by Dena Christy
“Yes,” he said, his voice assuring. He pulled back to look at her, his hand smoothing her wet hair away from her face.
“Make love to me, Eric,” she said as she pressed her lips against his neck, tasting his warm skin with her mouth. She felt the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed and his penis jumped against her hip. His hands were firm when he eased her away.
“We can’t do this. You’ve been through too much tonight, and you’re hurt.”
“I want you, Eric. I’ve wanted you the night we met, and I wanted you this morning. I don’t want to fight it anymore,” she whispered as she looked into his eyes. She could see the heat burning in their gray depths, could feel how much he wanted her when his desire caused a spike in her blood.
“Baby, I want you too, more than I’ve ever wanted any other woman. But you’re vulnerable right now, and I can’t take advantage of that. I don’t want you to regret this in the morning.”
“I won’t regret this. Please give me something good out of this horrible night. I need this. I need you to take the pain away, to help heal me and make me stronger,” she said, her eyes pleading with him as she stroked her hand down his face. He caught her wrist, pressing the palm of her hand against his mouth. The muscle in his jaw jumped as he eased her hand away, and she could see he still struggled to give in to what they both needed.
“This isn’t a good idea. I can’t protect you.”
“You can’t get me pregnant, Eric. I’m infertile with anyone who isn’t a demon or fully human. I’m also immune to disease, so it’s safe for us to be together.”
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his hand running up and down the arm he still held. She eased back to pull off the towel she was still wrapped in. Her hands slid up over the firm muscles of his shoulders, around his neck to tunnel her fingers through his damp hair.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Make love to me, Eric.”
His forehead came down to rest on hers, and Samara’s eyes slid closed. His warm breath fanned against her face, coming closer to her mouth. When she thought she couldn’t handle the anticipation of his touch any longer, she felt the sweep of his tongue along her bottom lip. Samara’s breath shuddered in and out of her body, mingling with his before he pressed his mouth fully to hers and kissed her.
Her fingers tightened in his hair, the warm scent that was uniquely him enveloping her as his mouth moved on hers. Her focus narrowed to center on his mouth. Her fears, her panic, her doubts about herself faded under the intensity of his kiss. His tongue swept inside her mouth, sliding erotically against hers as his hand traversed the side of her face. He rolled her fully onto her back, partially pressing her body into the mattress. The world retreated, and he was the only inhabitant in her life at this moment, the only one who mattered.
She didn’t know what magic he possessed to make her desire him more than any other. From the moment she’d met him, there was something about him which called to her, made her lose control. She could feel the iron grip she always held over herself slipping away and she didn’t care. Tonight she’d faced her own death, and now she wanted to celebrate life with him. Only him. No other man existed before him, and none would exist for her after.
Her hands went to his chest and around his back as she clasped him to her. He nibbled on her lower lip, and her tongue darted out to stroke over his lips. He growled at her, and she laughed at the shiver the sound gave her.
His lips left hers to trail down her throat. She trembled when his mouth reached where her shoulder joined her neck and he took a gentle bite of her flesh. She cried out at the small dart of pleasure that went through her all the way down to her feet and made her toes curl inward. His mouth eased down her skin, moving inch by slow delicious inch. She had a feeling he was going to take his time and make it last, and she didn’t know if she could handle it with her sanity intact.
His tongue swirled over her skin, getting closer to her breast. As if from a distance she heard her breath hiss through her teeth, her focus solely on his mouth as it descended the slope of her breast. She swallowed hard when her nipple crinkled into a hard peak, begging for his mouth. His tongue stroked her, moving closer, but not quite taking her in his mouth. She was dying for him to suck her.
“Please, Eric…” she begged as she arched closer to him. She tilted her head down to look at him, seeing a small grin playing about his lips as his tongue swiped against her nipple.
“Please what? What do you want?” he asked, his breath skating across her breast, cooling her flesh. She shuddered as her nipple grew impossibly tight.
“You know what I want. Stop teasing me and take my nipple in your mouth…” Her voice deserted her when he did as she instructed. Her agony temporarily relieved, she arched up to offer herself fully to him. His hand caressed her other breast, and her head fell back, a long moan escaping her.
As a succubus she had thought she knew all there was to know about sex, knew every emotion and impulse that went along with it, how to exploit it to her advantage. But desire on this level had never entered into the equation in the past; what he was making her feel was completely foreign to her. She wanted him, craved him like a junkie, and couldn’t get enough. She wanted to be as intimate with him as possible, wanted nothing to separate them. Not the mission, not the coldness he cloaked himself in, nor the secrets she hid from him. She wanted to crawl inside his body, to be one with him. Her hips shifted on the bed as her body tried to tell him what she wanted.
“It’s too soon for that. I’m going to enjoy you for hours,” he said as he pulled away from her breast. He eased back onto his knees and pulled away the towel that hung halfway off his hips, throwing it carelessly to the floor. She lifted her head and looked at him, trying to communicate with her eyes the desire building inside her.
Her eyes ran greedily over his body. He was so firmly muscled, and she knew he was capable of great strength. That he touched her with gentleness when he could easily crush her was what moved her, made her want to be with him.
She reached up to caress his chest, the soft downy hair covering him tickling her palm. She sat up, leaning forward to trace the outline of his nipple with her tongue. He tasted salty, and she could feel his hands threading through her hair as he cradled her to him. She bit his nipple and flicked it with her tongue. The hissing sound of his breath made her look up and she could see the muscles in his face pulled tight with the depth of his arousal. She unconsciously licked her lips, savoring the taste of him on her skin as his eyes followed her movement, his expression growing fierce.
Her hand moved over the chiseled muscles of his abdomen as she lay back on the bed. A low moan escaped him and his body quivered when she circled his navel with her thumb.
The desire radiating from him brought hers to a fever pitch. She watched him lower his head to kiss the flesh of her belly. The light beside the bed glowed a little brighter and she trembled when his tongue circled her belly button. Her senses were heightened, her skin so sensitive that each touch was an agony she didn’t want to stop. She was glad she couldn’t use her powers to enthrall him. What he felt for her was real.
His hands skimmed the inside of her thighs as he eased her legs apart. His mouth moved over her tummy to her hip bone, his tongue circling the skin on her leg as he made his way to the inside of her thigh. He nibbled on the tender skin he found there, and he appeared in no hurry to kiss her more intimately.
Samara thought she would combust with frustrated desire if he didn’t take her with his mouth soon. Then he was there, where she wanted and needed him most, and she felt like a bolt of lightning was shooting through her body.
She cried out his name as she cradled his head in her hands, unaware of anything but the feel of his mouth on her body. The motel could have collapsed around her and she wouldn’t have cared.
The tension built, coiling inside her as his tongue stroked her delicate flesh. She was vaguely aware of the light by the bed getting brighte
r. The force of her desire was such that for a moment she wanted to escape it. It was too intense and unlike anything she’d ever known. He held her gently as he continued to torture her.
Her climax caused such a surge of power through her that the light by the bed exploded. She lay there, trembling with the force of her orgasm as wave after wave of it flooded her body.
Her senses slowly returned when she felt Eric sliding up her body until his face was level with hers.
“What’s with the light?” he asked, his voice rumbling deep in his chest as he settled fully on top of her.
“Power surge,” she said, trying to catch her breath. She moaned when he slid inside her, filling her.
“I’m not hurting you, am I?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“God no. You feel so good,” she whispered as she slid her legs up his, rocking her hips, encouraging him to move.
He braced himself above her on his arms as he pulled almost all the way out and slid back inside. She rolled her hips beneath him and they created delicious friction together.
Their movements were slow at first, increasing in speed to keep pace with the desire burning within them. They loved each other for long minutes, lost in a world of their own making, until neither could hold back their passion for each other. Samara climaxed once more, and Eric followed swiftly after, crying out her name. He collapsed on top of her, and she slid her arms and legs around him. She cradled him against her body as their hearts pounded in unison together.
After several long moments, Eric eased himself out of her body and rolled onto his side to lie beside her, holding her against him. His hand smoothed her hair and he cradled her head against his chest, making her feel cherished.
“I didn’t hurt your arm, did I?”
“No, it was wonderful. You were wonderful,” she said, feeling boneless lying next to him. Making love with Eric made her feel complete in a way she’d never expected. He’d been so tender, so concerned for her pleasure. Her eyes drifted closed as she luxuriated in the warmth of his embrace.
Eric pulled the covers over them both. He turned her on her side away from him and pulled her back against his body, cocooning her. She felt safe and warm and it wasn’t long before she fell asleep.
ERIC OPENED his eyes the next morning and looked at the woman curled up on the bed beside him. His mind raced over the events of last night. Making love to Samara had been a revelation. He hadn’t experienced anything quite like it before. He could see clearly now that the sexual encounters he’d experienced in the past has been soulless couplings, a satisfying of a physical need. With Samara he felt a connection as she shared her beautiful body with him. He’d been terrified of hurting her, causing him to be much more tender than he’d ever been in the past. He considered himself a hard man, uncaring of the feelings of other, but with her he wanted to be a better man.
When he’d come back from killing Gordon last night, he’d felt a momentary panic when he saw she wasn’t on the bed. Fear raced through him when for a moment he thought someone had taken her. The sound of the shower sent relief clamoring through him and he’d gone to the bathroom to join her. The sight of her fear, the sound of her crying against his chest when he held her, had torn him apart. He’d wanted for a moment for Gordon to be alive, so he could torture him, rip his limbs from his body, to punish him for what he’d done to his woman.
His woman. Eric savored the thought, for that was what she felt like to him. His woman, and for however long this thing between them lasted he would hold her to him, protect her, keep her safe from all who tried to harm her. Holding her against him last night had felt completely foreign to him, but right at the same time. He wasn’t one for cuddling, he wasn’t built to want to indulge in tender feelings. He’d never seen the point in ruining a perfectly good fuck with the lovey-dovey shit afterward. Even with Chelsea he’d barely tolerated holding her afterward, and only did it because she seemed to want it. When he’d eased out of Samara last night, intent on moving away from her, he’d found he couldn’t. His arms craved to hold her, the warmth of her body against him easing something deep inside him.
Not wanting to analyze what that meant, he stroked her hair back from her face as she slept beside him. He wanted to reach for her, to take her again, to lose himself inside her, but decided to leave her alone. She’d been through a tremendous ordeal last night, and it would take her a while to recover her strength. He rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom.
Trying to be as quiet as possible after showering and brushing his teeth so as not to wake her, he dressed quickly. As he headed out the door he decided to see if he could get some coffee at the motel office.
The moment he opened the door he caught the scent of the wolf who’d been watching him last night. It wasn’t particularly strong, so Eric knew he’d been there at some point during the night, but it was around their motel room door. He quickly backed up into the room and closed the door. A low growl escaped his throat before he could hold it back. Was this prick someone associated with Gordon? And why didn’t he confront them directly, instead of watching from a distance? He almost seemed to be taunting Eric with his presence by refusing to reveal himself.
They had to leave quickly, for the sake of Samara’s safety while she was still weak from her attack. It went against everything inside him to run from an enemy, for he’d faced those who sought to harm him in the past with strength and an unshakable will. He’d never backed down from a fight before in his life and it was galling to have to start now. If he’d been alone he would have gone on the attack and tracked the wolf down until he found him. But he had Samara to think about, she couldn’t stand the stress of a hunt after all she’d been through last night.
He went over to the bed and gently shook her shoulder to wake her. His hand drew back sharply when he felt how hot she was. Her skin was burning with fever.
“Oh Christ, baby, don’t do this,” he said as he went to her bag to get her some clothes. He threw the garments on the bed and tried again to shake her awake, being careful not to jostle her wound. She slowly opened her eyes; they were glassy and he could see she had trouble focusing on him.
“We have to get out of here. I’m going to help you to the bathroom so you can get ready. I can stay in there with you if you don’t think you can manage the shower.” Eric helped her into a sitting position and had to hold her limp body steady until she could support herself unassisted. Anxiety tied his stomach into a tight knot.
“I’m really hot. Why am I so hot?” she asked, her voice sounding heartbreakingly weak.
“I think you’ve developed a fever. We don’t have time to get into it right now. I need you to be strong and get ready to go. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” she said as she got out of bed. When she swayed on her feet Eric quickly reached out to steady her. She yanked her arm out of his grasp and scowled at him. Her movements were unsteady as she made her way to the bathroom with her clothes tucked under her arm. The bathroom door slammed shut behind her.
Eric added the grumpiness to the list of symptoms he had going around in his head. He had a feeling he knew what was wrong with her, but he dismissed the thought as soon as it came into his head. He told himself he didn’t have time to speculate about something that most likely wasn’t true.
He went out to the car and grabbed the map Rowan kept in the glove box. He returned to the room and spread the map on the bed; it took only moments to find the route he was looking for. They were going to make a detour, and delay their arrival at the compound. At this point getting Samara well was paramount to him. He needed to get somewhere safe, where they could lie low. It was a good idea considering how sick she was, not to mention they had to get away from the wolf who was watching them.
His father had an isolated cabin about five hours north of where they were. It would be the best place to hole up while Samara recovered from her injury.
Eric folded up the map, becoming aware that the shower had shut off, but Samar
a failed to appear. Stuffing the map in his pocket, he walked to the bathroom and opened the door. Samara sat on the closed lid of the toilet, a towel haphazardly wrapped around her. She was rubbing her injured arm as she turned her head to look up weakly at him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, dread unfurling in his stomach, fearing he already knew the answer. It was another symptom of a disease that had no cure and he prayed she was not plagued with it.
“My arm is burning. I don’t understand. I should have healed more than this overnight, but the wound is still the same.”
“I need to ask you something,” Eric said as he drew her to her feet. He dried her skin and helped her get dressed as he spoke. “Are you certain your father was human?”
“I’m positive. My mother spent most of my short time with her lamenting the fact that she’d produced a mixed breed child with a human. What does that have to do with anything?”
“We need to go,” he said as he took her to the other room and sat her down on the bed. He could see what little energy she had drain away from her. Grabbing the bags, he instructed her to stay where she was while he sprinted out the door to stow their luggage in the truck. He came back to her, scooping her up in his arms. He hoped it was is over-active imagination that made her feel so fragile in his arms. “We’ll talk in the car. We need to get out of here first.”
Eric carried her to the SUV and gently settled her in the passenger seat, making sure her seatbelt was secured around her. He closed the door and locked it before turning to go to the motel office to pay the bill. He charged over to the desk, tersely giving his information and paid the bill, impatient with the clerk’s impersonal chatter. He growled his thanks as he took his receipt and ran out the door.
Settling in the driver side of the truck, Eric glanced at Samara. She was leaning with her head against the window, the lashes of her closed eyes resting against the purple shadows under them. He started the engine, unable to wrap his head around what he knew in his heart was happening to her.