“Ah. Forgive me,” he said with a smile. He hit a switch, and light from a stained-glass wall sconce above the headboard of his bed bathed the room in a soft glow. He hit a second switch, and picture lights on the walls illuminated various paintings and tapestries. He took the fruit from her, set it and the wine down, then watched her face as she stepped past him into the room. He was rewarded by a widening of her eyes and a sensual parting of her lips, as if a comment on his lair was almost, but not quite, ready to fall.
“Well? Are you disappointed . . . or relieved?” he asked.
“Disappointed?” she parroted, turning slowly to take in the whole room, stopping when her eyes fell on the king size sleigh bed.
“That the infamous three Cs are missing.”
She shook her head vaguely, obviously not understanding him.
He smiled again. “Cobwebs, coffins, and candles.”
“Umm, I can understand no cobwebs or coffins. I’m sure Hollywood probably invented those, but what’s wrong with candles?”
He stepped into the room and stood beside her. “Actually, you can thank Mr. Stoker for the popularization of the coffin image, as well as most other images presently associated with the Undead. As for candlelight . . . well, it, like the rose, is a bane to evil. The light isn’t painful to me as such, but I can do without the symbolism.”
She turned to him with a questioning brow. “Symbolism?”
“The rays of the sun. And the spiritual symbolism.”
“Oh.” Her gaze returned to the room, and he saw her take in the bed again with its sage green linen; the stained-glass sconce done in a peacock feather design of green, blue, and gold; and the paintings on the wall that ranged from a reproduction Monet to pastoral scenes of English countryside to a portrait of Rumer, his prized stallion from his days of managing MacArthur’s stables.
Finally she shook her head again and faced him. “I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful. Masculine, but beautiful. I guess I expected black and gloom, not greens and browns and lots of horses.”
He looked at the Monet and smiled. The Seine at Giverny was a soothing blur of color. “Strangely, I find the colors of nature more restful than black. I spend enough time as it is in the black of night. As for the horses, I’ve always had a passion for them. I can’t go near them, now. There’s something in what I am that spooks them. When I was alive, however, there was no creature on earth I loved better than the noble horse. The gray stallion there is Rumer. That’s English for ‘gypsy.’ He was my favorite.”
She took a step closer to him and put her hands against his chest. He felt the heat of her palms as acutely as if he had been naked. He drew a shuddering breath, and her scent embraced him, stirring the desire that was always present when she was. He hadn’t wanted her to leave. Could Juliana be right? Was this his second chance at something he thought to have lost forever?
He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her closer. The beat of life, so enticing and sweet, thundered in his ears, pulsed under his fingers, and filled his nostrils. It was the vampiric lust, but it was also something more than that. It was the feeling about her that had eluded his understanding since the day he had met her.
She looked up into his eyes. “For a creature who claims to have so little in common with humans, you lead a surprisingly human existence.”
“Superficially, perhaps, but . . . ”
She laid a finger against his lips. “Shhh.” Swift hands ran up his chest to his neck, and she pulled his head down to hers, pressing her lips to his as soon as they were within reach. The taste of her, as always, almost undid him. He held her in a brief kiss, then released her to gather the reins of his control.
“What is it you want, Tia?” he whispered in her ear.
“For you to take me on a ride on that magnificent bed of yours.”
The reins just collected dropped again.
SHE HAD LONGED for the intimacy of his kiss, but this one had been too meteoric, flaring with desire, but coming to an end just as she had parted her lips to welcome him. He let her go and, like a shadow, glided to the door to close it.
“There. Locked underground with no windows. Much like a coffin after all, isn’t it?” he asked softly.
“I’m not afraid, Dallas.” But was he? He had pulled away from her kiss as though he feared where it would lead. Was he truly afraid of hurting her?
He merely turned and stared at her, forgoing the reply of “you should be” that she expected to hear. Instead, never taking his eyes from her, he slowly undid his linen shirt. Her eyes followed his hands, marveling at the way his fingers unerringly performed the delicate task of each small button. When the shirt hung open, he stepped to the table and poured a little of the wine into the goblet. She sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him.
He sat next to her and offered her the wine without a word. She took a sip, then set the goblet down, much more interested in the sight and taste of what was before her. She dipped her hands into the shadow that played between the open edges of the white shirt and felt the heat of the hard muscles underneath. He closed his eyes and waited as she slipped the shirt back off his shoulders and down his arms. She had to lean forward to finish the sweet labor, and when the fabric dropped behind him, her arms, already around him, tightened to an embrace.
“A sleigh bed in Mississippi. I love it,” she whispered in his ear.
His arms responded in a matching embrace. “Actually, I acquired it a long time ago in Alaska. Someone once told me that my life was about journeys.”
“Alaska?”
“The gold rush was a good opportunity to obtain wealth, and the long nights . . . well, they had a certain appeal.”
She burrowed her mouth beneath his thick hair to his ear. “I’ll bet they did.”
She slid her hands back to his chest and gently pushed him just far enough away so that she could reach the buttons of her own blouse, but he quickly took over, deftly unpopping each tiny pearl button of the sheer blouse she wore.
It was one of the outfits that Juliana had purchased for her. Tia had cattily thought that Juliana would buy her something either unflattering or outrageous, and was genuinely surprised to see the sheer blouse delicately embroidered with a floral design, and the long, fluid black skirt with a matching gray floral pattern. When she had donned the outfit earlier today, Drago had appraised her not with the expected leer, but with a regard that had brought a rare spark of admiration to his world-weary blue eyes. Drago’s assessment of her did nothing more than amuse her, but the look in Dallas’ eyes now made her shiver. She was aware that her breathing, heavier now than a moment before, was causing her breasts to rise and fall enticingly. His downcast eyes, traveling every inch of her, hardly failed to notice either their movement or the lace camisole holding them. The blouse and camisole soon joined the linen shirt in a pool of white on the lush carpet of golden-brown, but all the colors around her were soon forgotten when he kissed her again. She was barely aware of their remaining clothing flying to the floor.
This time when his mouth joined hers it wasn’t just the warmth and softness she felt, but the restrained power and desire that ran through him like an electric current. The soft kiss deepened, and he drew on her with a hunger she hadn’t felt in him before. It thrilled and excited her, and she in turn tried to convey to him with her lips all the things she had so inadequately communicated with her words.
She wasn’t sure if he understood or not, knew only that his need was as great as hers. She knotted her fingers in his long hair and felt his hands warm her skin, and when their bodies fell back onto the bed, their legs entwined as well.
It was like a dream, but like no dream she had ever had. Her dark dreams had always been nightmares filled with the accusatory stares of victims and suspects alike. And always, presiding over all, death had sat and waited.
>
This dream, just as dark and far from daylight, didn’t eclipse those that came before, but expanded them, adding whole new dimensions and perspectives. His touch said that her fears were accepted, and his kiss told her that there was more to the night than what she had known. His hands, with a dexterity even greater than when he had divested her of her delicate garments, paved the way for his mouth with caresses that burned, flicks that teased, and strokes that drew feelings of longing and desire from places so deep within her she hadn’t known they existed. Streaming down her throat, across her shoulders, and over and around her breasts his hands coursed, not only arousing her, but urging her. It’s all right, they told her. Accept what is, and explore what could be.
His mouth was still on hers, ending each kiss like a farewell full of promises, only to kiss her anew, fulfilling each promise. She untangled her fingers from his hair, and, as he did to her with his hands, she did to him. His was a body not sculpted in a gym, but by hard labor. She felt the contours of his shoulders, back, arms, and chest, and wanted to cry for each pain and hardship that had forged the hard muscles.
When his mouth finally began its journey down the path his hands had traced, she paused in her exploration to revel in his. His tongue set flames of liquid fire to skin already warmed and sensitized by his hands. He traveled her neck only to linger at her throat, his tongue licking at her, his lips marking each spot with a slow kiss.
Suddenly she felt the muscles under her palms tense, and, his breaths coming hard and heavy, he hesitated, at last nestling his forehead at the base of her throat. She waited until his breathing steadied and his muscles relaxed, her hands featherlight on his back.
With a deep inhalation he renewed his voyage, lowering his mouth to the well between her breasts. She first felt his breath against her skin, so hot the rest of her body shivered in relative cold. She lowered her hands to the small of his back and urged him with the gentle kneading of the muscles there. He kissed the hard line along her sternum, then lifted his lips to reach the top of one breast. She arched into him, and her hands dug into his muscles, no longer gentle. He dipped his mouth to her nipple, and teased it with his tongue and lips until it hardened under his onslaught. She released the grip of her fingers, and her hands raked up his back, seeking both to respond to the pleasure he wrought and to find a refuge from the ache of his tormenting touch.
Her legs found the solution instead, hooking his. She rolled to the side, flipping him on his back. He was heavy, but the move on her part was easily done, learned long ago as part of her training in defense and arrest tactics. He sprawled on the huge bed, his breathing labored, his lips drawn back, and his eyes dark and glazed, as if his passion was a drug that transported his body to a whole new realm. His hair framed his face, as wild as his eyes, and his skin glowed in the lamplight with a pale, golden sheen. The drawn-back lips revealed the sharp eyeteeth she had noticed before, but by far the greatest evidence of his desire was his manhood, undiminished by his journey to the other side. She straddled him, facing the foot of the bed, and took him in her hands. She wasn’t necessarily trying to pay him back for his sweet torment of her, but, in a release of her fears and constraints, to fully explore the magnificent creature beneath her. His moan, more animalistic than human, only served to spur her to love him with an abandon she had never before experienced. She stroked the velvet skin, awed that something so soft could sheath such hardness. She kissed him as he had kissed her, a combination of tongue and lips that elicited a low sound that was half-groan, half-growl, proof that she both pleased and plagued him with sensations that tested the boundaries of his control.
She felt his hands on her hips, drawing her up to him. His hands circled her buttocks and ran down her thighs, and the ache deep within her that hadn’t diminished since he had stepped onto the veranda mounted again. She laid her face low on his abdomen, still caressing him. She felt the muscles under her cheek suddenly contract as he lifted his head, and she felt his hands move to a position low on her hips. The brief warning did nothing to prepare her for the assault of sensation that followed when his tongue touched her most sensitive spot. Her body jerked in sweet shock, but his hands held her securely, allowing him to continue. His tongue stroked her until she thought she would explode.
She pulled away when she could stand no more and turned around so that she faced him once more, but was startled by his appearance. His disheveled hair glimmered like spun glass, and his eyes were opaque, but his skin, drawn tightly against the bones of his face, was just the opposite—so translucent he looked to be made out of ivory wax. She supposed it was the result of being deep in the throes of vampiric lust, but the sight was not pretty. More than that, it was disturbing. Was this the physical manifestation of the beast he had spoken of?
No sound came from her mouth, but she knew her features, caught in the emotional turbulence of the moment, would not be able to mask her shock.
Dallas’ animal eyes narrowed. “Take a good look, Tia,” he growled. “This is what I am. Is this what you wanted to see?”
No. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the gravely voice that carried the pain and suffering of two hundred years. It was the same voice that had touched something deep within her that first evening at the inn.
“Is this the creature you wanted to make love to you?”
Was it? It was still Dallas—still the same man. If the beast was indeed a part of him, she would have to accept it if she wanted to stay with him. What kind of lover would she be if she could love only the handsome image he had shown her, and not all of him? She was determined that he know she could survive in his world.
Her throat constricted with her emotions, and it was all she could do to nod. She gave him her complete answer in the language of her body, laying on top of him and rubbing herself slowly against him, willing him to return her embrace. His body was rigid with a tension she suspected was close to unbearable, and she despaired that they would be unable to continue, but just as a tear slipped from her eye to his chest, his arms wrapped around her, one encircling her waist, the other cradling her head.
“Take me, then, love,” he whispered, his voice sounding almost human again.
He loosened his hold so she could sit up, then helped her as she positioned herself above him. He held her hips, and as she lowered her weight onto him, he pulled her down until she encased all of him. Their joining was a sweet end to the tension that throbbed through her, but the journey had only begun. She started a slow rhythm, lifting herself up and sinking back down, stroking every inch of him with every cycle. She glanced down at his face and saw that his mouth was open and his eyes closed. She closed hers as well, and let the sensation of his body filling hers transport her back to the dream.
It was still night, but now there were no cages and no boundaries. All was accepted, all was allowed, and all was possible. There was no right or wrong, good or evil, no shame, and no limits. Surrender, always a bad thing unless someone else was doing it, was now a thing to be embraced. Appearance and reality melted together, and fantasy and fact became indistinguishable.
The ache built in her again with every stroke they completed, but it was hard for her to increase their pace. He saw the need, and rolled her onto her back. He took over, and his speed and power brought both of them to the culmination of the journey. He brought her to the brink, and when her release came, his swiftly followed. He stayed with her and held her, and when his trembling body told her he struggled to deny his vampiric release, she eased his burden and slid out of his grasp.
She walked on weak legs to where the bowl of fruit sat and savored the sweetness of several chunks of strawberry and melon before turning back to the bed, not sure what she would see. She was more afraid now that it was over than she had been before. Could her rational self accept the vampire as easily as her passionate self had?
Wobbly steps brought her back to the bed. Though his
hair was still untamed and his body gleamed with the sweat of lovemaking, the beast was gone, replaced by the vision of the man she still knew so little about. Except how he made her feel. If Drago was the Anti-God, then this surely was the Anti-Lover, unfettered by the decorum and restraints of the daylight world, able to create for her any fantasy she could ever imagine. Except the one she truly wanted—a man who would love her for always, unconditionally.
She took a long sip of wine and sat down on the edge of the bed.
He held out a hand to her. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. She took his hand, and he pulled her to the center of the huge bed. “What about you? Your need was not filled.”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t exactly say that. The vampire’s release was denied, yes, but, like any hunger, it can be controlled. Most of the time, that is. But the human release . . . I still feel it, in all its glory, have no fear.”
She reached a tentative hand to stroke his face and stared into the eyes that had paled to the clarity of green amber. His human eyes. The eyes she loved so much. It wasn’t just their beauty, but what she saw in them. The strength and pain of so many years . . . and the ability to see so deeply into her soul. They closed at the feel of her fingers tracing the line of his jaw to his mouth. She touched his lips with her fingertips, and when he opened his lids again, it was the vampire’s dark eyes that gleamed at her. She tried to snatch her hand away, but his large hand smothered hers. He raised her hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss to her palm, and lowered her hand to her lap. “It is best, love, not to stir the bloodlust too much.”
She nodded. “So what happens now?”
“What do you want to happen?”
So that was it. That’s all that was on his mind—creating fantasies for her. Correction. One last fantasy. He had made no indication that he had changed his mind about tomorrow. She took a deep breath. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow, but already worries about his “deal” were intruding into her thoughts.
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