Predatory

by Alexandra Ivy

  “No. A single brief bite won’t turn you. You would either have to be bitten fairly often over a stretch of time or have your blood drained until you were on the brink of death, then be infused wholly with infected blood.”

  And the vampire had only bitten her the once. Briefly.

  Richart covered the hand she had braced on the mattress with one of his. “Are you all right?”

  She met his concerned gaze. “I’m freaked out over being attacked and having no memory of it. That’s really scary.”

  “I know.”

  “So you—what—killed them Blade-style?”

  He smiled. “All but one, who got away, yes.”

  “One got away?” Panic shrieked through her. “What if he came back? What if he bit me again and I just can’t remember it?”

  “He didn’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Have you experienced missing time again? Have there been any blank spots you couldn’t recall?”

  She thought hard, trying to think of any other instances. “I don’t think so. But how can I be sure?”

  “I’ve been guarding you,” he admitted, seeming almost ashamed.

  “Guarding me?”

  “I used speed and stealth to obtain your work schedule and have been at the store every night when you arrived and departed in case he returned and tried to harm you.”

  She stared at him. “Every night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he likely to return?”

  “No. He would have done so before now.”

  “Yet you continued to watch over me.”

  He shrugged. “At least you said watched. Sheldon kept accusing me of stalking you.”

  She supposed some would see that as stalking. To Jenna, it seemed sweet. He had been protecting her all this time. “So . . . that’s everything then?”

  He lowered his eyes.

  “Damn it! What else could there be? You’re immortal. I was attacked by vampires. Vampires nearly killed you last night. You can teleport. What are you going to tell me now? That Sheldon is a werewolf?”

  “Sheldon isn’t a werewolf, no.”

  “Then, what?” She wondered how many times she would feel this gut-churning dread before the day ended. “Did you ask me out because you were trying to lure the vampire out of hiding?”

  His head snapped up. “No! Of course not. I asked you out because the night I rescued you you kissed me.”

  What? “I kissed you?”

  “Yes. You were grateful that I saved you. You were drugged by the vampire’s bite, so your inhibitions were lowered and . . . you kissed me.” His eyes began to glow again.

  Why did that make her heart pound? “Please tell me it wasn’t a sloppy, drunken kiss.”

  “It was not a sloppy, drunken kiss. It was sweet and erotic all at once and I was captivated. I couldn’t stop thinking about you afterward. Days went by. Then weeks. I watched over you. Watched you come and go. Listened to you chat with your colleagues. And, when I couldn’t keep my distance any longer, I gave in to temptation and . . .”

  “Asked me where to find the Krazy Glue?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your eyes are glowing again.”

  “I can’t help it. Even with my ears filled with cotton and a sledgehammer assaulting my head, I want you.”

  And she wanted him. Despite everything. Or because of everything. She would decide which later.

  Richart watched Jenna, waiting for condemnation, acceptance, a Can we talk about this later? I need time to think. Anything that would give him a clue to her thoughts.

  She rose onto her knees and scooted closer. Slinging a leg across his own, she straddled his lap.

  Lust slammed through him as she settled upon the erection barely concealed by his boxers. Clarity came with it, finally erasing the fuzz the drug had induced.

  Clamping his hands on her tempting ass, deliciously clad in tight yoga pants, he leaned forward and ravaged her lips with his own. She responded with all of the heat and urgency that seized him, parting her lips and inviting him within. Richart thrust his tongue forward, teasing and tasting hers as his heart slammed against his ribs.

  “I hated keeping secrets from you,” he whispered.

  “I understand why you did.”

  He grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt and drew it over her head.

  Her hair crackled with static electricity and clung to him as he wrapped his arms around her mostly bare form. So soft and warm and his.

  He reached behind her and unfastened her bra. “Have I mentioned I haven’t done this in a while?”

  “Me either. It’s been years for me.”

  “For me it’s been decades.”

  Her eyebrows flew up. “Decades? But . . . you’re so gorgeous.”

  He laughed. “As are you.” Drawing the lacy material down, he revealed pale breasts with hard pink tips. “Human males are idiots.”

  Her laugh turned into a gasp as he leaned forward and drew a taut bud into his mouth, sucking, nipping, and stroking it with his tongue.

  Jenna tunneled her fingers through his hair as fire invaded her. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” she forced herself to ask between gasps. The man had almost died, after all.

  “I think you can feel that I am.”

  She certainly could and rocked against him, thigh muscles bunching as pleasure darted through her. “I meant . . .” She moaned as he slid one hand up to cup her other breast and knead it before his fingers went to work on the sensitive tip. “I meant . . . your head . . .”

  “My head aches,” he muttered, “but I couldn’t care less. I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks.”

  He abandoned her breast and reclaimed her lips. Falling backward on the bed, he rolled her beneath him. Jenna gasped as he inserted a knee between her legs and began to apply rhythmic pressure.

  She loved the feel of him above her, his weight pressing down on her, his heat surrounding her. She loved him.

  He trailed kisses down her neck, her chest, stroking one breast, then the other as he rose onto his knees. His tongue found her belly button the same time his fingers clasped the elastic waistband of her pants. “I love yoga pants,” he murmured.

  Jenna laughed and shifted her hips as he drew them down, taking her panties with them, and tossed them on the floor.

  “Now you,” she insisted.

  His boxers landed on the dresser.

  He had the hottest body. All muscle and sinew. Strong and perfect.

  She felt a moment of insecurity. While she had managed to keep her weight down over the years, having a baby, then lacking both the time and energy to exercise hadn’t exactly left her with the tightest, most fit physique.

  “You’re so beautiful, Jenna,” he murmured, those large warm hands exploring every inch of her as he raised eyes that glowed with desire to meet hers.

  “You’re beautiful,” she said.

  Growling, he slid farther down the bed, slid his arms beneath her knees and lowered his head to take her with his mouth.

  Jenna threw back her head and gripped the sheets as pleasure scalded her, heating her blood. Moaning, she reached down and clutched his hair with desperate hands. His mouth was so warm, his tongue doing things she didn’t even know a tongue could do until ecstasy exploded within her.

  Crying out, she rode the wave as Richart continued to play, prolonging her orgasm, then sending her off into another.

  Panting, she collapsed against the sheets.

  Richart rose above her, his expression fierce and triumphant and full of longing.

  Jenna planted a hand on his chest and gave him a little push. He fell back, watching her with those hypnotic amber eyes as she rose and straddled his knees.

  “My turn,” she said, then grasped his heavy erection and engaged in a little play of her own, stroking, squeezing, reveling in every groan she elicited.

  “Jenna.”

  Smiling, she lowered her head and closed her mouth around th
e warm soft tip. He moaned and muttered something in French.

  She hadn’t done this in a very long time, but any concern she felt that she might not be doing it well fled when he tunneled his fingers through her hair and urged her on.

  “So good,” he murmured.

  His pleasure sparked a return of hers. She loved the way he tasted, the way he reacted to every long draw, every stroke of her tongue. And she loved the ecstasy that swept his handsome features as he came hard, calling her name.

  Easing up to lie beside him, she watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

  He turned his head, met her gaze. “That was incredible.” Rolling onto his side, he smiled. “My headache is gone.”

  Jenna laughed. “Good.”

  He leaned in, brushed her lips with his. “Very good. Because I’m not finished with you.”

  Her breath caught as he fondled her breast. “You aren’t?”

  He shook his head, a mischievous gleam entering his glowing eyes as he slid his hand down her stomach to the heart of her and teased the sensitive nub hidden there.

  She wouldn’t have thought she would be able to orgasm again, but the need that rapidly rose told her otherwise.

  “You’re so wet,” he whispered, rising up to settle between her thighs. “I want to be inside you the next time you come.”

  She wrapped her arms around him. “And I want you there.”

  Richart stared down at Jenna’s pretty face, flushed with pleasure. Positioning his cock at her entrance, he slid inside.

  She was warm and tight and delightfully eager.

  She slid her hands down to grip his ass.

  Richart lowered his head to take her lips once more, kneaded her breast as he withdrew, then drove home again. And again. And again. The pleasure once more rising. Even better this time with her body clutching his.

  He had known it would be like this. All those nights he had imagined being right here, moving inside Jenna, his feet hanging off the too-short bed, he had known it would be better than anything he had ever experienced before. And, when she threw back her head and cried out as another orgasm claimed her, her inner muscles tightening convulsively around him and driving him into his own, he knew he was lost. There would never be another for him.

  Jenna was it. She was the one.

  Rolling to his side, Richart held her close.

  And tried not to think what the future would hold for them.

  The weeks that followed were perhaps the most blissful of Jenna’s life. She and Richart were inseparable. When they weren’t working, they were together. When he was working and she was at home, they talked on the phone or texted, pausing only long enough for him to slay vampires, which was bizarre.

  She learned something new about him every day. None of it frightened her, though, despite his concern that each revelation would be too much, that this or that would be the thing that was just too weird for her.

  One night Richart hefted her effortlessly onto his back and raced through the countryside at preternatural speeds. It was scary and exhilarating and so much fun. Richart could outrun cars. And did so just to impress her, his eyes sparkling with boyish pleasure as she laughed.

  He made her feel like a teenager again. Carefree and young, despite the fatigue that pulled at her. Working all night and playing with Richart nearly all day was taking its toll. But it was totally worth it.

  They never spoke of the future. Never discussed what might happen to their relationship long-term. What would happen when she began to age and he stayed young.

  He had mentioned once that, if she wished, she could have her DNA tested to see if she could be transformed without turning vampire. Jenna suspected he hadn’t mentioned it again because he feared what the test may reveal and wanted to hold on to hope for just a little longer.

  The fact that she was actually a brunette seemed to please him. Jenna had been dyeing her hair off and on ever since she had begun to go gray prematurely at the age of twenty. An overwhelming majority of gifted ones apparently had black hair. He did know of two, however, who had brown hair.

  He hadn’t asked her if she wanted to be transformed, probably because it wasn’t as easy a decision to make as one might think. If she were transformed, Jenna would outlive her son, the grandchildren he would give her in the future, and their grandchildren, too.

  Shaking off the somber thoughts, Jenna finished washing the breakfast dishes and dried her hands on the towel hanging beside the sink.

  “What time is Richart coming over?” John asked, still poring over one of his textbooks at the table. He wouldn’t have to leave for his first class for another hour.

  “I don’t know. He said it might be a late night and didn’t want to talk because his sister and another immortal were with him and would overhear.”

  “Ahh.”

  In the next breath, Richart appeared in the living room. He wore his usual vampire hunting togs: black shirt, black pants, long black coat, daggers and throwing stars in every loop and pocket and sheath. Smudges of blood adorned his upper lip and chin, as if someone had punched him hard enough to break his nose. His eyes glowed a vibrant amber. His features, when he caught and held her gaze, bore an intensity that sucked the breath from her lungs.

  “What happened?” Jenna asked, closing the distance between them.

  Looping an arm around her waist, he yanked her to him and claimed her lips in a long, passionate kiss.

  Jenna forgot everything as fire burned through her and every nerve ending sprang to life. Forgot the blood on his chin. Forgot the weapons weighing him down and poking her as he pressed her against him. Forgot her son.

  By the time Richart raised his head, she was as breathless as though she had just run the 400-meter relay.

  Richart looked over her shoulder and nodded abruptly. “John.”

  “Hey,” John said, sounding stunned.

  “Excuse us, please.” As soon as Richart finished the husky proclamation, he whisked them to his bedroom in his home.

  Jenna had no time to ask him what was wrong. He went to work, removing their clothing at preternatural speeds. His kiss was fierce, his hands aggressive in their exploration of her, turning her body to liquid fire.

  Richart said nothing, the need to touch Jenna, to feel her against him, overwhelming. He was so desperate for her. He worried he might be hurting her until she wrapped her legs around him and begged for more.

  Tossing her onto the bed, he dove after her. There was little foreplay this time. He needed her too much. As soon as he felt how wet she was for him, he sank inside, taking her fast and hard with strong, powerful strokes.

  Jenna clutched Richart closer, panting, pleasure rising. His touch contained a hint of desperation, a roughness that had never been there before and excited her above and beyond. She cried out as ecstasy consumed her, reveled in hearing her name on Richart’s lips as he came soon after.

  Her muscles went limp.

  Richart sank down on her, forearms braced on the bed to keep the bulk of his weight off of her. “Did I hurt you?” he murmured.

  “No. It was fantastic.”

  He nodded, face buried in the crook of her neck, and rolled them to their sides, still joined.

  Jenna waited for her heartbeat to slow its frantic pace. Richart never loosened his hold on her, cradling her close.

  “Did something happen at work today?” she asked tentatively.

  A moment passed. “We lost some good people tonight.”

  “Oh, no.” She rubbed his back in soothing strokes. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It was bad. Like nothing I’ve ever seen. We had no warning.” He loosened his hold and relaxed a little, resting his head beside hers on the pillow so their noses almost touched. “You know the immortal I always complain about having to hunt with?”

  “Bastien?”

  “Yes. He’s in love with a mortal and almost lost her today. I was with him while he sat there, agonizing and blaming himself, waiting to hear if
. . .” He shook his head. “I just kept thinking . . . what if it were me? What if it were us? What if you had been harmed?” He stroked her face with gentle fingers. “I love you, Jenna.”

  Her throat thickened.

  “I know it may seem too soon,” he continued.

  It didn’t. Not for her.

  “But I love you. I do.”

  Jenna pressed a hand to his jaw and smoothed her thumb across his stubbled cheek. “I love you, too.”

  He closed his eyes, turned his face into her touch. “The thought of losing you was too much. I needed to hold you. To lose myself in you.” He urged her closer. “I just needed to be with you.”

  She could live with that.

  Quiet enfolded them.

  The corners of his lips twitched.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I think we may have shocked John.”

  She laughed. “Somehow I think this won’t be the last time.”

  He smiled. “I think you may be right.”

  “So. You spending the day with Jenna?” Sheldon asked as Richart donned his coat.

  He nodded.

  “What’s wrong? You guys have a fight or something?”

  “I feel guilty,” Richart confessed. “She works long hours all night, then I keep her up most of the day. It’s wearing on her.”

  “Mentally or physically?”

  “Physically. She tries to hide it, but she’s exhausted. There are circles under her eyes. She keeps getting headaches. And she’s so run down she’s caught that flu that’s going around.”

  “That sucks. Try to get her to go to sleep earlier.”

  Richart smiled wryly. “I always intend to, but . . .”

  Sheldon smiled. “I hear ya. Hey, do you want me to make her some chicken soup?”

  “No. I’ve tasted your chicken soup. I want her to feel better not worse.”

  “Smart ass.”

  Richart teleported to Jenna’s living room and found John waiting for him.

  John raised a finger to his lips, then motioned for Richart to accompany him outside.

  Puzzled, Richart followed him out onto the landing and waited while he closed the door behind them.