by Jackie Ivie
“You played sports?”
“Not played, exactly. It was more like…work.”
“Work? Did you grow up on a farm? You tossed a lot of hay or something?”
“Actually, I misspoke. It was more like play. But with competition. I spent a lot of years rowing. A lot.”
“Rowing?”
“Yes. Rowing. With oars.”
“You were on a rowing team? That explains a lot.”
“Once I earned the position, yes. But first I had to successfully learn how to dodge things.”
“What…like dodge ball?”
“More like spears and javelins. Once I learned how to dodge, then it was catching and tossing back. I got very good at it. Very good. I already told you of my dexterity. I don’t have many scars. I was the youngest to earn a position at an oar.”
“How young?”
“Twelve.”
Her eyes went wide to match her mouth. “What kind of childhood did you have? And where on earth were you raised? And who would do such a thing?”
“We will have to discuss that later, too. Fair?” And without awaiting her answer, he shoved his pants to the floor.
Fair? Hell no. The man was completely unfair. He knew that, too. It was in the look on his face. Vangie wasn’t an innocent, but Dane was more than she expected and entirely more than she knew how to handle. But oh! How she wanted to try! She licked her lips, trembled with what had to be yearning and longing and craving and desiring, and everything she’d once fantasized about. She looked up at his face.
“What?” He wasn’t just preening. He was on full display. And proud of it.
“You! And uh…you. Oh my stars. You’re so…uh—”
He lunged onto the bed beside her, denting the mattress with his weight as well as making the entire structure shake with the force of his entrance.
“I am your mate, Frja. I will not harm you.”
“Harm me?”
The man wasn’t just a failure with words. He didn’t read expressions well, either. As for body language? Her entire being seemed more concerned with texture and sensory experience. It wasn’t a need; it was an all-consuming hunger of need. Want. Ache. To hell with words and explanation. A well-spring of desire spread luminous wanton through her limbs.
“I swear it. It would be akin to desecration when I wish only to worship.”
“Worship?”
“You are impossible to convince with words! Someone has made you mistrust everything said to you. I shall just have to resort to my heritage.”
With that, he pulled her right against him and seized her mouth with his.
Skin of an impossible texture and feel touched all along her, absorbing every minute lunge she made against it. Tendrils of scented warmth laced about them, binding them together with invisible strength. Inflexibility. Completeness. The sensation of a bed disappeared, replaced by a meshed web of support that braced her every breath, captured her every sigh, and pressured her every pore…fully against him. Vangie couldn’t get enough of the sensation!
It was her legs entwining about him, her throat the one moaning, her arms the ones stealing beneath his to clasp behind his back, mashing her breasts against his chest.
Vangie melded with him, her entire being crying out for a joining with him. Fully. Completely. Her legs moved upward with little lurches, going up past his buttocks to his lower back, wrapping about him to press her apex against his. Willing their consummation. Begging for it. Careening toward it. She felt his chuckle of amusement, a sting at her mouth, and then the taste of blood…and with it came a spectacular lightning flash of complete light and joy and bliss.
She pulled away to cry aloud with joy at it, not even noting how he’d moved to her neck again, piercing, before sucking and pulling at her flesh. A red haze washed about them, filling the enclosure with more than warmth. Burning fire. Scorching heat.
“My love! My mate! My Frja!”
Whispers accompanied the movement of his mouth along her neck, back to her mouth, and with the kiss, he shoved his rod fully into her womanhood, impaling her on such strength and size that fireworks might as well be exploding throughout the chamber, lit from the fuse he started. The eruption of sensation was more than she could believe. It consumed her, taking her to another realm of existence that was too beautiful to contain. Vangie pulled away from the kiss, arching her head back in order to allow the cry of ecstasy space for sound, loud and with perfect clarity. It didn’t quit until her breath ran out. She’d never felt such abandonment, such fulfillment, such satiation, such joy. Wonder. Amazement. There wasn’t one thing frigid about any of it.
Blue eyes were waiting for her when she brought her head back down, the lashes shadowing them into dark pools of depth. Mystery. Secrecy. Thrill.
“Wow.”
She whispered it, and got a crooked smile in reply. Her heart contracted in a painful beat before going back to a ratcheted degree, seeming to fill her ears with a thumping that added to the cacophony about them. Vangie was the one lunging back to connect her lips to his again, and this time, it wasn’t blood she tasted, but pure nectar. An aura filled with light, and joy, and complete delight cocooned them. It added to the melee of sounds and images and sensations, and through it all, Dane continually moved; lifting onto his arms in order to gain better positioning, hammering his loins against hers, his shaft filling her over and over, his essence melding with hers. Deep and intense. Hard and full. Faster. Thicker.
More.
Glimmers of intensity became all-out tremors of need, and those gave way to eruptions of complete orgasmic ecstasy, and each one carried her cries of joy to the world. Again, and again, and so many times, she lost count, and then something changed. His rhythm altered, going to a harder, faster, and tighter degree, while everything on his body tautened, resembling flesh-wrapped iron everywhere she clung, and then he went stock still, flinging his head back to send an unearthly groan that trembled as it hung in the air. Vangie watched as he stayed in that position, his entire body shaking until the mattress shifted beneath them. And then he slackened, brought his head back down and pierced her rapt gaze with his.
“My… Frja.”
She could’ve asked what that endearment meant, but it didn’t matter. The look of absolute adoration on his face, combined with the intensity deep in his eyes didn’t have another definition. She was looking at love. And that’s when the tears started.
CHAPTER SEVEN
He’d made her cry?
Dane twisted onto his back, taking her with him, while spurts of bliss continued to radiate from where their loins still joined. Fulfillment and complete satisfaction filled him, sent there with her every pulse beat. He could identify every feature of the room. Light. Sound. Smell. Wonder. He’d never felt as he did right now. Ever. Reality seemed an eternity away, but it intruded the moment he’d seen her tears.
“I sincerely hope those are tears of joy, Evangeline. If not, we are going to have a severe problem, you and me.”
He sent the remark to the ceiling above them. She moved her head, hopefully to nod. He hoped it was a nod!
“Is that a yes?”
She moved her head again, and he pulled her closer, bringing her fully atop him so he could prolong the experience of being at one with her. Melded. Fitted. Combined. And for these precious few moments in an eternity of them, it felt like they still were. Words completely failed him at the extent of what he’d just been gifted.
He’d found his mate! She was everything he’d dreamt of and more! Perfection. Harmony. The planet might have stopped revolving for all he cared. Time could cease. Truth disappear. Facts wane. They were nothing compared to the reality that was his dead heart picking up every beat from hers, sending pulse noise to his ears.
He hadn’t changed her. Not yet. When it came down to it, he found he couldn’t force her. He loved her too much! He wanted her to return it. And for that he needed time! More than the three hours or so left of the night. He wordlessly
sent that request to the span of space above him, as well. Look at him; begging the fates for more of the one commodity that had seemed eternal. It was unbelievable.
Her hair was loose about them. He couldn’t remember pulling hairpins, but there wasn’t much clarity during that gray area when he’d been focused on getting her naked skin against his. Dane frowned slightly. He’d unbuttoned her suit jacket, blouse, bra…pulled off her skirt. There wasn’t recollection to where her pantyhose and other items might be, and nothing about hairpins. Didn’t matter. He could be atop them for all he cared. Dane lifted a lock of hair and separated the strands between his fingers, watching it divide. Glossy. Clean. Fine.
Everything about her was absolute, stunning perfection.
There was a lot to do and nothing on him wanted to start. He had to get the ship moving. Stay off radar. Hide her from Akron while he located those who’d ordered her death so he could return the favor. It wouldn’t be easy. She appeared innocuous, more like a day-trader than an assassin’s mark. He might have to call in a favor from the Crusader knight, Invaris. Or that Leonard fellow. As much as Dane distrusted humans, Len was all right. Trustworthy. Good shot. Great at the little details.
She’d ceased crying if the little sniffles were accurate. Thank goodness. He was clueless about an emotional female. He should probably offer and then find tissues. Or something. She sighed softly, touching his neck with just a hint of air. The reaction went all the way through him, as ripples of goose bumps were followed by tremors. And if the physical manifestations he’d been gifted with included crying, they were really going to have trouble.
Dane settled her hair back, stroking it into place on a shoulder before moving his hand lower, meandering about a back and the curve of buttocks that were everything feminine and soft, and perfect.
“Thank you.”
Her whisper stopped his explorations. He didn’t know how to answer, so he didn’t. He simply froze in place.
“I—I didn’t know. I mean…I knew. I did. I just didn’t believe it.”
“What?” Good. His voice was still low and masculine-sounding. Not a bit of emotion attached to it.
“I didn’t know…that making love could be so…you know. Wonderful. Amazing. I mean, it’s just… wow.”
If he still possessed a spirit, it was soaring, elevated beyond magnificence, hovering atop joy. The sensation transferred to his entire body, lifting them both a fraction before he caught it and collapsed back. She’d never understand. Not yet. He didn’t want to spoil a thing by speaking of curses and vampirism. Death and rebirth.
“You?”
He grunted and she lifted her head to look at him. The moment she did, he moved his gaze to the ceiling instead. His emotions were too raw. What she’d given him was too vast. Too new. Too unbelievable.
“Was it…good for you, too? Oh, geez. What a lame cliché.”
He licked his lips, tasting dried blood, jerked slightly at the intensity that flared all along him, and then moved his eyes to hers.
“You are everything to me, Frja.”
“What does that word mean?”
“ Frja? She is the goddess of love. Of perfection. From the old country.”
“Oh, no way.”
“You don’t believe my words? Or the adoration you evoke in me?”
He reached out with a finger and traced it down her nose to her mouth, using it to outline her lower lip. The tremble that scored her frame transferred right into his, making him lurch slightly. He’d never felt that sort of thing, either.
“I am not perfect. Nobody is.”
“You’re difficult to convince. Ever. Always. Is that it?”
“I have cellulite.”
“You’re very funny. You know that?”
“I’m serious. I’d get lipo to remove it, but…well. Everything costs money.”
“You do not use surgery on perfection, Frja.”
“You need glasses, Dane. I swear.”
“I speak, but I must not be saying the right words. Evangeline, please. You are my mate. My woman. The only woman for me. Ever. I swear it.”
“Dane—”
He placed his finger atop her lips, interrupting her. “You have the ability to change the very elements about me. I’m unable to see anything other than perfection when I look at you. Do you understand? To me, you’re not just wonder and beauty; you are the epitome of them. A goddess among mere mortals. If I falter, it’s due to my fear at failing to show the proper homage.”
“Wow. You’re quite the player, aren’t you?”
Dane’s face fell. “You disbelieve me?”
“Of course.”
“But, why?”
“Because…oh, I don’t know. Look around you. Look at you. I mean, seriously. You’re an absolute babe. Amazingly cut. Hard. Muscled. Gorgeous. Uh…I mean, really. Look. I don’t even need to factor in that you’re a bazillionaire. You have to scrape women off. I’m just one in a continual chorus line of them. You probably notch the bed post around here somewhere.”
He could guess who’d messed with her self-esteem, and the only reason he wasn’t killing Mister Harper was because the bastard was already dead. Dane moved both hands to her upper arms, held her for the roll that placed him atop her, still fully sheathed between her legs. And then he lowered his chin and growled. He tried to keep control of it, but the sound still made the air about them pulsate.
“Oh. Yeah. Don’t let me forget to add that part.”
“What…part?”
“The vampire side.”
Dane went perfectly still as his eyes widened.
“What? I wasn’t supposed to notice? Oh, come on. You even had your teeth fixed. I can’t imagine why. You already have women hooked just by showing up somewhere. I’m going to guess you needed to reel them in by adding sinfully sexy to your portfolio. That’s why you paid for tooth alterations, isn’t it? And I have to tell you. It was a waste of money. They look fake.”
“Nobody calls me a fraud,” he informed her.
“Add me to that. I didn’t say it, either.”
“You infer it.” He narrowed his eyes.
“Let’s just say….it’s hard to believe your sincerity. To a woman you just…uh, you know…met.”
“A woman I just made love to. Or are you going to deny that, too?” He pushed his groin into hers so she’d have no doubt about meaning.
“Love and lust are two different things, Dane. And I’m full of clichés tonight, aren’t I?”
“Why do you keep trying to turn this into something superficial and light? I’m completely serious and yet you mock me. I’m at a loss. What can I say to convince you?”
She tipped her head slightly and considered him, slipped a tongue onto her lips to moisten them, smiled slowly at him while batting her eyelashes. That look had a devious tint to it.
“Marry me.”
“Okay.”
“Without a pre-nup.”
“Okay.”
“In the morning.”
“Uh…”
“You see?” Now her smile wasn’t remotely devious. It was triumphal.
“See what?”
“You and me. And all this mates-for-life talk. It’s not real. It’s nice. Don’t get me wrong. It’s more than nice. And fun. You showed me just how much fun. But it’s not real.”
“I never said anything about for life,” he replied.
“Oh. That’s right. You didn’t. You should probably let me up, so I can get dressed and check into my hotel. I also have to contact the people who want your property before they send out the National Guard or something.”
“You can’t just bed me and then leave me.”
“That’s my line, Dane.”
“Tomorrow. I mean, today. Sundown.”
“What?”
“I’m marrying you. At sundown. No. Better make it midnight.”
“You don’t have to marry me, Dane. It was a test. You failed.”
“What? How can I f
ail a test if I don’t know the rules?”
“Welcome to the war of the sexes, Dane Morgan. By the way, I think you’ve taken the naïve party boy schtick a bit too far. Give it a rest and let me up. I need to make a call. I don’t want someone reporting me as a missing person and then finding me on your yacht. I couldn’t handle the embarrassment.”
“Are you trying to anger me?”
“Not really…but if it gets me freed, I’m all for it.”
Dane pushed to his side and opened his limbs, releasing her. “Don’t go too far.”
He watched her roll off the bed, trying to take the sheet with her. She was totally wrong about her body. There wasn’t a hint of cellulite to mar any of her perfection. She looked luscious, curvy, soft, and wholly womanly. She knelt out of view. He sat to watch her sort through the pile of clothing on the floor.
“I’m on a ship, and I can’t find my clothes. How am I leaving? Where did you put my purse?”
Dane scrunched an eye. Pondered it. And then shook his head. The purse was part of that gray area he’d suffered.
“You can’t keep me captive by hiding my cell phone, Dane.”
“Use mine.”
“Your pockets are empty.”
He watched her toss his pants.
“On the dresser.”
“Where?”
“Any of them. All of them. I have lots of phones and lots of roaming plans. Go. Pick one.”
“I need a robe.”
“Oh. I don’t think so.”
“Jerk.”
“Welcome to my war between the sexes,” he replied.
She took his t-shirt and pulled it over her head - raising strands of hair with the static - before she stood up, tugged the garment down to the tops of her thighs and then glared at him. It didn’t work. She could glare all she liked; he still thought she was adorable. And the t-shirt didn’t do much to conceal her. Not the way she’d pulled at it. All that happened was thin cotton molded to every curve. He folded his arms but couldn’t move his eyes as she stalked across the room, grabbed one of his phones, and opened it.
She had an excellent memory. He watched her spend a couple of seconds dialing in the air before looking down and punching buttons. Then he had to pretend he couldn’t hear everything by pasting a completely blank expression on his face in the event she looked.