by Multiple
“Trinity!”
She gasped, feeling as if someone had punched her, and she might be seeing a hallucination. She clenched her eyes closed, and then opened them again. Trinity, her husband, still stood there, not five steps from her.
His dark-streaked blonde hair hung loose in a chopped mass to his shoulders. His chin was shadowed with the beginning of a beard and his irises, which went from blue to black in her memory, were startling and intense dark sapphire. His clothing looked disheveled and he had no jacket on. She remembered she had his jacket and she could hardly believe he’d not replaced it within the amount of time they’d been apart.
She looked at the moors, then she looked back at him in the dwindling twilight. “Are you really here?” She barely breathed. Her words seemed to break some type of command he was held to, because he started to walk slowly toward her.
She should have cried out asking him why he was there. She might have even thought of running, but the look on his features held her suspended. He looked powerful, as though some dominating purpose was upon him, and the painful truth inside her was she didn’t want to run away.
She wanted him.
The tension grew taut between them. His boots stopped at her skirts and his gaze invaded hers. She never saw his hand lifting when suddenly she sucked in a deep breath from the feel of his fingers grasping her wrist. The tension snapped between them and her breath seemed to come in short bursts.
“Trinity?” she whispered the question, lost in his gaze.
His gaze turned, loosening the tension, but not breaking it, and her arm lifted as he brought her wrist to his lips. His dark eyes lingered on her pale wrist as he turned it toward his mouth. Her breath held as his mouth lowered. At the last second, his gaze lifted to hers as his lips pressed against the veins in her wrist.
She remembered Fanton for an unsettled moment, but the thought scattered quickly beneath heady seduction. Her entire body nearly craved for Trinity to take her blood, until her lips parted with the thought to beg him for it as he looked at her, while holding his mouth to her veins, silently tempting, but controlling himself.
Ever so slowly in their trance, he lifted his lips from her wrist. Never breaking his gaze from hers as his free hand clasped the side of her chin and neck. Her eyes pleaded with him for what she could only imagine, while his gaze slid past hers to her neck as he turned her chin with pressure from his fingers. Her breath began to come in large gulps, lifting her chest and she felt rather than saw the impression of his lips caressing the side of her throat.
A moan that surprised and confused her slipped from her mouth. Trinity’s lip stilled at the sound; his entire body seemed to harden. She didn’t dare move besides the pounding of her heartbeat, as pressures inside her body turned tight with aching. Suddenly, his tongue slid slowly along her supplicated throat and she gasped, clutching his shoulders.
“Beth.” His breath vibrated on her flesh and she knew the yearning aches building inside her were womanly desires.
The touch of his mouth left her and his fingers stopped clasping her chin. She felt his body move and she turned her head to look up at him. He stood a pace away from her, looking out into the deep glomming seeping upon the moors. Strands of his hair fluttered in the breeze.
“This is a witchy place,” he said, looking out into the falling nightscape. He’d come to her without her begging, she thought. She’d left him and left him the choice … and he’d come to her wild yet tame, dark yet noble. “Vampires cannot abide the scent of garlic.” His voice sounded rough and he didn’t turn his gaze. “We cannot accept the touch of silver or holy water.”
“Trinity,” she whispered with a question on her breath.
His gaze turned to hers, but he continued over her. “The blessed water, because we are damned.” He spoke without infliction. She wanted to raise her voice and deny his claim of being damned, yet his deep tone persisted. “The only way to kill me is by decapitating me. Any other harm, by sword, knife, pistol; any injury on my body will be regenerated within days.”
An exclamation rose from her throat of strong disbelief, of denial. “How can that be?” she exclaimed, and she began to turn away from him, but he grasped her arms, halting her.
“Because I am a vampire.” His words were forceful and laden with truth. “It’s true, maiden; I drink blood for food … nothing else. At times I am a monster.”
“Do not say that!” she cried, trying to break his hold, but he pulled her against his unyielding, muscular body.
Trinity felt every opulent curve of Beth’s body pressed against him as he held her struggles under control. He wanted the temptations of feeling her so he could strengthen his willpower and prove he was in control of his beast. Yet he knew what a fragile hold that was at times. Recent events irrevocably proved that to him. So now he needed Beth to know all the risks and what safeguards he could share with her, whether she wished to hear them or not, or whether she wished to believe them or not. Nevertheless, he was amazed she was so vehemently against him calling himself a monster. Something in what soul he possessed clenched, then hoped she was right.
“I am warning you, girl.” His voice and face were fierce. “You have to help me,” he rasped, and her struggles suddenly lapsed at his plea for help.
Her small chin rose. “I will listen and learn, Trinity. But do not call yourself a monster again,” she insisted.
He didn’t agree or disagree with her; he pressed on, “A wooden stake thrust into our chests will slow us down, incapacitate many vampires for days. Only the strongest vampire can be staked and keep moving.”
“Strongest?” she asked.
His hand lifted, slowly caressing the side of her cheek. “For our purposes, I will have a stake made that you can keep with you,” he paused and made certain he had her eye contact. “So that you can stake me, if I become uncontrolled.”
“Trinity, no.” She jerked against him. She brought her hands up to push on his chest. “This is enough. I won’t listen to this,” she exclaimed. “Let me go!” Trinity released Beth, watching her raise her hands to her ears, shaking her head as she backed away from him. “No more,” she said with tears coloring her words.
He turned his back to her. Her words streamed through his mind. She beseeched him not to call himself a monster. She was young, innocent, and he was cruel to press on her such abhorrent realities. His gaze trailed back to her, and he saw that her hands had fallen to her sides as tears sparkled on her cheeks.
“Why have you come back to me?” she asked. Her voice was filled with hurt. “Was it just to tell me these things? They have no meaning if we are not together.” Her eyes widened when she realized the implication of her statement.
Feelings of confusion and despair choked him. How could he accept them … together? He was vampire; she was human. He had no right to think she would want to … but he felt as if he couldn’t survive without her now. At the same time, he feared the beast inside him that claimed her as his. The burden and piercing ache lanced through him as he slowly sank to his knees beneath the weight. He bowed.
“Trinity,” Beth cried and he hardly dared believe she was there … kneeling beside him. He felt her body embrace his desolate one. Her hand stroked back his hair. “I’m so naive,” she hissed. “I’ll do better. I swear it. Please let me help you.” Her voice was fierce and he felt her lips brush his jawbone. A shudder pitched through him.
“Something’s happened since our vows,” he uttered. “I was determined to stay away from you. For your own wellbeing. But, I … damnation,” he cursed, his fists clenched. “I can’t.”
“Trinity, look at me.” Her small hands pressed his face, relenting when he didn’t give in, then she pressed again. He turned his head toward her, his gaze no higher than her blush-red lips. “I don’t want you to.” Her voice was soft and alluring. “I don’t want you to stay away from me.”
His jaw tensed with his voice a harsh rasp, “You don’t understand the risks.”
It was at that moment he realized he wasn’t alone in his desire. She felt something between them also … higher than the unexplainable demand for his blood or his allure as a vampire.
“Beth.” He turned toward her, pulling her against his chest to embrace her. His hand found the thickness of her black hair pulled into a bun at her nape and his fingers tunneled through it to find her skull. Her face turned up to his and he guided it with his fingers at the back of her head as he lowered his mouth over her lips. His arm wound strong across the back of her waist, pulling her tight against his body as their lips fitted together. His fangs instantly wanted to join the attraction, extending.
“Careful.” He pulled his mouth back.
“No,” Beth exclaimed softly, grabbing his hair with fingers burrowed in the heavy strands to pull his mouth back to hers “I feel them, Trinity.” Her lips pressed to his. “You’ll be careful,” she assured him with the words spoken against his mouth.
The faith she attributed to him was amazing and he instantly wanted to fulfill her trust. He felt his resolve strengthen against the wildness he held contained. The heat of their mouths warmed and grew hotter.
Chapter Twenty
Beth was naive to kissing; he could feel it when she fumbled the rhythm and he had to mold her lips, bringing her back. It excited him. He was the first to feel her fledgling passions and she eagerly followed his mouth. Her ripe curves flowed in his arms, making him want to tear her clothes away and sculpt her lush body with his hands. His thickening erection pressed into the cove between her thighs, their clothes no barrier to the heat he could feel. He noticed her heart beating, her blood flowing, and her veins pulsating. He snarled deep in his throat demanding that part of his lust … back … off.
Beth mewled weakly as his snarl vibrated their passionately kissing lips. He’d frightened her. He tore his lips from her mouth on a hard pant. He throbbed. God, his fangs throbbed. It wasn’t for food. It was more carnal than that. Beth’s lips fell to his throat and he could feel her erratic breathing.
“I need.” His voice was hoarse.
Beth’s rich curves shifted against him as she lifted her head. “Need what?” she asked softly and with attempt at enticement.
His forehead tilted, pressing to her temple as their hitched breathing mingled. “To stop,” he finally managed.
“I’m not good at this,” she whispered. “I know you need better. I’m just very ill-advised about it all.” Trinity was having a hard time following. What the devil did the woman mean? “Woefully unworldly,” Beth muttered, as they stayed temple to temple.
It finally started to dawn on him. “I didn’t stop because of inadequacies. I halted because you’ve aroused my passions so high I feared I will lose control.”
“Oh.” She sounded pleased and awed. Her hand stirred in his hair, stroking his scalp. “My blood?” she asked shyly.
He pulled back so he could look at her lovely face, flushed with his kisses. “Yes, maiden,” he said, letting his fangs show.
“Is it b-bad?” she asked haltingly. “I would offer it freely …”
He wrenched away from her. She fell back as he landed in a crouch with his predator eyes yellow and flashing in the deep glomming of dusk. Let her see the animal I am, he thought, and he tossed a growl from his throat. Beth landed on her side where he’d pushed her. She was propped on one arm with her black hair a river falling halfway loose over one shoulder. Darkness on the moors was closing fast and her delicate face held confusion, then turning to determination.
“Trinity, you are not going to frighten me with …” She straightened and waved her hand. “With this ferociousness.”
He tilted his head, lengthened his neck, and then glared at her. He wasn’t certain if he wanted her blood more or to taste her arousal. He thought they both would affect him the same. Wildly.
“So I imagine wanting any blood is the same feeling I have. Um, had,” she revised quickly. “In wanting your blood, which is an urge that feels insatiable?”
He wondered how she could speak to him with his yellow eyes and manner looking feral as she talked of blood. He stood suddenly, obviously startling a gasp out of her. He’d tempted his willpower far enough. They had to halt this erotic blood play.
“Come,” he said, reaching his hand down to her. “I will guide you to the manor.”
Of course, he’d forgotten about his claws. He didn’t graze her with them because his instincts were too finely honed at keep them from nicking anything. Nevertheless, she had to feel the oddness as her delicate hand clasped his.
Beth felt the curled claws on Trinity’s hand as he drew her forward to follow him. That he had them was a surprise overridden by the caution she realized he must use not to claw her with them. She realized how much she trusted him not to harm her. Halfway to the manor, she’d felt his claws recede and when he glanced back at her she’d seen his eyes were no longer predator yellow.
Trinity brought her into the manor with the servants bowing and greeting his arrival. Once inside he ordered them to bring her meal and he turned to go upstairs to clean away his hard traveling. Before he left her, he sketched a short bow attached to an intent gaze that had the quality and heat to make her blush.
Was he really going to be her husband then, she wondered, after he’d left and she was following Maven to the dining room? Was he going to stay with her as married couples did? As she passed, she caught her image in a mirror near the entryway. Her hair was windblown and the dark mass had fallen over her shoulders, while her entire face looked glowing. She started to stop and fix her hair in a more modest style, yet it occurred to her she was alone with her husband … and newlywed. Instead, she patted her hair down, but she left it loose. He would be her husband if she accepted him, she decided, turning to go to the dining room.
Beth ate the soup Maven brought her, but she left the fowl, bread, and cheese untouched. She was nervous and food didn’t sound appealing. The wine did. She’d finished one glass and was about to ring the dinner bell to ask for another when Trinity walked into the room.
Her breath caught with the bell raised. He’d obviously taken a bath, washed his hair, and shaved his strong jaw. Like her, his hair hung loose, but his was still damp in heavy, dark blonde streaks. He wore no jacket, but a loose white shirt opened at the collar and tucked into brown trousers. The lord of the manor was relaxing for the evening.
“I will bring whatever you are set to ring for, maiden.”
Beth set the bell down, tingling head to toe from his deep seductive voice and the way he called her, “Maiden” as though it were an endearment.
“Wi-,” she stumbled out, and then she swallowed. “Wine,” she managed wondering what had happened to the quality of her own voice.
She’d never been alone in a room with a man in an intimate setting before, she thought, except that night on the lawn with Trinity. The instant she thought of that night, aches began throbbing centered between her thighs and she willed herself not to squirm.
“Wine then.”
She watched Trinity move to the sideboard and she couldn’t help noticing what a strongly made man he was. He was potent and so male. Most men of the ton were nothing like Trinity or any of the Blacknalls, and she didn’t think it was even because they were vampires.
Trinity turned back to her, bringing a bottle of wine and another wineglass. He came to her first, pouring her wine and when she expected him to retreat to proper seating at the opposite end of the long table, she was surprised when he pulled out the chair to her right. She was further surprised when he sat and poured himself a glass of wine.
“You drink?” The question fell out of her mouth before s
he thought better of it.
Trinity lifted his wine glass taking a sip as his rich blue eyes studied her above the rim. As it left his lips, he said, “I can drink and eat, but the food is a waste of time.”
He didn’t seem at all perturbed, so she took a sip of her wine, and asked, “Can you get drunk then?”
He actually smiled a bit. It was closemouthed with a slight lift of his masculine lips. “Perhaps after an entire case.” She raised an eyebrow in wonder, and he added in a lower tone, “I could get drunker feeding on your blood after you’d drunk the wine.”
She wasn’t appalled at all. Her blush spoke of other feelings. When Trinity spoke of sucking her blood, her body flushed with the same feelings that had heated her that night out on the dark lawn … when he’d touched her between her legs.
Then, she did a starkly brave thing for the meagerness of her world. “I am your wife. I would think being who you are and who I am that it would be your right to feed on my blood.”
She dared not look at him, but kept her head bowed and she saw his strong fingers clench around the stem of his wineglass.
“You offer again.” His voice sounded as if sifted through gravel. “Why?”
Beth clutched her napkin, looking up at him, then quickly away. Her gaze fell to his broad wrist and she realized she was staring at it. Flustered, she glanced at him quickly again, hoping he’d not caught her yearning stare. Of course, he had.
“Beth?” he questioned again, leaning forward. She felt his hand sift through the hair at the side of her face. “Any other woman I can mesmerize … hypnotize to do my will,” he said as his fingers touched her cheek and she looked up at him in wonder. “But not you,” he finished.
His knuckles smoothed under her chin, then down her throat slowly. She felt suspended. She felt entranced. When his knuckles reached the point under her chin again, his thumb reached upward brushing over her bottom lip. The yearning aches inside her leapt stronger. Yes, she would definitely call it yearning.