“Maybe I’m not a decent person after all. Here you are, torn up over having to commit violence and I’m…w-well, I liked you defending me. A lot.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I feel sensitive.”
The hand on her shoulder had stopped moving. “Where?”
Mary shook her head vigorously.
“It could be adrenaline,” Tucker said, his voice scraping like metal spikes on asphalt. “It’s not unusual to experience a spike in…energy. After a fight. Or being scared.”
“Wouldn’t it have gone away by now?”
“Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know.” He cursed under his breath. “Jesus, I’m really betraying how little I know about women, aren’t I? I haven’t got a clue what’s going on here, Mary. You have to be blunt.”
The need to touch, be touched, turned demanding. Touch was her most vital sense and she’d been staving off the instinct to touch him for the last couple of hours, turning her into a shaken soda bottle. Pressure throbbed in her fingertips, along with other more private parts of her anatomy and she found herself reaching up to capture Tucker’s hand where it rested on her shoulder. As soon as they were skin to skin, boldness snuck past her shyness to take the lead. This was Tucker. They may have only been acquainted a short time, but she had full confidence he wouldn’t judge her. That he would be understanding.
That he’d enjoy putting his hands on her.
Mary pressed Tucker’s palm against her cheek, rubbing against the coarseness there. His fingers jumped a little, then settled, his thumb brushing the underside of her jaw. That wasn’t where she craved touch, though. Or not the only place. So she bit her bottom lip and slowly dragged his hand down her throat and collarbone, settling it on her breast.
A bolt of sharp heat rocked Mary and she gasped, her head falling back against the rest.
“Please…”
“Ah, Jesus. Mary…” His voice was bottom-of-the-barrel low. Shaking. “I thought maybe…maybe you were turned on, but I had to be wrong…”
“Turned on,” she said, testing out the foreign phrase.
Tucker’s throat muscles worked. “You told me last night that you can cry if someone around you is sad. That you can experience someone else’s feelings. Is that what’s happening here?” He swiped a thumb over her nipple and she jerked, gasping. “Are you hot like this, because of…my needs?”
“No. I have to m-make an effort to feel energy. Especially with an immortal, I have to reach out. This is me.”
“God thank God. And also…wow. Holy shit.” He lifted her breast, kneading it lightly, a shudder passing through him. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
Sensation coursed through Mary, targeting her core, and she squeezed her thighs more tightly together. “I don’t know. Just touch me. Everywhere.”
In the snap of two fingers, Tucker was gone. His heat, his touch, his signature. Gone from the car. She whimpered in her throat, alarmed, turning her head right to left in an attempt to pick up his whereabouts, but there was nothing. Nothing until the passenger side door opened, her seatbelt was unclipped and she was hauled out of the car. There was no mistaking it was Tucker and she sobbed in relief, in need, letting herself be moved.
The car door closed and Mary’s back met the smooth surface, Tucker crowding her in from the front. Her butt was wedged against the lip of the closed window, toes a handful of inches from the ground, Tucker’s fingers plunging into her hair. Holding them close with foreheads pressed together. Overload. It was total overload, going from no touch to the most perfect kind. He was sturdy and hard and she’d been hungering for this all along, hadn’t she? Wanting to get closer again, like in the stairwell back home.
“We’re in a wooded area, off the two-lane highway,” he said, right against her mouth. “It’s dark, but you can’t see the sky because of the tree cover. The ground is all pine needles, clumps of hard snow here and there…”
Tucker kept going while her heart levitated.
He was describing their surroundings. Without her having to ask.
“Thank you.”
“We shouldn’t be doing this, Mary.” In conflict with his words, Tucker’s hips locked against hers and rocked, firmly enough for the car to sway, a violent tremor passing through him. “For so many reasons. You’re marrying someone else. You’re my…”
“I’m your what?”
“My passenger,” he croaked eventually. “God, I want you.”
“Your hands,” she laugh-whispered. “I need them on me.”
“And my mouth?” Their lips brushed. “I can kiss you?”
Wonder and excitement made her breath hitch. She’d been so focused on the ache in her breasts and womanhood, she hadn’t even stopped to consider kissing. But suddenly she couldn’t live without Tucker’s mouth moving on top of her own. It was essential. “Yes, please.”
Mary had always wondered what a sunrise looked like.
This was the closest she’d ever come before.
Tucker’s slanted lips parted over hers carefully, suctioning and slowly twisting upright, like a key turning in a lock and opening a door to some enchanted land. The night sounds amplified around them, along with the friction of their clothing, because once the kiss started, it became the only means of survival.
It was her first kiss and yet, somehow she knew Tucker hadn’t kissed a lot of women. His hands fumbled their way out of her hair to grip the roof of the car, followed by the sound of metal crunching. As if he’d been shocked to the core. He kissed her one way, pulled back, then tried another, either unable to make his mind up how best to taste her or wanting to kiss her in the way that was most pleasing to her. It endeared him to her even more. His lips were cool and yet they branded her in their urgency, his chest expanding as if it were filling with pressure until it pinned her to the car, along with his hips. A thick bulge touched down hesitantly to her mound, thrusting once, before Tucker dragged his lower body away with a ragged sound.
Mary wanted it back.
She knew exactly what that hard object between his legs was. Tilda might have kept her in the dark about a lot of things, but even her mother had explained the mechanics between male and female bodies. There were so many reasons she couldn’t join her body with Tucker’s, but she wanted him to be vulnerable with her. Ached for that intimacy with him.
But before Mary could voice her request to see him, all of him, Tucker slid his fingertips down her stomach, lifted the hem of her dress and cupped her between the thighs.
Mary’s cry echoed among the trees. And it grew louder when Tucker began massaging her flesh slowly and reverently through her panties, his hand so huge compared to her, there was no place left untouched. The friction was all over, the wet material dragging through the cleft of her sex, moving faster the more she encouraged him, opening her mouth and welcoming his tongue, giving him her own, mewling as they stroked, rubbing like two halves of a whole.
“That what you needed?” he paused their kiss to ask her.
“Yes,” she choked out.
“From…me.” He huffed a sound of disbelief. “Can’t believe…you needed this from me.”
The promise of pleasure and relief from the ache was whipping inside of her and she could only nod, could only curl her fingers in the front of his shirt and let the waves build taller. A golden glow replaced the usual blackness behind her eyes. Beautiful, so beautiful, she lost what little breath remained in her lungs. And all she could think was more, more, more.
Did she say that out loud?
She must have because Tucker moaned into their kiss and yanked her underwear down, letting the cotton shield fall to her knees, returning his quartet of thick fingers to the juncture of her thighs, slipping them through her folds and finding the bud at the top and rubbing it with his knuckle until she screamed and batted his shoulders, an unintelligible plea for mercy.
“Mary, I…” he started hoarsely. “God, honey. You got this wet listening to me fight?”
“For me. Fight for me.”
&n
bsp; He sawed his drenched middle and ring fingers over her clit, leaving to collect dampness from her entrance, before returning back to rub, rub, relentless in driving her higher, to some precipice she’d never been before. “I’d fight the world if you asked me to.” Those words were like gasoline on a fire she didn’t understand. Only knew that it wouldn’t go out unless he kept touching. Faster, faster. “Your enemies are mine, Mary.”
Oh lord.
A treasure chest had been pried open inside of her, revealing something buried. Latent. Primitive and raw. Back at the diner, he’d been like a lion battling for his lioness and…maybe, maybe it was the sense of belonging that gave Mary that made her so eager for more of his attention. This kind of attention. Somehow she knew it wouldn’t be like this with just any male.
It was Tucker.
“I could put a finger inside you, honey,” He pushed his mouth up against her ear. “I could push it in thick and bring it out wet. You want that?”
“Yes.”
Even though he’d asked for permission with confidence, a sense of amazement, gratitude, skipped through his signature. There was wonder written in his open mouth, the crunch of metal above her head, the finger that pressed deep inside her femininity and explored with a gentle thrust. It was exactly what she’d been craving, though she didn’t know it until now. The pressure, the solid presence of his fingers, the push and pull motion. She thought of Tucker’s weight pressing her down and a very different part of him filling her. Thought of that and his aggression during the fight, how he’d fall somewhere between that and his sweet self if they made love, naked, skin sliding and slapping together—
The heel of Tucker’s hand pressed to her clit, pushing until that sinful hand was trapping her lower body against the car in the most sensual torture. “I’m your full service man, Mary. I’ll drive you, protect you, serve your body. I’ll do it as long as I’m allowed and be thankful.” And his hand ground lightly, fingers still deep, deep inside her sex and the most glorious sensation cascaded through her. “All I want in return is to watch you come.”
“Tucker.”
Mary’s back arched off the car, a scream caught in her throat, her skin molten and no doubt glowing. Pleasure pulsed between her legs so intensely, it was painful and perfect at the same time. That burn behind her eyes lifted the darkness to light and each of her muscles contracted, holding, holding so unbearably tight, before releasing. Tucker continued to apply that twisting pressure with the heel of his hand until she went limp, forcing him to catch her before she slipped down and hit the ground.
Somehow, she found the strength to reach up and wrap her arms around his neck. He dropped his chin down on the crown of her head, swaying them side to side. Not all was right, though. She’d been released from her lust, but Tucker…he hadn’t, right? And she could feel the thick protrusion of his shaft between them, trapped between his hips and her stomach. Unable to bear his lack of relief another second, Mary dropped her right hand from around his neck, bringing it between Tucker’s thighs, tracing the outline of him through his pants, exhaling with delight when it seemed to swell into her palm.
“Mary, no,” he said raggedly, capturing her wrist. “I don’t need you to return the favor.”
“I want to. Very much.”
His groaned above her head, his hips seeming to cinch closer involuntarily.
Mary leaned in and traced his chains with her mouth, her tongue, then over to his skin, lapping at and savoring the cool texture of him.
“I would give anything to feel your hand on my cock, honey, but it’s complicated.”
Cock. He’d said it. Out loud. And she loved the boldness, the raw quality of that word. Eagerly, she nuzzled her cheek in the chest hair present in the V of his shirt. “Complicated?”
Tucker’s indecision was obvious. “I can’t, uh…reach completion. Not a real, satisfying one. The pleasure builds and fades to a manageable degree, but it’s nothing like you just had.”
“Why?”
Several seconds passed before he answered. “A vampire can only climax once he finds his mate.”
Mary’s spine stiffened, discomfort racing along her nerve endings and leaving them raw. “So you’ll never be able to…with me?”
“No.”
“Because I’m not your mate.”
A very long pause. “That’s right. It’s, you know…something a vampire can sense immediately.”
Her throat started to throb. “But someone will be your mate one day?”
“Possibly, yes.” Why did his voice sound unnatural? Was he imagining this mate and what she might look like? “If I find her.”
Mary had shoved Tucker away from her before she registered her own movements. Her esophagus—it burned. There were hot nickels pressing in behind her eyes and the whistling sound of her radiance spinning angrily could be heard in the forest. Her fingers curled into fists and her lungs expanded. She knew what was coming. She always did, but nothing could ever stop it. When it came time to let out the scream, nothing mattered but setting the burden free.
It wasn’t quite the same this time, though, was it?
Something did matter.
Tucker was going to meet someone else at some undetermined time in the future and touch them the way he’d just touched her. Kiss this faceless creature. Give her pleasure and worse, worse of all by far, this mate would be able to give Tucker something Mary could not.
“Shit, Mary…” Tucker said cautiously from a short distance away. “I didn’t mean to upset you. If you only knew how much I hate it.”
A strangled sound eked out of her.
“You could feel my rage earlier? Well, feel how bad I want you right now, honey.” It didn’t matter that he sounded miserable. In fact, in her current state, she didn’t mind it at all. “And think about it, Mary. Think of how…hard it would be if you were my mate and I had to watch you marry someone else. This is for the best.”
Logic had no place here. Nor did fairness.
Not yet. Not until she got rid of the scream building in her throat. All it took was imagining Tucker protecting another female and she breathed fire. The high-pitched decibel of the scream was painful even to her own ears, but God, letting it out was glorious. It took up her entire consciousness, turning everything blessedly blank for a few moments, taking away the frustration and jealousy. How had her feelings for Tucker gotten so intense so fast? It was as if they’d started at the top of a roller coaster that didn’t have any valleys and kept climbing to higher peaks.
Distantly, she heard the shattering of glass and the swerving of tires on the nearby road, but once it started, there was no stopping until the burden dwindled—
Tucker’s mouth closed over hers and kissed her hard.
His arms banded around her like steel, holding tight, rocking gently.
“It’s okay,” he breathed into her hair. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not,” she said, voice hitching.
She had growing feelings for this vampire—and he wasn’t the one she’d agreed to marry. Her goals were simple. To regain her sight. Call back the Assembly through the noble act of marriage to Hadrian, thus making amends with Tilda. The things that had been important to her for a lifetime were within her reach. Mary had no right to feel jealous. She was the one who would join herself to another. Not Tucker. At least not yet.
But this pit opening up inside her couldn’t be reasoned with. It just was.
And she didn’t know what, if anything, she could do about it.
Disengaging from Tucker’s hold, she opened the car door and started to climb into the passenger’s side, but Tucker caught her elbow before she could sit down.
“Wait.” His tone was gruff. “There’s glass.”
Mary swallowed. On top of throwing a tantrum, she’d shattered his windows, hadn’t she? He was probably regretting the day he agreed to drive her to Hadrian. “I’m sorry.”
“No, Mary,” Tucker muttered, brushing glass off the
seat. “I’m sorry.”
They didn’t speak again until they reached the safe house.
They couldn’t.
The wind coming in through the three busted windows was too loud.
Chapter 8
Tilda ran her middle finger around the rim of the teacup, trying to appear as if she wasn’t intimidated by the vampire sorcerer across the candlelit banquet table. She was used to being the frightening one, but with a fire roaring at his back and ambition making his eyes glow like red coals, he was certainly winning this round.
“My bride is where?”
Tilda sat up straighter, projecting confidence she didn’t necessarily feel. “It’s necessary for Mary to travel by car. Her radiance can’t be subdued.” She lifted the teacup to her smiling mouth. “Airplane travel would have been a bit dicey.”
His gaze burned her skin like pottery being hardened inside of a kiln. “That doesn’t explain why you’re not accompanying her, Tilda.”
Charm wasn’t going to work on this being. His intelligence was the third entity in the room, hovering overhead and shining light on every odd breath, every inconsistency. “Mary’s reasoning isn’t always sound…” she started, setting down her cup. “She isn’t always stubborn, but when she chooses to invoke her will, there is little I can do about it without shattering every eardrum in a two-mile radius.”
“Yes,” Hadrian purred, throwing a leather-booted ankle up onto the table. “I would have liked to use that weapon to my advantage a while longer. A pity you’ll supposedly be taking wing to fairy land.”
Tilda’s back teeth ground together, a spiky serpent slithering into her chest. “No supposedly about it. Anton, my husband and Mary’s father, will return for us. We’ll have our strength and value substantiated. With the next Exodus, gone we will be.”
She cursed the tic in her speech that betrayed her stress and wished for a cigarette.
“After the fae have aided me in defeating the new High Order and their allies, you mean.”
“Naturally,” Tilda responded. “That is the deal we made.”
Today, Tomorrow and Always Page 8