she wanted to be a jellyfish.
“Why would I laugh?” he asked. “Aren’t mermaids allowed to be warriors?”
“Usually, but my father’s obsession with protecting me meant he wouldn’t even discuss allowing me to become one of his guards.” She scowled as she watched his smile widen. “I knew you would find it funny.”
He tapped the end of her nose with his finger. “I don’t find your dreams funny,” he assured her. “I’m smiling at your claim that you didn’t become a warrior.”
“I didn’t.”
“You’ve been battling against Riven since he stole the throne.”
Her lashes lowered, no doubt hoping to hide her pain at his words.
“I wish that was true,” she muttered, her tone bitter. “I’ve been a coward. My father was right not to allow me to pick up the trident.”
He cupped his hand beneath her chin and tilted her head back. “Waverly, look at me.”
“Please don’t tease about this, Tarak,” she implored in a raw voice.
Tarak jerked in astonishment. This wasn’t just a false modesty. She truly didn’t realize just how amazing she truly had been.
“I’m not teasing. Look at me, Waverly.” He waited until her lashes slowly lifted to reveal the beauty of her aquamarine eyes. “If I’ve learned nothing else, it’s that rushing into danger and waving a sword or trident makes you an idiot, not a warrior.”
“I did nothing,” she protested.
His fingers tightened on her chin. “You obeyed Riven’s demands to keep your sister alive and ensured that I had enough strength to escape when the opportunity arrived,” he reminded her. “It’s not your fault I was too stubborn to listen to your warnings.”
She shook her head. “I wanted to do more.”
“Trust me, sometimes the bravest thing you can do is wait.”
His tone was harsh with his own sense of failure. If he’d simply agreed with the Anasso’s bargain when he’d found him in the secret tunnel, he would have been free to walk away. Later he could have spread the truth about the ancient vampire’s addiction. But no. He had to be filled with self-righteous anger, refusing to back down.
She brushed a hand over the dragon tattooed on his chest, no doubt sensing his remorse. “I hate feeling helpless.”
He’d known this female for five hundred years, but he’d been blind to the fact that she was as much a prisoner as himself. And that she’d been seething with the same desire to destroy Riven.
Blind about so many things.
“Your greatest weapons are here.” He lightly touched her forehead, indicating her clever brain. “And here.” He touched the center of her chest, feeling the leap of her heart beneath his finger. “Use them wisely.”
She looked like she wanted to protest, then she heaved a resigned sigh. “Fine, but I want a trident when we finally get out of here.”
He chuckled at her petulant tone. “Did you play with one when you were a little guppy?”
“Maybe.”
“I can see you dashing through the castle with a trident twice your size.”
“I also had a helmet I stole from the armory. It was way too big, and it kept slipping over my eyes when I made my charge.”
Tarak stilled. This female was always beautiful to him, but with the mischievous amusement sparkling in her eyes, she was breathtaking.
At least if he had any breath to take.
“That could be a problem.”
“It was.” She offered a wise nod. “One day I was attacking a pile of pillows I’d stacked in a corner and I accidentally stabbed my dance instructor who’d come into the room.”
He tilted back his head to laugh with a rich enjoyment he hadn’t felt in far too long. It was all too easy to imagine a young Waverly wearing an oversized helmet, and with a trident clutched in her hand as she dashed toward the dastardly pile of pillows. She probably even had her own war cry.
“What happened?” he asked.
Her amusement dimmed. “My father took away my weapons and gave me the position of his royal advisor. He assumed that would keep me out of trouble.”
He allowed his fingers to drift down her throat. He understood her frustration, but he also sympathized with her father. The male had lost his mate. How could he possibly bear to lose his children?
“Did it keep you out of trouble?”
“No.” She suddenly looked smug. “But I never got caught again.”
Chapter 14
Waverly swallowed a groan at the sensation of Tarak’s fingers lightly brushing over the very spot where he’d sunk his fangs deep into her flesh. There was no pain, but the skin remained acutely sensitive. As if Tarak’s bite had created a new erogenous zone.
The thought sent a shiver through her as she traced the edge of the tattoo that was spread across his chest. It was going to take time to accept this glorious creature was truly her mate.
Maybe a few thousand years or so.
“Tell me about your clan before you joined with the Anasso,” she urged.
His eyes softened. They always did when he spoke of the vampires he’d gathered during his years as a clan chief. As if they were a special part of his life. Perhaps a part he’d forgotten after he’d pledged himself to his Anasso.
“It was smaller than most,” he said. “Chiron used to call us the Band of Misfits.”
She arched her brows. Tarak might be stubborn, aggravating, and occasionally a pain in the neck—in more ways than one. But she would never consider him a misfit.
Beware the Darkness Page 15