The Hunter's Affection (Bloodwite Book 3)

by Cecelia Mecca

  She’d seen how fast he could be. Shouldn’t he have kept up? Or overtaken her?

  A gasp escaped her as a strong hand grasped her wrist from behind, warm and wonderful and so very strong. Torr tugged her up the stairs.

  If Monday night had been a frenzy of lust and passion, Charlotte had no words to describe the scene when she finally stopped fumbling with her key and got the door unlocked.

  Something was thrown to the floor with every step they took toward the bedroom. Her purse. Their shirts. His shoes. By the time they reached the entrance to her bedroom, the orderly apartment looked like it had been hit by a cyclone and both she and Torr were without a stitch of clothing.

  His hardness jolted against her, and Charlotte couldn’t resist the urge to break away and look at him. She wanted to see all of him.

  “Holy sweet Jesus.”

  That time, she’d said it aloud.

  “Keep looking at me like that, and I can’t guarantee the extended foreplay I intended.”

  “Maybe tearing each other’s clothes off after running to my apartment could be considered foreplay?”

  Charlotte felt as if she were free to say, or do, anything with him. A first for her. She couldn’t imagine “outrageous” existed in his lexicon.

  It was glorious, and so very freeing.

  “I hope that smile’s in anticipation of what’s to come.”

  Edging her toward the bed, he urged her down and followed close behind. Suddenly, he was everywhere. His hands on her breast, cupping and teasing. His mouth pressed to hers, his tongue delving deep as one hand moved between her legs, presumably to feel if she was ready for him.

  So ready.

  “I’m going to fuck you, princess,” he whispered in her ear. “Not once. Or even twice. And every single damned time I promise it will be good for you.”

  She swallowed as he removed his fingers from her and positioned his hands on both sides of her head.

  “I’m not—”

  “Oh yes, you are. Tonight, you are mine. My princess.”

  She didn’t argue.

  “Did Alessandra or Toni tell you what to expect?”

  If he meant that a condom wasn’t necessary—vampires couldn’t carry disease or impregnate a woman, at least not unless it was a full moon—then yes, she knew what to expect.

  Charlotte nodded.

  “Good.”

  With that, he slid inside her, inch by glorious inch.

  Charlotte tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and waited until he was fully seated inside her. And then resumed the frenzied pace they’d set earlier. Still, she could sense his strength, and that wouldn’t do.

  “I’m not as delicate as you think.”

  He pumped into her just a slight bit harder.

  Charlotte held on to his shoulders, trying to make sense of the all-encompassing pleasure he was giving her. It was as if every nerve ending on her body had been electrified, almost to the point of pain. Like an orgasm you couldn’t pull away from. And she wasn’t even close to coming yet.

  At least, she didn’t think so, but the way he moved his hips . . .

  “All of you,” she heard herself say. “Show me . . . all of you.”

  She wasn’t even sure what she meant. His power? His strength? The fangs he bared as he drove into her harder and harder, his hips circling expertly.

  That did it.

  Screaming, just a little, she allowed herself the most glorious of all releases, distantly hearing the sound of his own groans as she gripped and clawed her way back to reality.

  It was only after her heartbeat returned to a somewhat normal pace that she realized Torr lay next to her.

  “You’re not even remotely out of breath,” she noticed.

  But that wasn’t all she noticed. Now that the urgency of their first coupling had abated—slightly—Charlotte had a chance to fully appreciate the man who lay beside her.

  And there was a lot to appreciate.

  “No, I’m not.”

  He said it with the kind of arrogant self-assurance one could only develop after centuries of life. Even the most confident of people she’d met—and Charlotte knew many from her years as a Southern debutante—did not come close to Torr. Or his siblings, or Kenton for that matter. Now that she knew, Charlotte felt like a complete idiot for not having realized something was different about him earlier.

  “In a lot of ways,” she said, turning on her side without a hint of embarrassment. “You’re really no different than most men.”

  Replicating her position, Torr leaned his head on his hand.

  “Is that so?”

  He sounded almost . . . affronted. Smiling, Charlotte tried to explain. “Well, you are completely different in others, of course.”

  “Such as?”

  “Torr Derrickson, are you fishing for compliments?”

  “I am.”

  “And completely unrepentant!”

  “That too.”

  “Are you ever serious?”

  Pulling her on top of him, he tried to make a straight face.

  “I can be. In fact . . .” He kissed the side of her mouth, the other side, and then the very tip of her nose. “I can be whoever you want me to be, Charlotte Harris.”

  She propped herself on his chest with her elbows.

  “Honestly?” she asked.

  “Honestly.”

  “I want you to be yourself. Just. You. Whoever that is. Think you can do that?”

  When he licked his lips, she could tell it was out of nerves. He’d long since retracted his fangs and looked pretty much like any regular mega-hot guy.

  But he wasn’t. Not really. Alessandra was right—he’d had centuries to refine the games he played. But her friend had missed another essential truth about this man. He’d also had centuries to hide from himself.

  “Well?” she pressed.

  He pulled her down for the sweetest kiss she’d ever experienced. Slow. Soft. Full of emotion, although she wasn’t sure exactly what that emotion was at the moment. His tongue searched for hers, but sweetly, almost tentatively.

  When he released her, he trained those liquid green eyes on her and said, “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “To be honest, Charlotte. I’m no longer sure if I know who that person is.”

  He was being serious.

  “Well, then”—she kissed him back, just a quick peck on his lip, for now—“let’s see if we can find out.”

  Chapter 16

  It had been, undoubtedly, one of the best weekends of Torr’s life.

  They’d spent every moment together under the guise of him protecting her from the rogue Cheld.

  Neither of them had slept Friday night, which they’d spent alternating between talking and fucking.

  Saturday was little different. He made brunch for her, wearing her apron and naught else, while she laughed hysterically, and then they ate together, Charlotte claiming his eggs were the best she’d ever eaten. And he ensured that wouldn’t be her only superlative sentiment toward him that day.

  They ordered dinner to be delivered, ignoring most of the texts and phone messages blowing up their phones, with the exception of those from Alessandra and Toni. Even then, they simply assured her friends they were fine. By then he’d admitted to himself their weekend had little to do with him protecting her and everything to do with him taking the excuse not to leave Charlotte’s side.

  He’d been so wrong about her. She may hold her shoulders back and enunciate her words clearly or wear those damn blazers everywhere, but he’d never met someone less uptight in the ways that mattered. Perhaps because of her past, Charlotte did not pass judgment. Not on him nor his siblings, even after some of the horrible things they’d done in the past. She remained nonplussed for nearly every story with the exception of any time a woman from his past was invariably mentioned.

  He even found her possessive streak a turn-on.

  On Sunday afternoon,
they got the all-clear. Alessandra hadn’t felt anything for days, so if, indeed, another Cheld had passed through, he or she was clearly gone.

  No need for him to stick around any longer.

  Except . . .

  “Come to the bar with me.”

  Charlotte sat on her couch in stretch pants and his T-shirt, his favorite look of hers, he’d just decided. She leaned over to glance at her phone. “A bar, at four o’clock—”

  “The bank,” he clarified. “It’ll just be Lawrence and Toni, maybe Laria. They got the rest of the furniture delivered yesterday and are meeting there later. Grabbing takeout—”

  “OK.” She bounded from her seat and approached him, standing on her tiptoes to reach his mouth. “Let me just go change—”

  He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes as she did the same. He’d gotten used to holding her like this—and to the way they fit like they belonged together.

  I want you to be yourself.

  She’d disarmed him with those six simple words. For the first time in many, many years, Torr had tried to strip away all his witty comebacks, all his pretenses. And as his reward, he’d discovered this woman who’d ensorcelled him had so many layers he’d need another seven hundred more years to uncover them.

  And, God help him, he wanted to.

  Far from the pampered princess he’d first mistaken her for, Charlotte was instead a wounded but independent woman who wanted only to stand on her own two feet. She didn’t wish to ever rely on anyone as surely as her mother had relied on her father. Her father and his business partner had stolen money, but the true damage they’d done went deeper than the loss of wealth.

  Charlotte had admitted to an inability to fully trust others. And when her trust had been broken by Alessandra and Toni, or so she’d thought, every emotion from her fragile teen years had come rushing back.

  They’d talked about her childhood in South Carolina and his travels. About family and life and death. He’d explained to her that vampires could die—decapitation or aspen wood, the same wood used for his brother’s coffin, would do the trick. He also told her more of the Cheld and his duties as a hunter. They could be hidden only by wearing the stems of wild roses—the same flower Lady Isobel had placed on Alec’s coffin.

  There was a sad beauty about some aspects of the curse and countercurse, and the way it had sprung into being, powered by that powerful lady’s grief and goodness.

  Reluctantly, he let Charlotte go. But instead of moving away, she reached up and ran her hand along his cheek. “I like it.”

  He hadn’t shaved this weekend. Although he’d gone home briefly to grab some clothes, the house had, thankfully, been empty. Not wanting to answer the questions he would be forced to face later today, he’d taken what he needed and quickly left, his goal simply to get back to Charlotte.

  “Then I’ll keep it.”

  Torr suspected he would do much, much more for this woman than not shave.

  Her smile faltered for the briefest of moments. He knew what troubled her—the future, which they’d not talked of by mutual consent—for it troubled him too. Cupping her face in his hands, he made a decision in that moment.

  “I’ll stay as long as I can.”

  Her sweet face froze. Had she possessed the same heightened senses the curse had given him, Charlotte would have heard his racing heartbeat as he awaited her response.

  He’d been forward to suggest it, but Torr never allowed himself regret. Waiting for her response, though, was the kind of torture he could do without.

  “You said you were leaving at the end of the month, after the bar’s opening.”

  His thumb wandered from her cheek to the corner of her mouth.

  “That was what I’d planned.”

  She opened her lips, just slightly.

  “And what if a Cheld arouses—”

  “I will need to go.”

  There it was. The reason, or one of them, he had never allowed for something like this to happen before. A hunter could never stay in one place.

  He used his thumb to outline her top lip, not fully open, imagining the tip of her pink tongue touching it. Touching him.

  Groaning, he pulled away.

  “We should go to the bar.”

  As if pulled from a trance, Charlotte turned to walk away, but he’d have none of it. Stopping her, he looked in her eyes for the answer he craved.

  “I’d have your thoughts, Charlotte.”

  “I will take all of you that I can get.”

  Her words shot straight to his cock. He closed his eyes to reverse the spell she’d cast. If he wanted to walk out of here comfortably . . .

  “Let me change.”

  His eyes flew open. “You’re perfect.” He looked at his shirt on her, reluctant to relinquish his small claim on her.

  Following his gaze, seeming to understand, she thankfully agreed. “So what are we waiting for?”

  Although he was the one who’d suggested the outing, he’d much prefer to toss Charlotte down on the couch beside them. Still, he knew it was time to pay the piper, or his brother in this case, so he instead grabbed his phone from the kitchen counter and waited for her to do the same.On the way to the bar, Charlotte tried, once more, to elude him, insisting she had to keep him on his toes.

  “If I can’t outrun you, I can at least hide,” she said, her tone saucy, as it only was when she spoke to him. While she had taken off fairly quickly for a human, Torr found her inside The Creamery easily enough. Hating to remind her of his superior sense of smell, he feigned surprise when he found she’d ordered them both ice cream cones—chocolate peanut butter cone for her, vanilla for him.

  She’d teased him mercilessly yesterday about his preferred ice cream flavor. It was when she’d called him “boring” that they’d commenced their second bout of lovemaking for the day.

  Torr had easily disproven her claim.

  They walked now at a leisurely enough pace, enough so that they’d nearly finished their ice cream cones by the time they arrived at the bar. As they stepped through the door, both of them laughing, Charlotte popped the final piece of ice cream cone in her mouth.

  To say his siblings and Toni looked shocked at the sight of them would be an understatement.

  “Greetings, mortals,” he said jovially, then frowned at Toni. “Or mortal, I should say. Speaking of which, when is my brother planning to rectify that?”

  Charlotte swatted his arm. “Torr, behave.”

  He grabbed her hand before she could pull it back.

  “Never.”

  Lifting her hand to his mouth, he kissed her palm, his tongue flicking out long enough for her to feel it, but not prolonged enough for the others to notice. Probably.

  “Uh, it’s good to see you,” Laria ventured.

  But Lawrence wasn’t so indirect.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Toni scowled at him, and swatted him too, but Torr had expected as much or worse and wasn’t fussed.

  “Finishing an ice cream cone. Coming to look at the new furniture. Which is spectacular, by the way. Gives the space a warm, man-cave kind of feel.” The deep wood tones reminded him of a lodge in winter.

  “No, it’s not like a man cave,” Charlotte said, walking up to one of the leather loveseats. “Cozy. But sophisticated too. I love it.”

  “Thanks,” Toni said. The only one at ease with the situation, she sank into the sofa and patted the empty seat next to her for Charlotte to join. “Come test it out with me.”

  Code for Come talk to me.

  She did, looking up at him as she lowered herself onto the soft leather. Winking, he walked toward the bar, listening to the ladies’ conversation. He shouldn’t listen in but he couldn't help himself.

  “Love the casual look,” Toni said. “And nice shirt.”

  “Thanks,” Charlotte responded, lowering her voice. “It’s Torr’s.”

  Chuckling to himself—she’d clearly forgotten about his hearing—h
e sat down next to his sister at the bar. Laria was looking at him with only slightly less surprise than Lawrence. No, despite knowing how he’d spent his weekend, neither of them had expected him to enter the bar arm in arm with a human, Toni’s friend, eating an ice cream cone.

  “Unbelievable,” Lawrence muttered as he walked behind the bar.

  His brother placed a drink in front of him none too gently, then crossed his arms and gave him a look he’d mastered over the centuries. Only Torr hadn’t earned it this time.

  Well, not completely.

  “I haven’t kidnapped her—”

  “Obviously she is a willing party,” Lawrence interrupted. “That’s not the point, and you know it. You’ll be here for, what, a few more weeks? Unless—”

  “Duty calls. I know as well as anyone—”

  “She’s not the kind of woman to toy with.”

  “What kind of woman, exactly, should one toy with?” Laria shot back at Lawrence.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “But thanks for giving him a hard time on my behalf.” Torr smiled at his sister.

  “Don’t be an asshole, Torr. She deserves better,” Laria said.

  So much for his ally.

  “I’m not being an asshole. Not this time.” He grabbed the whiskey.

  No one looked convinced.

  “I like her,” he insisted.

  Laria rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s painfully obvious. Also not the point.”

  “I’m so glad I came tonight—”

  “And we’re so glad you came too.”

  Finally, a friendly voice. He turned on his stool to look at Toni, who’d come to stand behind him, but his eyes had another agenda—they wanted only Charlotte, who stood beside her. He had the impulse to pick her up, carry her back to her apartment, and pretend their weekend together wasn’t nearly at an end.

  “How did you manage to get her out in public?” Toni nodded to Charlotte. “Like this?”

  Putting his drink on the bar, he grabbed Charlotte and pulled her toward him, right between his legs. “Cute, right?”

  Toni laughed. Laria’s eyes widened. And Charlotte’s lips parted just enough to make it necessary for him to shift uncomfortably on the barstool.