by Nalini Singh
She brushed her lips across his, once, then again. Hesitated like something small and wild eating from his hand. At last she deepened the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth, a shy, soft stroke. When she drew in a breath, he felt the tips of her breasts touch his chest. She sighed, and slowly, oh so slowly, her eyes closed as she leaned deeper into the kiss.
It took him a moment to realize he'd closed his own as well, the better to concentrate on the delicate sensations of her swirling tongue, her gently moving mouth. He could feel her heartbeat in her breast, a rapid thump that seemed to echo his own pulse.
One soft, slender hand came to rest on his chest, cool against his heating skin. She used it to push herself upright. They stared at each other in the candlelit darkness.
Again, he watched that curious fear leap in her eyes. For a moment, he expected her to whirl and run away.
Instead she squared her delicate shoulders. Her hands went to the laces of her white gown, began to pluck at them until they fell untied. He caught his breath as she drew it off over her head and dropped it in a silken pile on the floor. Her body gleamed in the candlelight, elegant and slim, breasts pale, perfect handfuls, nipples tight and pink. She had the legs of a horsewoman, long and strong, and her arms had a kind of delicate strength, as though she did more than needlework. Her green gaze had gone bright with defiance now, as if daring him to make some cutting comment.
But speech was beyond him. He felt his cock rise, hot and hard against his breeches, balls heavy with the weight of desire.
Her gaze dipped to the broad length against his belly, and her lips parted. As he watched, her eyes dilated into a shadowed forest green, dark and wild.
"Free me," he managed at last, his eyes on the tight pink tips of her breasts. "Let me touch you."
She shot him a wary look, then seemed to remember herself and added a seductive smile. "Wouldn't you rather I touch you?"
He laughed in a harsh bark. "At this moment, I would have you any way I can get you."
The Rose stepped closer to the bed and balanced on one long leg as she slid a thigh across his belly. He caught his breath in lust at the sensation of soft skin sliding over his in a wave of silken warmth. Slowly, so slowly, she sank down to straddle him. To his raging frustration, he could feel the cloth-covered head of his cock brushing the curve of her bare bottom.
"Ahhh." Her lids dipped and lifted, revealing the green of her eyes. The pink tip of her tongue crept out to wet her lips, and she swallowed. A very faint smile curved that tempting mouth. "You make a solid mount, my lord."
"And you make a lovely rider," Raniero rasped, though the courtly words were almost beyond him as lust stormed his brain. His eyes dipped down to the soft delta of her sex, the lips full and pouting behind raven curls. He wanted to see those lips close around his cock. He could imagine how they'd feel, swollen and wet, gripping him deliciously.
The Rose considered him, her head tilting. Her slender hands came to rest on his chest, long fingers stroking. Her nails were short and serviceable, and her palms were just slightly rough with calluses.
Raniero frowned in momentary puzzlement. Her hands were slim as a maid's, but rough as a swordsman's. No stranger to battle, this one.
Then the thought flew out of his head as she bent, green eyes locked on his. The tip of her tongue peeked out at him, and he stiffened in helpless anticipation.
She licked him. A quick little flick over the tight ridges of his torso, wet, impossibly tempting, a maddening promise of more. Her head lifted, and a smile flashed, quicksilver mockery.
God, he wished his hands were free. He'd show her need. He'd make her writhe.
But his hands were bound, and she was the one with the freedom to inflict delicious torment. She bent again, and he inhaled sharply, helplessly.
Raniero's nipples were her target this time. He'd never considered them particularly sensitive before--certainly not like a woman's--yet the rake of her teeth made his cock jerk like a rearing warhorse. She settled down to lick, gently, sweet teasing circles with the occasional application of a nibble or two. As if those desperate little points were candy.
Red God's Balls, he wished she'd do that to his cock.
As the Rose nibbled, she stroked her hands over his torso, traced each ridge of muscle with tapered fingers that suddenly curled into blunt little claws. The teasing rake of nails over ribs made him want to writhe.
Green eyes watched him, shadowed by thick lashes, dwelling on his face as if fascinated. Her nostrils flared, scenting him like a cat.
His cock jerked again, brushing the velvet skin of her bottom. Raniero couldn't quite suppress his moan.
A maris was beginning to understand why poets spilled rivers of ink in praise of passion. The vampire lay spread under her like a feast, all frustrated power, arms bunching as he fought his chains. Yet he seemed scarcely aware of them, so utterly was he focused on her, on every tiny thing she did.
His face fascinated her. There was a muscle in his jaw that leaped and bunched each time she flicked her tongue over his nipples. He really was a handsome man, his face all jutting bone, deep hollows and uncompromising angles. It was a warrior's face, one that could have been sculpted by the Red God himself for the battlefield--designed to lead men and bellow orders and snarl as he swung a sword in lethal arcs.
And he had a warrior's body as well. His bunched upper arms were round as melons and near the size of her head. Each of his thighs appeared the width of her waist. Given the vampire strength within all that muscle, he'd be a formidable force on the battlefield.
A killer.
What if she could make him her killer? Amaris eyed him, considering the thick strength surging under her body, the wild black heat in his eyes.
A solid mount indeed.
Could she ride him? Could she trade him her blood for Marin's freedom? Did she dare?
Black eyes stared into hers, highlighted with candlelit reflection in flashes of liquid gold. The male hunger in that dark gaze demanded her surrender with a trace of savagery, as if he eyed her while riding at the head of an army.
Not while he himself was bound and helpless.
Raniero's lips parted in invitation. His breath smelled of honey mead. Unable to resist, she bent closer and kissed him again.
His mouth was soft, tempting, tangy with lemon, sweet with berries and honey. Amaris sighed, deepening the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth, exploring the sensuality he offered.
Something sharp pricked her tongue, and she frowned faintly, wondering. Until realization struck.
It was one of his fangs.
He was a vampire. In the storm of emotion and heat, she'd almost forgotten.
Luscious as he was, so powerfully seductive as he lay there in pretended submission, he was a predator. And worse, he was a trapped predator. If she were stupid enough to offer him the magical blood he needed to break his chains, he'd be gone like a ghost at dawn. And she'd be left alone to confront Korban's fury.
Vampires could not be trusted.
Anger surged in her, hot and sudden, spiked with helplessness. "Well," she growled down into his startled eyes, "there's one way I can use you."
She rose onto her knees in her simmering frustration, scooted back, grabbed the waistband of his breeches, and jerked downward. His cock sprang free, its strong length shading into delicious pink, its head ripe as a plum.
Amaris grabbed that tempting thickness in one hand, rose over it, and impaled herself in a single breathless rush.
Sensation ripped away her breath. He felt incredibly thick in her slick inner grip. She hadn't even realized she was so wet, so swollen with heat and need. Teasing him had aroused her as much as it had him.
Damn him to the six hells.
Bracing her hands on his chest, Amaris rose, teasing herself with the juicy slide of his cock. Rolling her head back, she sank, acutely aware of his deep, rumbling groan.
She told herself she no longer cared what the vampire felt. N
o longer cared if he moaned as she rode him. Cared not if his hungry black gaze lingered on her face, if his big hands clenched in desire, if his feet twitched in helpless reaction to her jogging strokes.
All that mattered was the impaling heat between her legs that spun such sweet pleasure every time she rose and fell. The vampire ground his teeth and rolled his hips to meet her, adding his fierce power to her strokes. But that didn't matter. She wouldn't let it. Wouldn't let him matter.
Vampires couldn't be trusted. They lied. They hurt.
And they killed.
FIVE
Raniero ground his aching fangs as she rode him, head tossing until her curls teased his thighs. Amaris felt as deliciously wet as any fantasy he'd ever had, gripping him in a tight vise of feminine flesh. Each time she moved, jolts of pleasure surged straight up his cock and into his balls, drawing them tighter, hotter, until the raging need to come whipped him into a ferocious, heaving gallop beneath her.
Red God's Balls, what she'd done to him.
Gripped in a fist of lust, Raniero watched her--the sweet, seductive bounce of the breasts he was dying to taste as they danced beyond his chained reach. Her torso rolled as she rode him, all elegant, slim curves, the long muscles of her thighs working as she jogged in easy strength. Her tattoo seemed to glow in shades of red and green on her cheekbone beneath the green flash of her eyes, and her lips pouted at him, inviting kisses he couldn't reach her to give.
It was maddening to be so utterly at her mercy, driven to climax by her luscious body, gripped so intimately, yet unable to touch.
Orgasm struck him like a spell, a ferocious blast that convulsed his thighs and curled his hands into helpless fists. He arched beneath her, surging upward, her core sheathing his cock in slick, sliding heat. His seed exploded from him in a wave of fire that emptied his balls and dropped him back on the bed, bound and panting.
With one last high, sweet shout, she collapsed on top of him, panting, sweat slicking her skin.
For several long, stunned moments, they lay together like storm survivors. Raniero's muscles quivered and jumped in helpless spasms. He was more than a little satisfied when he felt hers do the same.
At least he wasn't the only one left wrung out and shivering. It had been the most amazing fuck he'd ever had, yet he found himself resenting it. Resenting her. She'd taken him like a camp whore in a ruthless possession.
He was the one who did the possessing, dammit.
She rose from his body, his drained sex slipping from her tight inner grip to plop on his sweating abdomen like a dead bird. Face averted, the Rose searched out the shift she'd tossed on the floor and shrugged it over her head. She tied the laces with hands that shook.
"Are you just going to leave me with my cock hanging out?"
She looked around at him as she stuffed her feet in her shoes. Her gaze dropped to his reddened, sticky organ. Blushing like a schoolgirl, the Rose reached down to drag his breeches up until he was decently covered again.
A moment later, the door banged shut behind her hem. He listened to the patter of her footsteps on the stone.
One of his guards said something he couldn't make out, and the other men laughed in a nasty, knowing little chorus of chuckles that made Raniero's face heat.
Bitch.
But Red God's balls, he'd never had better.
A maris fled down the stairs as if a squadron of Varil was on her heels.
She hadn't even known her body was capable of . . . that. An explosion of ripe carnality so intense, she felt dazzled, as if she'd stared too long at the sun. Except she'd done the staring with every sense she had. Echoes of the vampire jolted through her body in hot pulses. She could still taste him on her tongue, hear his groans, feel the hard muscled heat of him between her thighs--and deeper, buried in her core, long and thick, an erotic invasion that made her shudder at the memory.
It was one thing to swive some vampire, another to imprint him on your soul. How had he done it? One fuck, and he'd driven himself impossibly deep, like a dagger between the ribs.
Bitter experience warned her to stay away from him. Yet Korban would demand she go to him again, use all her Blood Rose skills to seduce him into betraying his king.
She rounded the curve of the stone stairway--and almost slammed into a massive reptilian body. The Varil raiders hissed at her, evidently on their way up. In her agitation, she made no reply, instead turning sideways and slipping between the two, barely avoiding the claws that darted out in search of her flesh. They cursed her as she fled.
She reached the bottom of the tower stairs and escaped along the snaking corridor of the keep until she found her chamber. It was far from comfortable--a thin layer of rushes on the floor, a pallet that made her back ache in the morning, and a rough wooden bench before the fire. But as it also served as a vivid reminder of her status, it suited her just as well.
She poked up the fire and tossed on another log. As the room took on a dim glow, she collapsed on the bench to stare blankly into the flames.
What was she going to do about the vampire?
Sergeant Milric Lio Ony straightened warily when the two Varil raiders appeared at the head of the stairs. Wizard Lord Korban might trust the reptilian bastards, but he did not.
"You are dismissed," the larger of the two Varil said, his words spoken in a hissing accent that was nigh incomprehensible. A pair of iridescent blue stripes ran the length of his body from eye to tail. "Lord Korban has assigned my kevil and me to watch the vampire."
Milric exchanged a wary look with Camar, his second sword. The two men had worked for Korban for ten summers now, and barely had to exchange a word to know each other's thoughts. Their fellow guards shifted in unease. "I received no such orders." Milric let his hand fall to his blade hilt.
Lids veiled glowing orange eyes. "Is the Wizard Lord in the habit of consulting thee on such matters?"
"If he had been, I would have told him to stay away from you scaly bastards."
The second Varil sneered, the lifted black lip revealing stiletto-length teeth. Bits of his last meal rotted between them. "Then get thee gone, git'fe."
"You do not order us, lizard." Milric glowered at the hulking reptiles.
"Get. Thee. Gone." His four-fingered hand went to the axe slung across his shoulder as he bared those revolting teeth again.
Milric cursed softly. He had no doubt the bastard would use that axe if Milric didn't obey. Damned if he'd risk his life for the king's lickspittle vampire. Besides, there was mead in the kitchen stillroom, and he had a powerful thirst. He shrugged. "The post is yours."
Without another word, Milric headed down the stairs, his men hurrying at his heels.
"Git'fe," one of the Varil hissed. He didn't look around.
Which was why he didn't see the toothy grins the Varil exchanged before slipping into the vampire's cell.
Raniero looked up as the door opened--and felt his blood chill in his veins as the two raiders sauntered inside, spiked tail tips twitching in anticipation.
"Look, my kevil," the one with the blue stripe hissed. "A feast all laid out for us. Prime pork." He flexed his claws and bared a mouthful of stiletto teeth.
"And still alive to squeal." The other laughed, sending a fat goblet of spit flying.
Raniero eyed the two, clamping down on his instinctive terror with the skill of long practice. Fear was what these bastards wanted. "Korban has other plans for me," he said, his mind racing. A spell. His only chance was a spell. But given the way these chains drained his magic . . . "He will not be pleased to learn you've ruined his plans out of sheer pig greed."
Blue Stripe lifted his shoulders. "He will make other plans."
Which was the reason no sane man allied himself with the Varil. They were incapable of considering any concern but their own momentary whims. They made effective shock troops, but could be disciplined only through fear and the ruthless use of magical punishment.
Which meant they were going to slaughter him
like the pig they'd called him--if he couldn't defeat his enchanted chains. Raniero took a breath and reached deep into himself, into the heart of his soul where his connection to the Magical All burned like a torch. The cool, bright flame leaped high at his mental touch, responding to his will.
As the warriors padded toward him, grinning like a pair of demons, he shaped that leaping light into a tight, glowing spear. And flung it at the spell that sealed his chains. If he could break the spell, the chains would be no match for his vampire strength.
The shining lance struck the spell--and winked out, its power sucked away.
Blue Stripe gaped his jaws, a rope of drool spilling from his dagger teeth.
A maris's sated body purred, demanding sleep. Unfortunately, her mind raced in tight circles like a weasel in a trap. She fought to control its flight long enough for logic. So she had responded to the vampire. Well, so what? She was a Blood Rose. Making love to vampires was what Blood Roses did. All she had to do was . . .
A new thought shot through her preoccupation like a cork bobbing to the surface.
Why had those Varil raiders been walking up the tower stairs? There was nothing up there.
Except Raniero's cell.
Amaris stiffened on the thin pallet, her breath catching in horror. The Varil were notorious for their vicious appetites. They'd find a chained vampire as irresistible as wolves discovering a staked sheep. And with the enchantment binding him, he'd be helpless.
She bolted off her bed and grabbed the sheathed dagger that still lay on her bedside table after this morning's spell. It was little enough weapon against the likes of the Varil, but there was no time to run for the guard. She would have to summon Korban with a spell, and buy time until he could arrive. Assuming it suited him to keep Amaris and Raniero from feeding his lizards. Racing out the door, she sought Korban's black thoughts.
The vampire could be dying even now.
Raniero gritted his teeth as claws flashed down, raking shallow furrows across his bare chest. Blood welled and ran scarlet down his ribs. The reptiles were playing with him, looking to enjoy his pain and terror.