Bound By The Night

by Cynthia Eden

  Now the hunger was ripping through her insides. Hollowing her out.

  “I told you not to touch her,” Jamie tossed Sean back against the wall. “I told you.”

  It wasn’t the touching that mattered. It was the blood. Blood she couldn’t drink.

  “Iona?” Now Jamie was the one calling her name.

  She forced her head to lift. Made her body rise. She was still shaking, but those trembles couldn’t be helped because they came from the hunger and the weakness that filled her veins.

  Oh, how the mighty have fallen. So many would laugh to see her brought so low.

  Jamie wasn’t laughing. He was staring at her with eyes that saw far too much. “Get out of here,” he said.

  Her lips parted.

  “Yank the door back up after you, Sean, and get the hell out,” he said, never looking away from her.

  Sean hurried to comply.

  Jamie didn’t touch her. Didn’t move another inch. Not until the door was partially up, giving them a bit of privacy, and Sean was gone.

  “It didn’t work,” he said flatly.

  Of course, he’d known the truth. Maybe she had, too. She’d just been desperate.

  “It makes you sick, doesn’t it?” He asked. “When you take blood from others.”

  Yes. A vampire who could only bite one man? Talk about falling far from her perch of power. She wasn’t exactly the big terror of the town any longer.

  The faint lines deepened near Jamie’s mouth. “I want you to bite me. Take my blood…I don’t care. I can give you what you want, always.”

  He didn’t understand. But right then, she just didn’t have the energy or the control to make him understand.

  Fifteen years. For all intents, she’d been dead then. Even if her mind had been crying out in agony.

  Now that she was free, Iona wanted to live.

  She was about to break apart because she just wanted to let go—to lose her control and take the blood that he offered.

  But with vampires, when control broke and blood was involved…

  There was a reason she’d been trying to push her vampire coven away from taking blood from live sources. She’d seen the carnage that came from centuries of bloodlust and violence.

  When you took straight from a source, when your control shattered, the lust wouldn’t just be for blood.

  “Blood and sex,” she whispered.

  Jamie’s gaze burned into hers. There was no fear or revulsion or even a hint of hesitation in his eyes. There were just answering hunger. “Yes.”

  He knew what he was getting with her. No secrets there. And she needed to feel alive again. She’d gone too long in that cold darkness. There would be no holding back for her. More blood.

  She reached for him. Sank her teeth into his throat.

  His blood was perfect on her tongue. Delicious. Addictive. Like a mix of wine and chocolate.

  His body brushed against hers.

  Pleasure. Close. So very, very close.

  Her nipples were tight. Her sex already growing moist. Iona’s control was fracturing. She could feel the ripples as they shook through her body.

  His hands locked around her wrists. “Don’t worry,” he told her, the words rumbling against her as her tongue licked lightly at his throat. “I’ve got you.”

  Maybe he did.

  They were about to find out.

  In the next instant, he’d lifted her up. Took two fast steps, and then her back shoved against the wall.

  “When you bite me,” his words were a dark rumble that had her sex clenching, “I want to fuck.”

  Not an unusual reaction. The bite did something to prey. Gave them a boost of pleasure. Made them want more.

  The vampire could usually control the bite, especially a vampire as old as she was. Could give pleasure or pain.

  Her fangs scored lightly over his flesh. He growled. With this bite, she wanted to give pleasure.

  His fingers were on her stomach now, under her shirt. His hands were warm and strong and they were sliding up, up, and cupping her breasts. Her breath hissed out as her nipples pebbled beneath his touch. She arched against him, wanting more.

  His blood had already made her stronger. So now she wasn’t just drinking from him. She was kissing. Licking. Learning what the werewolf liked.

  “My turn,” he muttered as he lifted her even higher. Strong wolf.

  Then he yanked away her top and put his mouth on her breast. He used his teeth to lightly rasp over her sensitive flesh. Her sex ached. So long…

  Iona wrapped her legs around him even as he kissed and sucked her breast. She pushed her hips against him. He was aroused. No mistaking that hard bulge that shoved back against her.

  Pity his jeans were in the way.

  Not for long.

  This time, she was the one to jerk open his jeans. To pull the zipper down and slid her fingers past the denim. She found him, long, thick, hot, pushing eagerly toward her.

  Her tongue slid over the edge of her left fang. She’d had his blood. Now she just wanted him.

  His rough breaths filled her ears. Then she heard the sound of a frantic heartbeat. His? Hers? Maybe both. Racing too fast.

  “Jamie.” Her demand. “Now.” She didn’t want foreplay that lasted for hours. That could come another time. Right then, she was already clawing at his back. Pushing against him as her control shattered around her. She wanted him inside of her.

  Wanted the pleasure to erupt and sweep everything else away.

  Then his hands were between their bodies. He had her jeans open, and she had to lower her legs, just long enough to kick out of her heels and jeans. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, so she didn’t have to worry about—

  “Fuck.” His hand was between her legs. Pushing into her sex and her head tipped back because she liked the sensation of his fingers sliding in her. Her body was humming, so tuned up that she knew the first climax would hit her soon.

  His thumb pushed over her clit.

  The climax hit.

  She grabbed for his broad shoulders as the release blasted through her. Even as her sex contracted, he was there. Not with those long, broad fingers anymore, but with the heavy length of his cock. Driving into her. Plunging deep.

  His neck was inches from her mouth. She had to taste him again. Bloodlust, physical lust, they blurred in her mind and her control fell to the ground. There was no thought. Only need. Hunger that couldn’t be satisfied.

  He pushed into her, not easy or gentle, and she wanted him that way. His hands were around her hips, forcing her into the air so that he supported her body and he drove into her, again and again with thrusts that stole her breath and made her body shudder.

  She clenched her sex around him, squeezing tight.

  “Iona…so good…”

  She’d show him better than good. She let the bite linger, knowing it would bring more pleasure.

  Pleasure. It was what they both wanted. Craved.

  He pulled her away from the wall. Wrapped his arms around her so that he held her fully. And his hips still pumped into her. Wolves…so powerful.

  Another climax hit her, and this one had her crying out as she lifted her mouth from his flesh. Her breath was choked and the pleasure…it was so intense that it almost hurt.

  Her whole body was electrified with feeling. So sensitive that every move of his flesh against hers had Iona tensing.

  Then he shoved boxes off a table top. Put her down over it. Her legs dangled in the air.

  “We aren’t done,” Jamie promised, his voice so dark and deep.

  She wanted to smile. Couldn’t. He’d taken her legs. Hooked them over his shoulders so that she was wide open to him. He took her now, hard and wild, and it was exactly what she wanted. The rush of sensation just wouldn’t stop.

  Iona didn’t care that his claws were out. That they’d slashed across the top of the table. She didn’t care that his eyes glowed or that his cheeks had hollowed, signaling the presence of his
beast.

  She liked the wildness. Wanted it.

  His head lifted. She saw the flash of his fangs. Fangs that were even sharper than her own.

  Blood and sex—that wasn’t just a combination that worked for vampires.

  She turned her head to the side, offering herself to him. Only fair…she’d had her turn.

  He took the spot where her neck curved into her shoulder. His lips closed over the flesh. His teeth pressed lightly into her. It didn’t feel like he was drinking from her though.

  It felt as if he were…claiming her.

  Then he stiffened against her. The hot splash of his release filled her and sent more waves of pleasure pulsing through Iona’s body. Pleasure, life, lust…she wanted it all.

  This wasn’t sleep. Wasn’t death. Wasn’t whatever the hell had happened to her because of Latham.

  Jamie’s body was pressed to hers. Flesh to flesh. He was the man who’d brought her from that nightmare. Who’d freed her. The man who’d just given her the best orgasm—or three—that she could remember having in this century.

  His scent was on her. Her scent was on him. She’d marked him. He’d marked her.

  Her lips began to curl. How perfect.

  Werewolves were always so territorial. So driven by emotions and needs. By rage. By possessiveness.

  Sometimes, their strengths could be weaknesses. Weaknesses that she could use in her battle.

  Her frantic heartbeat began to slow down.

  She stared up at the cracked ceiling above her, and her hands were still locked around Jamie. When she went to Latham, she’d be carrying Jamie’s scent on her. Revenge, step one.

  Not yours, Latham. Never that. Despite what Latham had done to her, she’d escaped. She wasn’t the prisoner in his little trap any longer. Not his plaything for eternity. She was free.

  And she’d just fucked his enemy.

  Payback was coming for Latham, and it had just started…

  Wait until I bring my nightmare to your door. She’d make Latham scream, plead, then…die.

  ***

  “Are the stories true?”

  Iona didn’t glance away from the night sky when Jamie asked the question. She had her back to him. Her legs were drawn up, her arms curled around her knees, and she gazed up at the stars lighting the sky.

  When he’d finally been able to speak—and move—again, he’d gotten her out of that back room. Out of the bar and to a safe place. A safe place that had a good bed and fresh clothing for them both. And more comfortable shoes for her. She’d smiled when he’d given her the shoes. He liked her smile. He liked having sex with her a hell of a lot more.

  Having sex with her…

  Mind-numbing.

  The pleasure had been deeper than anything he’d experienced before, and even now, he wanted her again.

  If the stories were true, he wasn’t the first man to feel this way for her.

  “Which stories do you mean?” Her head tilted back, in what looked like an effort to better see the stars.

  He sighed and eased down beside her. They were at a house Sean had found for him, a little place in the woods, and though Jamie had tried to get her inside the cabin, Iona had insisted on sitting outside. Sitting outside and gazing up at the stars.

  He followed her stare for a moment, then glanced back at her profile. He much preferred that view. “Are you truly the oldest pureblood?” He asked after a moment of just watching her.

  Pureblood…the term for vampires who were born, not made. Most of the vamps populating the world had been made or turned. They were humans who’d been bit, who’d taken vampire blood when they were near death, and who’d been reborn as something more.

  But Iona wasn’t like those other vampires. He caught her left hand. Opened the palm. His enhanced vision easily let him see the small mark in the middle of her palm. Those who were born to the blood often had that mark.

  That mark…and a circle of gold in their eyes.

  Since her eyes were pure gold, the lady more than met that part of the pureblood requirement.

  Her slender shoulders rolled in a little circle. “There could be others out there, probably are. I just haven’t met them.”

  “When were you born?” Jamie pressed.

  Her gaze was still on the stars. “Long before men ever thought they’d travel up there.”

  “Iona…”

  Another little shrug. “Around 600 A.D., give or take a few years.”

  He tried not to let his surprise show.

  “I know, I look good for my age, right?” Her lips had curled into a faint smile.

  Very good.

  He found that he was curious about her. Maybe too curious. “How did you know…what you were?” He’d always known he was a werewolf. When puberty hit, there’d been no surprise when he grew fangs and claws and had the urge to howl at the moon. Surrounded by others of his kind, it had been an easy transition for him.

  “I got the first clue when one of my father’s warriors stabbed me in the heart, tossed my body in a shallow grave, and left me to die.” Her gaze drifted to him. The smile was gone from her face. “Yes, that was my first big clue. He left me to die, only…I didn’t.”

  His hands clenched into fists. “Why did he do that?”

  Her gaze turned back to the stars. “Have they traveled up there? While I was…under…did they travel more to the moon? Maybe to another planet? I’ve seen so much in the years I walked the earth, but I’ve always wanted to go beyond the sky…”

  He caught her hand. Twined his fingers with hers in order to catch Iona’s attention—and just because he wanted to hold her hand. “They’ve sent out robots. Rovers. They captured images of planets and stars. Searched and explored.” Hell, he’d take the woman on a little NASA field trip if she wanted…after they were done with Latham. He’d make sure she learned every advance that had been made in space exploration.

  “It hasn’t changed,” she said, and with her free hand, she pointed to the sky. “Venus waits. Jupiter shines. The constellations are just as they were. Clothes are different. Music. Technology. But up there…it all looks the same to me.”

  He squeezed her fingers. “Why did he stab you?”

  “Because my hair wasn’t gray. Because my skin hadn’t wrinkled. Because I wasn’t bearing children for my husband.”

  Her husband?

  “Did I mention…” Iona murmured, “that my husband was the warrior who stabbed me?”

  Sonofabitch. “No,” Jamie bit out the words, “you didn’t.”

  “Purebloods usually stop aging around twenty-five. Their bodies just…they freeze. I didn’t realize that had happened to me, of course. I learned later that my father and my husband—they thought I was bewitched.” Her lips tightened. “Or that maybe I’d even made a deal with the devil.”

  Blood Queen.

  “When I got out of that grave, I made the mistake of running back to my people for help. You see, I still didn’t get it. I thought my father would help me. I was sure he couldn’t have known what Tylar had done. I was so scared and…” Her stare dipped to Jamie’s throat. “Hungry.”

  Because her vampire side would have kicked in with all of the blood loss she’d suffered.

  “But my father knew. The attack had been his plan. As soon as he saw me, he ordered his guards to prepare the fire.”

  The fire. Jamie found that he couldn’t speak. His hold tightened on her.

  “The guards bound my hands. Tied me to an old, rotting tree…put brush around me, and it was my father…he was the one to bring the first torch to start the blaze.”

  The Blood Queen slaughtered a whole village. That was the tale he knew of Iona’s birth. Whispers had told of a Born Queen who’d been so stricken by bloodlust that she’d turned and attacked every person near her.

  Only the story that Iona told was much different from what he’d heard. Jamie found that he didn’t doubt her account, not for an instant. There was too much pain humming beneath her
words.

  “I begged for help,” she said quietly. Her lips trembled. “So many were gathered around the fire, but no one would step forward to save me. No one.”

  Now her fingers were squeezing his.

  “I’d never known my mother. My father…he’d said that she was attacked by our enemies shortly after my birth. But there were rumors about her. Stories that said my mother could do magic.” Her long hair slid over her shoulders as she turned her head and gazed at him. “That day, I used magic, too. The fire should have consumed me.”

  He knew vampires were particularly susceptible to the flames. Their bodies burned so quickly.

  “But I managed to control the fire. I don’t know if it was my fear or my fury, but…something broke in me and I felt a sure of power.” Her breath sighed out. “I got away. I ran and I ran and then I realized…he’d always hunt me. My father wouldn’t stop searching for me because, to him, I was some kind of—of punishment.”

  “Punishment? For what?” He didn’t understand, but he sure would have enjoyed doling out some justice to her sadistic father.

  “For killing my mother,” Iona said in a soft, sad voice. “Our enemies didn’t kill her. I found out that truth too late. She died by my father’s hand.”

  She’d had one sick bastard of a father. Family. Sometimes, you couldn’t live with them…

  And sometimes you needed to kill them.

  Iona kept talking, and she didn’t try to pull her hand from his.

  Good. He liked holding her palm against his. “My father always wanted immortality. Wanted to rule all the land he could find. He thought my mother could help him, and when she didn’t, he made sure she could never use her magic to help anyone again.”

  He couldn’t believe how dark her origins were. A heavy ache had grown in his chest as he listened to her tale.

  “It was him or me,” she said, and, sure enough, that stubborn chin of hers kicked up. “I knew it, so I went back to my father’s land. I slipped inside and made my way up to kill him.”

  And she had. He knew that, at least, this part of her legend was true.

  “I had my knife at his throat, but I couldn’t do it.” Her head sagged a bit, as if she were shamed by the memory.