1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Twelve

by Alexandra Ivy

  Savage remained in the passage as the women departed for the room. When he glanced at Scythe, he found the male watching Chiara through narrowed eyes. A dark scowl creased his brow.

  “Trygg didn’t say anything about a child being in danger.”

  “He didn’t?” Savage frowned. “I’m sure I mentioned the boy when I spoke with him.”

  Scythe grunted. “Yeah. I’m sure you did too.”

  The cryptic response intrigued him. “Is it a problem?”

  Scythe didn’t answer, which told Savage far more than any words ever could. “If you or the females need anything, let me know.”

  Okay, conversation over apparently. Savage held out his hand to the other male. “Thank you. I owe you for this, and I won’t forget it.”

  Scythe stared at his outstretched hand for a long moment. At first, Savage didn’t understand why. Then he saw it—the severed stump at the end of the other male’s right wrist where there had once been a hand.

  And there was something else unusual about Scythe that he’d missed until now as well.

  Around his dermaglyph-covered neck was a circle of mangled, vicious looking scars. By the severity of them, Savage had to guess that the Breed male had nearly lost his head at some point in his life too.

  Since Breed genetics could heal all but the most catastrophic of injuries, Scythe must have been starving for blood or already half-dead from some other cause at the time this wound was inflicted.

  Scythe shrugged. “We’d been raised to think we were invincible. It made many of us reckless. Not many survived after we got our first taste of freedom.”

  “Freedom from what?”

  “From our collars.”

  The newsflash took Savage completely by surprise. He gaped at the obviously lethal, clearly antisocial Breed male. “Are you telling me that you were born a Hunter?”

  Looking at him now, it made sense. As far as assassins and stealth operatives went, they didn’t come any deadlier than the Hunters—first generation Breed males who’d been bred off the same Ancient sire and raised to be merciless killers by the Order’s chief adversary. To keep his scattered army of perfect assassins obedient, Dragos had outfitted each of them with an ultraviolet collar that discouraged defiance or escape. Punishment was instant and final.

  Dragos’s secret program had been in operation for decades before he was taken out by Lucan and his warriors twenty years ago. As for the Hunters themselves, they were all but legend among the Breed now, with only a handful known to exist.

  Evidently, Savage was looking at one of them.

  He met Scythe’s shark-black stare in question. “Trygg said you were his brother.”

  “He is. As are the others.”

  “Others?”

  Scythe acknowledged with a curt nod. “The other lost boys. The dozens of young Hunters who escaped their collars when Dragos was killed.”

  Chapter 8

  Ettore and their intimidating host were just parting ways as Bella stepped out of the bedroom where Chiara was resting with Pietro. She hesitated until the immense black-haired male had walked off before she approached.

  Ettore glanced her way, a look of lingering astonishment in his eyes.

  “Is everything all right with your friend?” she asked.

  He grunted, raking a hand through his loose blond waves. “I wouldn’t exactly call Scythe a friend just yet, but yeah, we’re good.”

  Bella registered the name with an inward shudder. It was certainly a fitting moniker for the curt, menacing-looking Breed male. “If Scythe’s glower is anything to go by, he doesn’t seem happy to be saddled with houseguests.”

  “Are you kidding? That is his happy face.” Ettore’s grin flashed, revealing the twin dimples that had never failed to charm her. “How are Chiara and Pietro?”

  “Exhausted. They’re already asleep.”

  “You should be too,” he said, his voice dropping to a tone of tender concern. His hand rested warmly on her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you settled in the other bedroom.”

  It all seemed so surreal, being in this strange place, feeling safe despite the fact that she was on the run from an evil man and his network of criminal associates.

  Ettore did that for her. She had always felt safe when she was with him. The guns and blades bristling from the belt that circled his waist had nothing to do with how protected he made her feel. It was him, the man, who had always been able to put her at ease.

  As much as he aroused her.

  Her skin still felt too warm, too tight, as they paused together at the chamber’s open doorway. Everything they’d said in the truck, the stolen caresses they’d shared in those brief moments of semiprivacy earlier tonight, now hung between them like a wound that needed tending.

  Ettore seemed to feel the same awareness that she did. The heat radiating from him was palpable, his touch at the small of her back light, yet searing. She wanted to feel his hands on her everywhere, not just in comfort or reassurance, but in passion.

  He cursed as his eyes met hers, his hazel irises dark but glittering with flecks of amber. “For God’s sake, don’t look at me like that, sweetheart. I’m hanging by a thread here.”

  “I am too.” She couldn’t resist reaching up to him, letting her hands skim the firm muscles of his chest. “I’ve been hanging by a thread since you showed up at our vineyard with my brother all those years ago, Ettore.”

  His heart was thundering. His pulse slammed against her palm, hammering like a drum. He searched her gaze for a long moment, his breath rolling in deep, panting gusts.

  The curse that boiled out of him was sharp, hissed between his teeth and fangs. “I wasn’t expecting any of this. My first duty is to the Order. I have a mission to carry out. Until I’m certain I’ve completed it, I shouldn’t be thinking about anything else. Not even you. Hell, especially not you.”

  “Of course. I understand.” She glanced away, weathering a sting she hadn’t seen coming. “Ettore, I didn’t mean to suggest—”

  He took her hand and hauled her against him, silencing her with a kiss. When he drew back from her lips, his gaze had gone molten. “I have no right to be thinking about anything but my duty to the Order. That’s what I keep telling myself, Arabella. But then I look at you and none of those other things matter.”

  She swallowed, watching the fire dance in his eyes. His pupils were narrowed to thin black slits, and his fangs surged even larger behind his parted lips. The sight of his transformation sped her pulse, while at her hip, the hard steel of his arousal sent a current of hot need licking through her senses and straight into her core.

  “I walked away once,” he snarled. “God help us both, I don’t think I can ever do it again.”

  His name was a jagged sigh on her lips as he grasped her face in his palms and covered her mouth with his once more. Kissing her so deeply she could hardly find her breath, he walked her backward into the chamber with him, kicking the door closed behind them with his boot heel.

  Something wild had been unleashed in him. She saw it in his eyes, heard it in the rough scrape of his voice. And now all of that unhinged desire was pouring into her through his kiss.

  “You’re mine,” he murmured against her mouth. Her moan of confirmation evidently wasn’t enough. “Say it, Arabella. Let me hear it.”

  “Yes.” Oh, God. She could hardly hold the desire that chased through her. Every hot sweep of his lips over hers, every carnal thrust of his tongue, inflamed a need in her that was swiftly burning out of control. “Please, Ettore. I need you. I need to feel you inside me.”

  His answer was an animalistic, purely possessive snarl. Pressing her down onto the narrow bed, he stripped away her clothing then quickly removed his own. Part of her wanted him to take things slowly—give her time to savor every nuance of the rock-hard, beautifully formed body she still saw so often in her most fevered dreams.

  But the desire they had for each other had been denied for too long.

 
Too much precious time had been stolen from them already.

  She was desperate for him. More than anything, she needed to feel his skin against hers and know that this was no dream now. That he was real. That he was hers again.

  Always, she amended silently, allowing the wish to live in her heart as he settled himself atop her.

  His eyes blazed as he watched her, his hand moving between their bodies to tease and stroke her sex. His fingers slid through her juices, a groan ripping out of him as he cleaved her folds and found the slick entrance to her body.

  “You’re already wet for me,” he murmured, a grin tilting the edges of his wicked mouth. “Damn, you’re soft, Bella. So beautiful. So fucking hot.”

  She couldn’t bite back her whimper of pleasure, both at his praise and at the intensity of her arousal for him. He teased her sensitive flesh, taking her mouth in another deep, soul-searing kiss. She felt him test her tightness with his fingers, starting with one, then adding another, his thumb working a profane magic on her clit.

  There had been no one since him, and the euphoria of being naked with him now, in his arms after so much longing, was too much to bear. Her orgasm rushed up on her unexpectedly, far too wild to hold back. She clutched his shoulders as her cry tore out of her throat. Arching off the mattress, she rode the wave to its crest, grinding shamelessly against his hand as the bliss poured over her.

  “Open your eyes, baby,” he coaxed her as he continued to pleasure her with his fingers. “I’ve waited too long to see this look on your face again. I swear, Bella, you’ve only gotten more exquisite.”

  She caught her lip between her teeth as the aftershocks rippled along her nerve endings, while beneath the pleasure another climax was already beginning to build. “Ettore, please…”

  He knew what she needed. Shifting his weight, he positioned himself between her spread thighs. Her body was more than ready for him, slick and hot and open. Yet it was still a shock to feel the impossible thickness of him as he pushed the head of his cock inside her, then thrust to fill her with the hard length of his shaft.

  “Bella,” he uttered tightly, “you have to tell me if I’m hurting you.”

  “No.” She shook her head, even as tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, God…it feels so good. I thought I remembered, but this…”

  “I know, baby.” He started to move within her, rocking slowly at first, each stroke taking him deeper, pushing further inside her, until she wasn’t sure where he ended and she began.

  “Ah, love,” he murmured. “Your body is so tight around me. So damned perfect. I can’t—”

  His words were lost to the feral groan that ripped out of him. Caging her between his forearms, he drove inside her faster, deeper, untamed in his need. His handsome face contorted with the ferocity of his thrusts, his fangs so enormous they filled his mouth.

  Bella’s gaze fixed on those diamond-bright points as he crashed against her. She couldn’t get enough either. She wanted all of him. Not just this moment and the wish that it might last. She wanted forever with Ettore Selvaggio.

  After just one time together and ten long years in between, he was still the only man she craved.

  In her heart—to the depths of her soul—she knew he was the only man she would ever love.

  Chapter 9

  Savage didn’t fully understand the depth of his mistake until he was buried within Bella’s velvet, wet heat. She moaned and sighed as he rolled his hips against her. Her hands roamed his back, her fingernails skating down the valley of his spine, scoring him as he pushed her toward the peak of her release.

  Damn, she was lovely. Sweetly angelic, yet sexy as hell. She always had been, but now there was a strength in her too.

  There was a power inside her, one that had been forged in the fire of what she’d endured the past three years. No longer the sheltered innocent, but a resilient woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to take it.

  And, incredibly, what she wanted was him.

  Still.

  The realization stunned him, humbled him. Made him want to hold her close and never let her go.

  One taste of her a decade ago had ruined him for any other woman.

  Now, every cell in his body was hammering with the need to make her his alone.

  In flesh and vow.

  God help him, he wanted to claim her in blood too.

  He wanted that with a ferocity he’d never known.

  Not true, he corrected. He had wanted Bella as his blood-bonded mate even then. Ten years of absence from her had only solidified that resolve.

  He loved her, and blood bond or not, he knew he would destroy any male who thought to take her away from him now.

  “You’re mine, Bella.”

  He growled the words as he pumped into her, knowing they sounded more like a demand than pledge.

  They were both. They were his purpose for breathing, and he couldn’t pretend they were anything less.

  Not now.

  Not when she was coming apart in his arms, her fingers digging into the muscles of his biceps as she cried his name and shattered with the force of her orgasm. The tight walls of her sex vibrated along his cock, tiny muscles gripping him like a slick fist as wave after wave coursed over her taut body.

  He watched her come, trying to slow his own release just so he could revel in the pleasure he was giving her. But his need owned him. This female owned him, and trying to temper what she stirred in him was like trying to cage a wildfire.

  He took her mouth in a deep kiss, drinking up her little sighs and moans as her climax began to ebb. When her eyelids slowly lifted, she gave him a blissful smile that he would kill to see on her lips for the rest of his life.

  His voice was gruff, raw. “You’re mine.”

  “I always have been,” she whispered.

  Ah, Christ. That tender admission was more than he could bear.

  Pleasure seized him, pushing his hips into a fevered tempo. Each thrust took him deeper, made his hunger for her coil tighter, testing its already razor-thin leash.

  Bella moved beneath him, meeting every hard stroke, taking him even deeper as she lifted her hips and wrapped her long legs around him.

  Her hands roamed his face and shoulders, caressing him, worshipping him. The knot of his orgasm gathered at the base of his spine, wringing a sharp groan from between his clenched teeth. Blood pounded in his temples, in his cock…in the deadly lengths of his fangs.

  “Oh, God,” Bella gasped, tipping her head back as the flush of another release swept over her skin. “Ettore…I can’t hold on. You feel too good.”

  He was beyond words now. He was only instinct and need, pure male. Utterly consumed by the remarkable female in his arms. He responded with a triumphant growl as she cried out beneath him. He couldn’t stop his hips from moving, nor his blood from pounding with the overwhelming urge to claim his female in every possible way.

  The urge became a mantra as his orgasm sped toward its peak.

  He didn’t realize he was staring at her throat until he heard Bella’s soft voice filter through the haze of his blood-tinged thoughts.

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, Ettore. I want it too.”

  When he met her gaze, he found her brown eyes steady and unafraid.

  So full of love, it staggered him.

  He knew he should turn away, be the stronger one.

  He should give her this choice when they both were clear-headed and fully able to process the ramifications of what a bond would mean. One taste of her blood and he would feel her in his veins for as long as either of them lived. He would know her deepest emotions as his own—every joy and sorrow, every pleasure or pain.

  And if she should die before him, he would be cursed to feel that too.

  The bond was irreversible.

  Unbreakable.

  Eternal.

  Concepts that had never entered his mind with another woman were all he could think of now that he was here with Arabella.

  He lo
ved her.

  To his soul, he had loved her all this time. And the part of him that was more than mortal wasn’t willing to wait another moment to claim her. That possessive, primal part of him wanted to bind her to him irrevocably.

  Forever.

  There was no place for logic in it, no room for regret.

  There was only need.

  Only love.

  He roared with the ferocity of everything he felt, and as his release took hold of him, Ettore lowered his mouth to Bella’s neck and sank his fangs into her tender flesh.

  Chapter 10

  If the bliss of making love with him had nearly wrecked her, it was nothing compared to the pleasure she felt at the sudden, sharp penetration of his fangs into her carotid.

  Bella gasped at the piercing pain, feeling his bite all the way to her marrow. But that initial jolt gave way to a pleasure that defied description as his lips fastened over her skin and he drew the first sip of blood from her wound. Heat raced through her veins like rivers of quicksilver, all of her senses—every fiber of her being—drawn toward the pulse point that now flowed beneath Ettore’s mouth.

  Each suckling tug, every erotic sweep of his tongue, confirmed what she had already known.

  She was his.

  If she hadn’t been before, the connection he had just activated between them ensured she always would be. He could never take another as his Breedmate so long as his bond to her was intact. For him, there would only be her.

  The joy that understanding gave her was almost too much to bear. It filled her heart, even as it awakened something raw and primal inside her.

  “You belong to me now, Ettore.” She tunneled her fingers through his hair, holding him to her throat as he drank. “Mine.”

  He moaned, still rocking atop her, their bodies intimately joined. His strokes intensified along with the suction of his mouth against her vein. The combined sensations flooded her with desire, stoking her need all over again.