by Morgan Hawke
His arms closed tight around her, holding her in his lap. “Thorn.”
She pushed at his hands and tried to rise. “Let me go!”
He held her firmly seated on his lap. “You will stay.”
“No!” She struggled. “I won’t!” Water and suds sloshed over the sides of the tub, splashing on the floor. “I don’t want to talk about this!”
Yaroslav held her in place. “We will speak of this, and we will speak of this now!”
“I don’t want to!” Thorn tried to get her feet under her, but the bottom of the tub was just too slick. More water spilled out.
“So I see.” He grabbed one of her wrists, and then the other, trapping them under his arms and locking her back against his chest. “But it must be spoken of.”
Thorn struggled in his hold, her heart beating in her mouth.
He braced his legs and held on to her. “Thorn, what is this fear?”
Fear? She stilled in his embrace. Did she fear him? Yes. She trembled with a fear she couldn’t quite identify. A fear she didn’t want to identify. “I just don’t want to talk about…this.”
His lips brushed her temple in a deliberately soothing gesture. “You have desire for me, yes?”
Desire…? Thorn turned to look at the door. Yes, yes, she did. She ached with the urge to have him. “Yes, I enjoy bed sports with you, but that’s not—”
“And you would not see me harmed?”
“Of course not!” Red fury gripped her heart. “I would kill any that tried.” Her voice came out in a low, liquid growl.
“Then what is this fear?” He stilled utterly. “Do you doubt that I love you?”
Pain throbbed deep in Thorn’s chest. He loves me. Her throat tightened. “I…” Her voice didn’t want to work right. “I know you do.” It was in his voice when he spoke to her. It was in his hands when he touched her. It pressed against her heart, a warmth like no other. “I just don’t know if I can love you back.” She closed her eyes to hold in the hurt.
He stilled and then trembled. A chuckle escaped his lips. “How foolish.”
Thorn’s hurt vanished under a wash of hot temper. “It’s not foolish!”
“Oh, but it is.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You have loved me all this time.”
“What?” Thorn twisted on his lap just enough to deliver her glare. “How can you say that?”
He gave her a breathtaking smile. “Because it is true.” He released her wrists to cup her face. “Believe me.” He pressed a hot, voracious kiss to her parted lips.
The taste of him brought every thought in Thorn’s head to a screeching halt. His teeth raked her tender lips. His agile tongue seduced her into seeking him out and returning his hungry passion.
Without breaking his kiss, he cupped her hips and urged her to turn on his lap. He caught her knee and lifted it, bringing her leg over his legs so that she straddled him on her knees, facing him.
Thorn caught hold of his shoulders for balance and practically attacked his mouth with her tongue and teeth.
He closed one arm tight around her hips and turned away, breaking the kiss. His lips were red and moist from her kisses but set firmly. He turned back to face her, and his gaze was determined under lowered brows. “You love me. There is no doubt.”
Thorn groaned and set her brow on his shoulder. He just wouldn’t let it go! “How can you be so sure?”
“It is unmistakable.” Yaroslav slid a hand down her spine and cupped her butt. “There is no one who sees us who does not see your love. It is as visible as your golden eyes.” He tilted his head to catch her gaze. “The only one that does not recognize this—is you.”
Thorn bit down on her bottom lip. She did lust after him, and she did care for him. Was this love? A fist seemed to close around her heart. She didn’t want it to be love. She couldn’t afford to love him. But if it was…? “Yaroslav, what happens when I go home and there’s an ocean between us?”
He groaned and slid his hands under her thighs, lifting her from his lap slightly. “More foolishness.” He pulled one hand from her and slid it between them. “You belong…” the head of his cock nudged the delicate flesh, “with me.” He pulled her down, surging into her, filling her.
She threw back her head and gasped, grabbing for his broad shoulders.
He cupped her butt in his palms. “You are…” he urged her up, sliding nearly completely out of her body, “mine!” He slammed her back down onto him.
Brutal delight detonated within her. Thorn unleashed a small shout and arched up. She shoved back down onto him with greedy haste, determined to wash away the ache in her heart with the physical rapture he offered. With his hands on her hips to guide her, she rode him with incredible ease, buoyant in the water. Her moans and gasps filled the sunlit bathroom. Water sloshed.
His mouth sought hers, and they kissed. Their bodies swayed apart and back together, rocking against each other, mercilessly urging the rising tide of ecstasy to a murderous pitch. Groans and panting became frantic gasps and hungry growls.
He arched her back until her head nearly touched the water and sought her breasts with his mouth. His lips fastened on a nipple; then his teeth. He bit down with his flat front teeth and then sucked hard, lashing her swollen nipple with his tongue.
Bolts of delight struck with each pass of his tongue on her nipple. Thorn dug her nails into his shoulders and cried out, drowning in the molten pleasure coiling tight in her belly, stirred by his strong thrusts and his sinful mouth.
Grasping Thorn around her hips, Yaroslav twisted sharply, turning them sideways. He moved forward, until Thorn’s back pressed against the tub’s curved side, and held her there. “You love me, but I have yet to hear it from your lips.” He thrust hard.
Thorn groaned. Love…? Again? She shook her head.
He caught her by the hair at the base of her neck and took her mouth in a swift, hard kiss. He ground his cock deep into her.
Thorn moaned into his mouth and threw her arms around his neck. She locked her legs around his hips and writhed against him, impatient for release.
Yaroslav pulled back, breaking the kiss. “Thorn, I would have you say it. Tell me you love me.”
Thorn clenched her jaw. She shook her head. Why wouldn’t he just let it go? “No.”
“Thorn…” His brows dropped low over his eyes, and his mouth curved downward, “tell me you love me.”
A stab of pain shot through her heart. She turned away. She didn’t want to love someone she was going to leave.
“What is this?” He caught her jaw in his palm, forcibly turning her to face him. “You will remove these thoughts of leaving!” His jaw tightened, and a growl erupted from his chest. “I will not allow it.”
He would not allow it? Thorn bared her teeth and snarled all her anger and frustration in his face. “You can’t make me stay with you!” She shoved against him. “I’m not a pet!”
“Oh, but I can.” He lunged forward to grab the rounded edges of the tub on either side of her. Pressing against her, chest to breast, he pinned her against the wall of the tub. He smiled, baring all his long teeth. “You belong with me!”
Thorn’s temper snapped. She’d had enough. No one told her what to do. “Fuck you!” She shoved at his chest and called on the wolf that shared her soul. The wolf rose in a white-hot rush of joy. Thorn’s skin tingled with the onrush of fur. Her ears and the teeth in her mouth lengthened with incredible speed. She snarled, baring her lengthening teeth, and shoved against him with hands tipped in claws. “Let go!”
“You will not change!” Yaroslav grabbed for the hair at the back of her neck, forcing her head back, and set his other palm against her forehead. “I forbid it!” Dark, smoky power slammed against the white fire of the rising wolf and shoved her back.
Thorn’s skin burned with the retreat of her fur and ears. Her teeth returned to human flatness, leaving an ache in her jaw. She grabbed for his wrist, but her human strength was no match for his. How the
hell was he doing this?
He growled and released her forehead. “You forget; I redesigned your aspect.” Gripping her hair, he took her mouth in a punishing kiss that sucked the breath from her lungs. He released her, and his lip curled. “Your body is mine.”
Thorn gasped for breath, stunned by his possessive anger.
Yaroslav caught her under the calves, forcing her knees up high and wide. He thrust hard into her body, slamming her against the side of the tub. Then again, and again…
Thorn arched back with the violence of his taking, shuddering under the hot bolts of delight he delivered with each stroke. She was mad as hell at him, and yet the coals of her banked passion ignited into a firestorm of raw, wanton lust. She could not stop herself from responding to him. Tears spilled from her eyes even as soft, helpless cries spilled from her throat, announcing her desperation for ecstasy’s release.
Yaroslav leaned into her, twisting his hips with his hard thrusts. His heated breath scorched the skin of her throat. “Tell me you love me, and I shall let you come.” His long teeth grazed her throat, leaving shivers in their wake.
“Please…” Clinging to him and trembling uncontrollably, she gasped for breath, barely able to breathe past the ravenous need in her core and the raw pain in her chest. “Please, no….”
His arms tightened around her. “Tell me you love me.” His hoarse voice broke. “Please!” His anguish pressed into her mind and against her heart.
Her gasps became sobs. “I don’t want to love you, only to lose you.”
“You will not.” His thrusts eased, becoming long, torturous retreats and slow, decadent advances. “You will not lose me.” His lips caressed her brow, pressing gentle kisses. “You cannot lose me, for I will not let you go. I will never let you go.” His voice was gentle, coaxing, tender, and yet desperation echoed clearly behind it. “You are mine to the end of your days. I love you.”
Tears blinded her and burned down her cheeks. His words sliced through her, shearing her heart in two. It was too late. Her heart was well and truly lost. She sucked in a breath. “I do, I do love you.” Her voice barely made it past the tightness in her throat. “It hurts how much I love you.”
His mouth sought hers to deliver a kiss that bruised her lips. He broke the kiss to stare into her eyes. “I will take very good care of you. I so swear.” His arms closed around her tight, and he kissed the side of her throat.
She moaned softly, desperate for release, and yet worn to the bone by the battle over her heart.
His teeth pricked her tender skin and then sank in slowly, taking her throat with exquisite care. He removed his teeth and sucked gently, drawing her blood, drinking her soul.
Climax rose in a slow, ponderous, yet unstoppable tidal wave of sheer intensity. It flowed over her, bowing her backward with its unforgiving force. Her breath stopped. Rapture rushed through her in an overwhelming flow of intense pleasure that would not stop. It washed through her so completely, all thought snuffed out to blackness. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear screams.
21
Utterly exhausted, Thorn staggered out of the bathtub, supported by Yaroslav’s arms. She curled her lip. “That was a filthy, rotten, dirty trick, you pushy bastard.”
Yaroslav pressed a swift kiss to her brow. “I know.” He wrapped a fluffy white towel around her and rubbed her skin.
She glared up at him. “Proud of yourself?”
“Truthfully?” Yaroslav grinned down at her. “Yes. You are a very difficult woman to win.”
Thorn groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’m not a prize, damnit.”
“Oh, but you very much are.” Yaroslav rubbed her long silvery hair with the towel. “A great many would have you.” He pulled the towel away. “Can you stand?”
“Sure.” Thorn stepped back on rubbery knees and grabbed the edge of the tub. “What happened to me washing your hair?”
Yaroslav walked around the tub to grab another towel off the shelf. “Securing your heart was of far greater importance to me.” He scrubbed at his damp skin.
“Securing my heart?” Thorn snorted. “What are you planning to do with it? Lock it in a box?”
The vampire stilled and then straightened to wrap the towel around his hips. “And if I say yes?”
Thorn blinked. “That’s…not possible.” But, then, a lot of things she’d thought impossible had proved far too real.
“It is possible, in a sense.” Yaroslav collected another towel from the shelf and approached her while unfolding the white, nubby length. “Love cannot be taken; it must be given.” He leaned close to wrap the towel around her. “Words of true love spoken from the heart resonate with a great deal of power, which can indeed be bound.” He tucked the corner of the towel into a fold across her breasts. “Once gifted, love can be held in such a way as to feel the heart’s pulse beating in one’s hand.” He dropped a quick kiss on her brow.
Thorn tilted her head and stared. Was that supposed to make sense? She sighed and shook her head. “If you say so.”
Yaroslav set his arm about her shoulder. “You will see.” He urged her toward the bathroom door. “In fact, momentarily.” He escorted her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.
Four people standing in the center of the bedroom turned to stare—two women in maid’s uniforms and two men in semiformal black and white livery, all holding clothes over their arms.
Yaroslav blinked. “Or perhaps not.”
Thorn’s heart stuttered in her chest. How long had they been there? How much had they heard?
Yaroslav patted her arm. “They are here to dress us.”
The maids approached Thorn, and each bobbed a curtsy.
The men approached Yaroslav and bowed.
Dressing proceeded with extreme and near violent haste.
The bedroom door closed behind the exiting staff.
Thorn gripped the long, heavy skirts of her scarlet velvet coat and walked in a circle before the tall looking glass set between the windows. Sunset spilled past the edges of the bedroom’s closed curtains, drawing shimmering midnight rainbow hues from the black silk of her high-waisted gown.
She fingered the gold and silver thread of the embroidery weighting the wide collar that banded her shoulders and draped down over her chest. Matching embroidery covered the belling sleeves and edged the velvet coat all the way down to the floor-sweeping hem.
The full-sleeved and full-skirted gown under the coat was simple in design, but the heavy black silk was embroidered within an inch of its life with broad, exaggerated flowers in deep emerald, ruby red, and indigo. The shift beneath was a very soft cream silk. And then there were the loose, voluminous trousers gathered at the ankles into gold-embroidered cuffs.
For all its decoration, the whole thing was surprisingly easy to move in. Thorn turned about in a barefoot pirouette. She stopped, her cheeks heating with embarrassment. I’m acting like a little girl in her first party dress. She bit down on her bottom lip and tugged at her full shirts. Well, technically it was her first party dress.
Never mind. She thumbed a lock of her long hair behind her ear. The dressers had merely brushed the whole mass straight back and set a small gold-embroidered, pointed cap over it. The cap’s slender embroidered band across her brow was all that held everything in place.
She lifted a long lock of her silver hair. It hadn’t gone back to its normal pale brown. It was still as silver as her wolf fur, only it had developed black streaks at her temples too, just like the dark streaks that marked her fur. Her brows had also darkened to almost black. She’d tried to change it back, concentrating until her head pounded, but nothing she did would return her to her human coloring. Damnit….
She sighed and walked across the room to where Yaroslav preened before another standing looking glass. “Are you sure about me wearing this?” She positioned herself to the side of his standing glass to get a good look at him. “I feel like I’m dressed for a Christmas costume party.”
“So
?” Yaroslav tugged at the embroidered long collar of his sleeveless, scarlet, velvet, floor-sweeping robe. “It is traditional for my home.” He swept a hand down the sleeve of the black brocade coat he wore beneath it, tied with a broad, deep scarlet sash. The only sign of the long deep indigo shirt beneath the coat was the fabric that came through the long slashes in his coat sleeves. His full black trousers were tucked into knee-high black boots with aggressively upturned pointed toes.
“Traditional, eh?” Thorn’s brows rose, impressed in spite of herself. He looked positively…royal. “So, where is your home?”
Yaroslav raised his chin and swept a hand over the top of his head to the long, sleek braid his midnight hair had been confined to. “I was born in Kiev in Russia.”
Thorn nibbled on her bottom lip. “Prince Rafael said you were prince of Kiev?”
Yaroslav winced slightly and nodded. “I was tsar a very long time ago.” He smiled. “It was not to my liking, so I gave the title to my younger cousin Roman, who liked it very much indeed.”
A knock sounded on the door.
Yaroslav turned sharply to look. “One moment, please!” He glanced down at Thorn’s bare feet and frowned. “Where are your slippers?”
“I, um…” Thorn’s cheeks heated. The slippers in question were made of glove-fine leather, lined in scarlet velvet, and had curled-up, pointed toes. They were also covered in delicate gold thread embroidery that matched her cap. “They’re over on the bed.” She pointed. She hadn’t put them on because they hadn’t seemed like real shoes.
Yaroslav rolled his eyes. “Well, fetch them.”
Thorn tugged at the edges of her coat. “Don’t they have any boots I can wear?”
“Boots?” Yaroslav’s brows rose. “Whatever for?”
Thorn clenched her jaw. “Those slippers are too fragile. I’ll ruin them!”
Yaroslav smiled. “They are only shoes.” He pointed at the bed. “Fetch them, and put them on your feet.”
Thorn groaned and went to fetch the delicate slippers off the foot of the velvet-swathed bed. She leaned against the bed and lifted first one foot and then the other to set the slippers on her bare feet. They felt wonderful, but she just knew the pretty things were going to be in pieces by the time the night ended.