by Ann Cory
She pressed into him tightly. Through the fabric of her shirt, the hardened peaks of her nipples abraded his chest. He inhaled deeply. Her heady scent infused his senses. It was obvious she was aroused, and more than responsive to his touch. It would be easy to take her. Have his way and finish with a long, slow drink.
Beautiful had placed herself closer to danger than she realized.
He swept her hair from her shoulder and eyed the delicate slope of her neck, its alabaster hue. Perfect. Rook buried his face there and inhaled the fragrance of her skin. Her hair stroked his face like threads of silk. He could stay in this moment for an eternity.
His body craved the brutality of her pureness inside. She’d stirred an appetite he’d long since tamed, taunted him with her warm, mortal blood. One drop—that’s all he wanted. Too much and he’d kill her for sure. One drop to savor on the tip of his tongue and ingrain in his memory forever. Just enough to suppress the desire she’d ignited inside him.
He pressed his lips against her ear. Felt her sink further into him. The heat from her body wrapped around him and triggered an erection.
Get a grip.
He couldn’t afford to lose control. Rook reminded himself again that she was the enemy.
Quit stalling. Bite her. She means nothing.
Why did he hesitate? He opened his mouth and zeroed in on the sweet spot of her neck he knew would taste divine.
A sharp, blinding pain ripped through his body and he jerked back stunned.
Ember’s eyes had been closed, her face soft with desire, but they flashed open. He watched her eyes search his for a reason why he reacted the way he did.
“What’s the matter?”
He had no explanation, but he wanted to find one.
Rook shook his head and embraced her. Again, he tried to sink his fangs into her neck, only this time his lips met fire. Enraged, he pulled away.
He’d have to take the stone without biting her. Somehow the moonstone protected her from his bite. In a way it made sense. The witch likely safeguarded herself in case Faolan lost control when they were intimate. So why would Ember—a human—be affected the same way as a witch?
Unless she is a witch?
She stared at him with her luminous eyes. A pale blush streaked her face. “I don’t understand. Is something wrong?”
“No,” he grumbled and moved away from her.
Rook raked a hand through his hair. Everything was wrong. Slade was his intended victim. He hadn’t counted on a woman of unsurpassed beauty to stand in his way. She held a powerful stone that she seemed hell-bent on keeping for herself. The same stone he needed, but seemed unable to get. And now he had to entertain the theory she had some witch blood in her with the way the stone protected her. He should never have let her live so long. He should never have let her feminine charms seduce him from his loyalties. There wasn’t any excuse for why he hadn’t killed her. At least none that sat well with him. The sooner he got the moonstone away from her, the sooner he’d be done with her.
***
Ember’s body trembled. Dark and deadly had been close to kissing her. Twice. She’d felt his hot breath against her skin, full lips against her neck. Even the moonstone had reacted to his touch, nearly scorching her.
Both times he’d changed his mind—though probably for the best. She shouldn’t want him anywhere near her.
But I do want him.
She watched him pace. Long strides that showed his muscle definition against the tight pants he wore. Instead of worrying over what he might do to her, she imagined his face buried between her thighs. Ravishing her with the same kind of passion he put into being irate. The thought of his mouth anywhere on her body kept her in a permanent state of need. She had the soaked panties to prove it. Even the deep vibrations of his voice excited her.
That’s it, she was going mad. Why would she want a man who meant to kill her? When the rogue spies had come and he’d embraced her, his touch had roused sensations she’d thought were permanently dormant.
She’d become a pro at distancing herself and shutting off all emotions. Both were necessary in her work as a healer to stay focused on the patient. But when Rook touched her, really touched her, she felt it deep down in her soul.
It was clear by his incessant rambling as he paced that he warred with himself over her, and she hoped it had everything to do with not wanting to cause her harm. She couldn’t fault him for loyalty to his leader and clan. If she hadn’t come to rely so much on the moonstone to keep her strong, she’d give it up. The stone made her believe there was more to her than being an empath. It’s not like there was a voice that spoke to her or shared its secrets. The stone infused her thoughts and gave her clarity. At any cost, she needed to stand her ground, or she’d end up like Faolan.
Aware she should flee rather than dangle herself like a worm on a hook, she approached Rook. “Are you done brooding?”
The look he threw her packed a punch. She’d lose the attitude, pronto.
“Sorry,” she said, and meant it.
Ember studied his face, now set in the same scowl she’d first been introduced to. Why was he always so full of angst? Mr. Mad at the World.
A balmy wind moved through the rainforest and rustled the vampire’s hair, exposing an odd shaped mark on his neck.
“Is that a scar?”
He nodded.
“It looks like the number—”
“Seven,” he finished. “Yes, I know.”
The vein in his forehead throbbed. Clearly he didn’t want to talk about it. She racked her brain to come up with another topic, but she kept coming right back to his scar.
Damn her curiosity. “Why a seven? Does it have to do with your clan?”
His expression hardened. “I was sold to a child trader when I was a boy. I was the seventh slave out of fifty that day. I guess they worried I’d forget my number so they branded me with a hot iron.”
Ember winced and felt bad for bringing it up. No wonder the guy had issues. “That’s terrible. You must have been terrified.”
He shrugged. “I don’t recall the pain anymore. I hardly remember anything about it.”
She found that hard to believe. “It’s obvious the painful memory still exists inside you.”
Like a magnet, the scar drew her need to heal. She wanted to take away the hurt. Allow him the freedom to move on.
Hand raised, she reached forward.
Midway, he snatched her wrist like a snake. “Don’t.”
His eyes turned dark, piercing and almost hypnotic.
She refused to fear him. He could raise his voice, growl and send her a fierce look, but it still made her melt. His grip tightened. Was this his way of saying she’d gone too far?
Her mind shouted for him to let go of her, but her body wanted to be open, alive and at the mercy of his touch.
“I only wanted to help.”
The pressure of his grip lessened but still he held her.
He leaned in—a hairsbreadth away.
“Then let me taste you,” he whispered.
In response, she tilted her chin upward and welcomed the crush of his mouth.
If he were any other man, any other stranger, she’d have pushed him away by now. No, scratch that, she’d never have let a stranger get this close. Rook was different. She wanted his darkness. His lethal attraction.
The kiss deepened, turned primal. Became urgent. Ember parted her lips and felt his hot breath fill her. His taste was addictive. All dark, hot and spicy. Though her body was tight up against him, she couldn’t seem to get close enough. She wanted to tear her clothes off and beg him to fulfill any carnal desire he’d ever had.
His hand trailed along her back and rested at the base of her neck. He scraped his tongue against her teeth and claimed her mouth repeatedly.
Her pulse thundered. Being near him intensified her emotions for him.
Slowly, she felt his lips part from her, bringing her back down to earth. He’d left her n
early breathless, and longing for more.
As he pulled away a sly smile bowed his lips.
A warning bell went off in her head.
She followed her instincts and dipped her gaze to his hand.
In his hand he held the moonstone.
Ember choked back a sob.
“It’s nothing personal,” he said with slight sarcasm.
Bastard.
“No, I guess not.”
He’d used her to get the stone back. Well screw him. She wouldn’t let him get to her.
“You mortals and your need for materialistic things.”
His thoughtless words stung. “You don’t know anything. Not about me.”
“Maybe not,” he retorted, “but it’s best this way. I’m saving you from a painful death.”
“My hero,” she replied dryly.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make it quick. You’ll hardly feel a thing.”
The guy had a way of muddling her thoughts with or without words.
“You’ll make what quick?” Silence followed, allowing her enough time to figure it out on her own. Here she thought he meant saving her from the vampires by taking the moonstone. But no. He’d save her in the end by killing her first. “You have what you came for. Can’t you just leave me alone?”
“I’m concerned you know things from the stone. I have reason to believe you have witch blood in you.”
Ember held her palms out. “No secrets have been revealed to me. I assure you. You said you’d protect me from the rogue vampires. But what I really need is protection from you.”
His shoulders raised and lowered. “I’m doing you a favor. They’ll track you. Right now you’re a mortal compass leading them to your slaughter. At the same time your scent is ripe on the moonstone. Once I take this back to my clan, they’ll want to hunt you as well. You’re out of choices. Out of time.”
Moments ago she’d almost convinced herself that she cared for him. Now she hated him. “Let them come. I’m not afraid.”
He frowned. “You should be terrified.”
“I’ll take my chances,” she said under her breath.
Rook rushed right up in her face. “Are you aware of what a mortal scent does to a vampire?”
She refused to look at him. “No.”
“I’ll tell you. It strips away all sense of control. It reduces us to mere shadows of ourselves. It triggers our sexual appetite and fills our heads with sensual thoughts. It awakens every sensation we’ve ever had and swirls around our guts until we find a way to squelch it. Mortals are dangerous. You are dangerous. We’ve worked too hard to get our cravings under control and I’m not going to allow you to live while your sweet scent brings disorder to my clan.”
Ember caught most of what he said. His voice faded in and out while he spoke. She guessed it was the effects of the stone’s absence from her body. Her legs had weakened. Exhaustion hit her in violent waves. She needed to get the moonstone back. If she planned to fight him off, she needed all her strength. This wasn’t how she wanted to die. She’d pictured a peaceful death. With minimal pain and surrounded by honeysuckles.
She stared at Rook from beneath the veil of her lashes. Amazed he could be so savage and desirable at the same time. She wanted to loathe him for leading her on, but couldn’t ignore the way his kiss had ignited a fire in her belly. To think otherwise would make her a liar. If he could kiss her to get the moonstone, she could use the same strategy to get it back.
At this point she had nothing left to lose.
Ember took a deep breath in. “I guess there’s no getting around the inevitable. I’m a danger to you and vampires everywhere. You do what you have to do.”
“That’s a girl. I knew you’d come around.”
The enthusiasm in his voice made her stomach clench.
“Yeah,” she grumbled. “You called it.”
He put his hands on her shoulders, and though she loathed him, he still made her body tingle.
“I never intended to bring you harm. You were thrust into something you never should’ve been involved in.” For once he sounded genuine.
“Chalk it up to poor timing on my part.” She moistened her lips. “There’s one thing you could do to help ease the pain. If it’s not too much trouble.”
“What’s that?”
“Kiss me. Call it a souvenir—something to take into the next life.”
He paused, his eyes fixed on hers.
“You want me to kiss you?”
“Please?” She batted her lashes, hoping it would get him to cave.
Rook shrugged. “I suppose I could.”
He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. It was a soft kiss, but nice still the same.
Ember savored it and his taste. Wanting to lock it away in her memory forever. Regardless of what might happen, a part of her would love him. The moonstone had shown her what it could be like. But they were from two different worlds, and it was just plain impossible.
She brought her hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. Slowly, she smoothed her hand along his shoulder, down his impeccable muscles and paused at his forearm. She went to kiss him deep when he broke away abruptly.
His eyes blazed.
“I’ll not be baited by a mortal.”
She trembled. “I’m not baiting you.”
“You tried to get close to me so you could snatch the moonstone.”
He should know.
“Sound familiar?”
“Don’t you value life?” he snarled.
Ember couldn’t believe her ears. “You’re asking me—a healer—if I value life?”
“I’m not talking about other people’s lives. I mean yours. You’re careless and that’s why you’re trouble.”
She’d always considered herself level-headed. Now she was careless. Much had changed in a day. He was right, though.
“I agree. I should value my life more. I came here to find myself.” She paused to take a breath. Even more energy had been sapped from her. “See, my life has been about what I can do for others. Help them heal so they can move on, all the while ignoring my own needs. I’ve never been selfish once in my whole life, and this one time I want to be, you ruin it.”
She had no idea where that had come from. Perhaps the threat of death had helped loosen her lips.
His expression softened. “I’m sorry. I thought you were trying to take back the stone. I overreacted. Much as I want to, I can’t kiss you again.”
“That’s a shame. I liked it.”
“I never said I didn’t. Regardless, it doesn’t change what I have to do.”
In that moment, she decided she couldn’t take hearing another threat from him. He’d won. He had the moonstone and though he’d never know it, he had her heart. She was done fighting. If she had a white flag, she’d wave it.
“You know what,” she started. “I surrender. Kill me. Get it over with. I’m tired. I feel older beyond my years. The thrill of life left me a long time ago.”
The trees in the distance swayed. Or was it her? Ember tried to take a step and felt her legs go out from under her.
Chapter Four
Rook caught her and carried her to the blanket.
He checked her pulse. It beat faint and slow. The pallor of her skin resembled Faolan’s the last time he’d seen him.
“Ember?”
Confused by her unresponsiveness, he didn’t know what to do. Maybe the heat had been too much? He didn’t know why he cared. Now that she didn’t have the moonstone he could bite her. Drain every last drop. And she wouldn’t even know.
He leaned in and grazed a fang along her neck.
Enough.
Rook bolted up. He couldn’t do it. His desire to kill her had waned.
He had the moonstone. He had what he’d come for.
He trailed his fingers along her cheek. He’d never felt skin so soft. She looked peaceful with her lips twitching and lashes stirring. He’d been unprepared to meet such a divine and complex creat
ure. She’d succeeded in frustrating him and winning him over at the same time.
Here she was slipping away and now he figured out that he cared for her. What an idiot he was.
She stirred and he fell back on his ass. Heat fanned his face and shoulders as he stood and brushed himself off. Now was his chance to leave. Before she woke. He could get the moonstone back to Faolan, as he’d originally intended, and start on damage control within the clans. She didn’t need him to bully her anymore.
Rook started to walk away, but each step got heavier. He made the mistake of looking back. She lay so still. This woman who healed others before herself. She deserved more. He wouldn’t leave her. Not this way. Not to the rogue vampires, the elements or any other creature that might be lurking.
She was safe as long as he was with her.
He stood over her. Protecting her. Nothing would bring her harm.
To his relief, her eyes fluttered open.
Quickly, he crouched beside her.
“Are you okay?”
She attempted to sit up. When he went to help she pushed his arm away and lay back down.
“Why did you stay?” she snapped.
Torn, he could only shrug. “I don’t know.”
“Is this an ego thing where you want to be the one to finish me off?”
“No,” he all but shouted. “It’s nothing like that.”
“Take the stone and go. I’ll deal with whatever comes my way. I’m good as dead anyway.”
Rook shuddered at the rawness of her words. “Don’t say that.” He felt her cheeks and forehead. There was no mistaking the discoloration of her skin. “You’re feverish and much too pale. Something’s wrong.”
She diverted her gaze elsewhere. “It’s not your concern. You have to kill me, remember?”
“Stop, okay? Just stop.” He hated to hear his threats come from her mouth. “I happen to care about you. I sense you’re holding something back and I can’t figure out why. Earlier you were so vibrant and strong. There was this luminous glow about you.”
“I’m sick.” She sighed. “All the healing I’ve done has drained me.”
“How?”
“By not taking care of myself.”
He wanted to understand. “But how can you become sick by helping others?”