by P. C. Cast
Shock brought her to an instant halt. “You settled here because of me?”
“Yes.”
Surprised, happy, she sucked the entire length of his penis into her mouth. He was so big, her mouth stretched wide.
He began to babble. “I was afraid another gnome would try and hurt you, couldn’t let that happen, had to stay near you, damn you feel so good, I need to get inside you. Oh, that feels good. Your mouth. Heaven.”
“I love you,” she said, never ceasing her up and down strokes.
His hips shot up, and he growled low in his throat. Hoarse. Animalistic. She worked him, savoring every sensation, every taste.
“Holy hell, I can’t stop,” he managed to gasp.
She sucked him dry.
When he lay limp, collapsed against the dried leaves and twigs, she crawled over him. Feminine power filled her, and she grinned slowly, wickedly. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”
“Not nearly as much as I wanted you to do it.” Twin circles of pink painted his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to go off so quickly. That just felt so good, and it’s been so long, and it made me forget—” He cut himself off and pressed his lips in a thin line.
“How long has it been?” The question sprung from her before she could stop it. She didn’t want to hear about his other women. Wanted him only to think of her. Her body, her mind. Her heart.
“About a year,” he admitted sheepishly.
He pushed her to her back with quite a bit of force, and she smashed into the ground with a gasp.
Instantly he frowned. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to push so hard.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m not hurt.” Smiling seductively, she stretched her arms toward him. “I like it when you’re rough.”
His expression softened, and his gaze raked over her. Desire blazed all the hotter in the blue depths of his eyes. No longer red, she realized happily. Why did they turn red? Was he a demon now? If so, she didn’t care. He bent between her legs, his warm breath fanning the very heart of her. Her mind blanked. Already she trembled for the first stroke of his tongue, for the ache she’d always dreamed about, for the completion she’d always wanted. Needed.
He tasted her. His tongue circled her clitoris, an erotic dance that spun her through madness, through heaven. “Hunter,” she cried, arching against him.
“That’s it, baby.” His voice was strained. “Go all the way over the edge.”
Her legs wrapped around his neck, locking him in place. The pressure . . . the building . . . an unstoppable crescendo. When he brought his fingers into play, sinking them deep inside her, she realized the pleasure had only just begun.
“I won’t hurt you, I won’t hurt you, I won’t hurt you.” His voice vibrated through her. “You taste so good.”
She continued to arch, writhing, screaming her pleasure to the twinkling stars. Her magic acted as a live wire, shooting fireworks in her blood. Then, everything crested. High, so high. Her inner walls spasmed; heat exploded inside her. So much sensation, more than she could bear, yet not enough and somehow everything.
She must have squeezed her eyelids tightly shut because Hunter was suddenly hovering over her. His eyes were red again, and sweat trickled down his temples. Lines of tension bracketed that sweet mouth of his, as if he’d endured all he could and needed satisfaction.
“I’m going to enter you now, but I won’t hurt you. I’m going to fill you with me, but I won’t hurt you.”
“Yes. Please, yes!”
“I won’t hurt you.” Slowly he slid inside her, his cock stretching her, filling her as he’d promised. He moaned. She gasped. Tension tightened his features. “You’re so tight. I didn’t expect you to be this tight.”
“More. I need more. Do it, take me the rest of the way.”
He required no further encouragement. He pushed the rest of the way home. Her legs tightened around him. Squeezed his waist. Her virginity tore. Destroyed perfectly. Wonderfully.
“Virgin,” he said, shocked. His eyes closed. Pleasure blanketed his expression. “Never felt this . . . good. This right. I can smell the blood. So good.” He licked his lips as if he’d never experienced anything so delicious and wanted to savor the sensation. “So good.”
“Only you would . . . do. Harder,” she rasped.
“No, savor,” he intoned. “I won’t hurt you. Won’t . . . hurt . . . you.”
Her hands gripped his butt at the same moment she rocked her hips upward, “Savor,” she allowed, barely able to get the word out. She wanted him inside her forever.
His teeth bit into his bottom lip. “No, harder.”
“Yes, yes. Harder.”
He slammed inside, pulled back, and pounded home.
“Yes!” she shouted, loving the feel of his in-and-out penetration.
“Not. Hurt. Not. Hurt.” He moved so quickly his balls slapped her. She threaded her fingers in his hair and jerked his face to her. Her tongue thrust into his mouth. Taking. Giving. Pushing her even closer to the edge.
“You can’t hurt me, I swear.”
He reached between their bodies, rubbed his thumb over her clitoris, and that was it. The end. She erupted. Spasmed. Arched. Screamed. Her ecstasy vibrated into his body, propelling him to the end, as well.
“Genevieve,” he howled. His features tightened further and he pounded into her a final time.
Minutes passed, perhaps hours, before their breathing settled. His eyes were so red they lit up the entire forest, and he was staring at her neck. He licked his lips. She didn’t move. Couldn’t, for that matter. Satisfaction thrummed and swirled inside her, the madness gone, delicious lethargy in its place. “I love you,” she said.
Hunter suddenly jerked from her as if she were poison. “I have to leave, Genevieve. I’m sorry.” His expression was tortured. “I’m beginning to lose control. Barnabas was right. When the hunger hit . . .” He spun away from her.
“What—what are you talking about?”
“Good-bye. I’ll never forget you.” He jolted into a lightning-fast run, never once looking back.
Seven
If not for her witchy powers, Genevieve never would have caught him. He moved unbelievably fast. As it was, she uttered a transport spell under her breath. One moment she was lying on the forest floor, the next she was standing in front of Hunter.
He snarled in his throat and ground to a halt. “Get away from me!”
“Tell me what’s going on,” she commanded. Moonlight shimmered between them, painting the forest in a magical golden hue. “Are you part demon?”
Hunter shoved a hand through his hair and turned away from her—exactly like he’d done in the past. “I lied to you earlier, Genevieve. I did die. After the fight with the demons, Barnabas Vlad took my body to an underground cave. He—he turned me into a vampire.” His voice was laced with pain and sounded . . . tortured.
Ah. Now she understood the red eyes. She owed Barnabas a smorgasbord of human delights dinner, no doubt about it. “This is a good thing, Hunter. We can be together now.”
Gaze rounding, he whirled on her. “I’m a monster. I want to drink your blood.”
“Well, I’m a witch and you accepted me for who I am.”
“Stop. Just stop. It’s not the same. I could kill you, but your powers can’t harm me.”
“Yes, they can.” Determined, she raised her arms in the air and summoned forth a small beam of light. Not enough to burn him, just enough to prove her point. Golden rays began to ribbon from her fingertips.
He raised his hands to shield his eyes. “Fine. Your powers can destroy me. You, at least, can control them.”
She dropped her arms to her sides and the light dimmed completely.
“Even now I’m close to jumping on you and sinking my teeth into your neck, Genevieve. I’m thirsty, and I can smell the sweetness of your blood. I’m vile and disgusting and terrible.”
“Hunter,” she said, exasperated. She threw her arms in the air. Men—
correction, vampires—could be so foolish. “If you want to drink from me, I don’t mind.” She flicked back her hair, revealing the sensuous line of her neck. “I promise.”
“Argh.” He spun away quickly, his body stiff, his hands clenched. “Don’t do that again.”
“Or what?”
“You don’t know vampires like I do. Once they get a drop of blood in their mouth, they can’t stop. I could take too much. I could kill you.”
“You won’t hurt me,” she said in utter confidence. “You said so yourself, a thousand times. Bite me. Do it. Blood, blood, blood. I’ll keep saying it until you get over here and bite me. Blood, blood, bl—”
Hunter pivoted on his heel and closed the distance between them. He captured her face with his hands, his eyes fierce, but he didn’t bite her. He bared his teeth, sharp and white, but still he didn’t bite her. “Shut. Up. I would rather live eternity without you than to know I drained you.”
She saw the depth of his concern for her, and desperation churned inside her. If she didn’t show him the error of his thoughts, he was going to leave her. Forever. “If you walk away from me, you’re going to hurt me.”
A pause.
A heavy, sickening pause.
“Genevieve.” His fingers traced her mouth, then dipped to her neck. He fingered the pulse hammering there. “I won’t allow myself to become a killer.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist, locking him in place. “I barely survived our first parting. How am I going to live without you?” The idea alone filled her eyes with tears. After all the years she and Hunter had been apart, they deserved a happy-ever-after.
“You’ll live. That’s all that matters.” He spanned his hands around her waist, holding her with such fervency she had trouble drawing in a breath, but she didn’t care. What was breath without Hunter’s scent? What was life without her reason for living?
“Bite me,” she commanded him. As she spoke, she arched her head to the side. She had to prove to him that he wouldn’t kill her. “Blood, blood, blood, bloo—”
With a pained growl, he swooped down as if he’d reached the edge of his tolerance and sank his sharp teeth into her vein. There was a stinging prick, and she gasped. A minute passed, then another, but he didn’t stop. The sensations began to feel good, so good. He drank and drank and drank, and her mind began to grow foggy. Her limbs became weak. Black wisps twined around her thoughts.
“Hunter,” she gasped. “I’m . . .”
He jerked from her as if she’d screamed. She slumped to the ground. Panting, he stood over her body. Blood dripped from his mouth and guilt filled his eyes. “I’m sorry. Sweet heaven, I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She was panting. “I swear. You stopped in time.”
“No. Too close. In the morning, I’m going to walk into the sun,” he said, his voice so ragged with determination it emerged as nothing more than a feral snarl. “There’s no other way. I’ll keep coming for you otherwise, I know I will.”
In the next instant, he was gone.
“Hunter. Hunter!” Weak, she lumbered to her feet. She screeched a transport spell, but it didn’t work. Her magic had weakened with her body.
Genevieve scanned the forest. Where was he? Where had he gone? I’m going to walk into the sun, he’d said. “I’m okay. I survived. You didn’t hurt me, only weakened me a bit.” Not allowing herself to panic—yet—she stumbled through the trees. “Hunter, please!”
Branches swayed on a gentle cascade of wind. Birds scattered, soaring into the night sky, their wings striped with every color of the rainbow. If morning came before she found him . . .
“Hunter! Hunter!” She twirled as she shouted, still searching. Minutes passed. Horrendous, agonizing minutes.
He never reappeared.
Hunter made it to the caves in seconds. He’d moved so quickly that the world around him became a blur, that the five miles seemed like less than one.
Barnabas was still there, still sitting on the dais. The cave walls were rocky and bare. Bleak. Like his emotions. Hunter didn’t know why he’d come here. Here, of all places. With this man. He simply hadn’t known where else to go. He’d bitten Genevieve and had almost drained her. If she hadn’t uttered his name . . . Shame coursed through him.
“Couldn’t stay away, I see,” Barnabas said smugly.
Dejected, Hunter wiped the sweet, magical blood from his mouth. “I’m walking into the sun, vampire. I’m too wretched to live.”
“I told you the hunger would hit you, and you wouldn’t be able to control it.” Barnabas used his too sharp teeth to tug off one of his black gloves. “You should have listened to me, oui?” He tsked. “Now. Would you like to play a game of strip poker? I brought cards.”
“No cards.” Hunter could still smell Genevieve on him, could still taste her mystical-flavored blood in his mouth. His hands clenched at his sides, and he found himself stepping toward the entrance, ready to go to her again. “Damn it.” He froze. “Morning can’t get here fast enough.”
Barnabas sighed, and the sound dripped with dejection. “I’m going to lose you one way or the other, aren’t I? Through death or through your woman, and I think I would rather it be your woman.”
Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Sit down, and I will tell you a secret. . . .”
At last giving way to her panic, Genevieve raced into the thankfully empty cemetery and gathered her clothes. Her neck ached; she didn’t care. Her fingers shaky, she tugged on the pants, the shirt. All of the gravesites were in complete disarray, dirt crumbled, headstones overturned. Where was Hunter? She had to find him before it was too late. Her fear intensified, joining ranks with her panic. Her gaze scanned the area until she found her broom. She hopped on it and commanded it to fly.
It didn’t work. Fine.
Holding on to it, she ran, just ran. By the time she reached the center of town, her lungs burned and her heart raced uncontrollably. People were in their yards and on the streets, cleaning up damage the demons had caused. No one paid her any heed.
She spotted John Foster hiding behind a tree in his front yard, watching the lusciously ripe Candy Cox rake her garden. “Have any of you seen Hunter Knight?” Genevieve called.
John squealed in horror and sprinted away.
“No, sorry,” Candy replied with a frown. “Hunter’s dead, sugar. I doubt I’ll be seeing him for a while.”
Panting, Genevieve ran to Knight Caps. She searched every room, every hidden corridor, but the place was empty. Nothing had been cleaned; everything was the same as on the night Hunter died. Overturned tables, liquor spilled on the floor. Pools of dried blood.
She sprinted back outside and down the long, winding streets. Finally she reached the white picket fence surrounding her home. She pounded up the porch steps and shoved past the screen door, tossing her broom aside. “Godiva! Glory!” She was so short of breath she had trouble getting the words out.
A few seconds later, Glory stumbled out of her room. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The buttercup yellow flannel pj’s she wore hung over her curves like a sack. “What’s going on?” She yawned. “Are you okay?”
“Have you seen Hunter?”
“No. I thought he was with you. What’s with his red eyes, anyway? Is he a demon?”
She didn’t bother with an answer. “Where’s Godiva?”
“In her room. With Romeo.”
“Who?”
“Romeo. Her wolf.” Glory stretched her arms over her head and gave another yawn. “I think they’re having sex. Again.”
“Stop playing around and tell me where Godiva is. Please. I don’t have much time.”
“I told you. In bed. Nice hickey, by the way.” Glory paused, her gaze skidding to the kitchen. “Oh, look. Doughnuts.” She breezed past Genevieve and headed into the kitchen, where a box of Krispy Kremes waited on the table.
“Godiva!” Genevieve shouted. “Get out here right n
ow.”
The handle to Godiva’s bedroom rattled, then the door pushed open. Out toppled Godiva, tightening her robe around her middle. She wore an expression of concern, yet underneath the concern was utter satisfaction. “Is everything okay?”
“Have you seen Hunter?”
“No, I thought he was with you.”
A warrior of a man stepped from the room and approached Godiva from behind. He wrapped his strong arms around her waist. Dark hair tumbled to his shoulders, framing a face of such golden-eyed beauty Genevieve found it difficult to believe he was real. Her mouth fell open as realization struck her. This was the injured wolf?
“What’s going on, Evie? Is everything okay?” Godiva repeated. “Your neck is bleeding.”
“Hunter is a vampire, and he plans to die with the morning sun. I have to find him. Can you transport me to him?” She covered her face with her hand, fighting tears. “I can’t let him kill himself.”
“You know we can’t transport other people. I can transport myself, though, and—”
“You are not transporting yourself in front of a vampire, Godiva,” Romeo said, his voice deep, gravelly. “We will search together. I can track humans—even dead ones—in ways you cannot.”
Grateful, Genevieve nodded. She would have ridden on the broom with Godiva, but Godiva couldn’t find hers. “I must have left it in the graveyard,” her sister said. Genevieve still didn’t have the strength to fire hers up, and Glory couldn’t hold both of them. They walked.
They kept pace beside Romeo, who took wolf form. They ended up searching all night, stopping only to drink. No one had seen Hunter, and only a few people seemed surprised that they were asking about a dead guy.
Finally, only thirty minutes till sunrise, Romeo caught a trace of him. “This way.”
“Hurry. Hurry.” She wanted to scream in relief, in frustration, in agony. But when Romeo led them back to her house, she did scream. “Damn it! Why did you bring us here? He’s—” She gasped as her gaze snagged on the man standing on her porch.