LachLan

by D

  Julia gave a small cry of surprise, the sound filling his mouth as he plunged two fingers into her body, feeling her pussy clench at the intrusion, the slick cream of her arousal hotter than the steamy water streaming over their bodies.

  “Fuck,” he cursed when she bit his lip, the sharp pain almost driving him into orgasming against her belly. No way in hell. Pulling his fingers out of her sweet warmth, he ignored her soft complaint to grip her thigh and position it higher on his hip. She brought her other leg up to match and crossed her legs behind him, thrusting her hips in invitation. One hand on her ass and the other squeezing a full breast, nipple pinched between thumb and forefinger, he slipped between her thighs and slammed his full length into her tight, tight body.

  He slid out and back in a few times, until she was completely open to him, then plunged as deep as he could go, until his cock touched her cervix and his balls slapped her flesh with every thrust. Growling with the burning need to possess her, he shifted both hands to grip her butt cheeks, holding them tightly and arching her body upward to give him better access, letting him go deeper with every demanding shove. Julia’s arms squeezed closer when he lowered his mouth to her neck and bit down, his muscles shuddering at the rush of her sweet blood while she held on, her mouth pressed against his skin and screaming into his shoulder.

  Riding a surge of victorious fury, driven by the knowledge that he’d defended her, that she was his, he lifted his bloody mouth from her neck, and began to pound into her, ignoring the hard tile wall, hearing only her soft cries of pleasure as he fucked her, her slick inner muscles shivering with desire, caressing and stroking, coaxing him to come, to claim the ultimate victor’s prize.

  With a snarling roar, he climaxed deep inside her body, his release more than simple passion as his power reacted at the same time, collapsing back down to its hiding place deep within his body, while Julia orgasmed around him, her sheath squeezing his cock so hard he feared she’d never let go. Until, with another of those soft, sexy moans, she fell limp against him, her arms loose around his neck, her face still buried against his shoulder as her heart pounded.

  Holding them both under the hot water, he washed away the fluids of their fucking, then stepped out, wrapped her in a big towel, carried her to the bed, and laid her on the cool sheets. Grabbing another towel for himself, he dried off quickly and climbed in next to her. She smiled, murmuring wordlessly, when he pulled her against him and tossed her towel to the floor. Yanking the covers up before she could get cold, he kissed her forehead, then settled back against the pillows with her in his arms, eyes closed as he drew a deep, relaxing breath.

  He didn’t intend to sleep, but he was tired, and she was sweet and soft in his arms. And while he slept, the sun rose and his sleep became something else as the vampire symbiote demanded its due. It did what it must to survive, healing, preparing for the next battle to come. The one destined from the moment he’d first awakened on that first agonizing night.

  The one that would make him a vampire lord.

  Chapter Eleven

  JULIA ROLLED LAZILY when she woke, feeling warm and sated. There was a feeling a woman’s body got when it had been thoroughly fucked. Or at least, her body got that way. The sensations always lingered for a little while, even after she woke and got started on her day. She wasn’t in any hurry to do the getting started part tonight, though. Lachlan was in his deep sleep, and the estate was quiet around them. It made sense that a vampire’s estate would run on vampire time.

  Her stomach growled, and she considered going to the kitchen, but decided it was too much trouble. She pulled the covers up more tightly and grabbed her e-reader, then tucked her back into Lachlan’s side and started reading. Or she tried. She soon discovered she was too drowsy to read more than a sentence or two, before her eyes wanted to drift shut. She put the reader down and simply enjoyed. It was rare for her to lie in bed doing nothing. Back home, she woke early, worked long hours, worked out at the gym or home, then went back to sleep and started all over again the next morning. Even weekends were busy, with more exercise, social obligations, and as often as not, more work.

  The next thing she knew, events of the previous night began playing at high speed in her brain, like a cartoon on a candy high. She didn’t know if she was dreaming or drifting, but when the cartoon got to those last few minutes, when Lachlan and Tucker had been beating the hell out of each other with invisible weapons, the fast forward suddenly ground to a halt, and all she could see was the face of a man she’d never met before, but that looked way too familiar. She’d seen Tucker’s face somewhere. Her eyes popped open. Hell, she’d never sleep now. Not until she figured out where the hell . . .

  She let out a small scream of discovery, shooting Lachlan a quick guilty glance, before remembering he wasn’t truly asleep, then jumping off the bed and hurrying to her laptop case. Because suddenly, she remembered where she’d seen Tucker before.

  An hour later, she was sitting at the desk, shuffling through papers from Masoud’s blue file. She’d found Tucker’s picture in there. Just one, and taken from a distance, but he’d clearly been meeting secretly with Masoud. She didn’t know what it meant. Maybe he’d turned snitch on his boss for personal gain. Although she didn’t see how jeopardizing Erskine’s money would help him. It wasn’t like Erskine would be going to jail. Masoud’s father would never have permitted him to take it that far. The scandal would splash back on them and hurt their own profits. So why . . . ?

  She threw down the picture and rubbed her eyes. Why the hell was she wasting time staring at a photo which told her nothing, when there was a gorgeous man in her bed? Well, mostly because the gorgeous man was a vampire and so not exactly . . . available at the present moment. She laughed and began gathering the various pages, trying to put them in some order for Lachlan later that night, after she told him about Tucker.

  Her smile faded when her gaze fell one particular page. It was filled with Masoud’s familiar script, the too-tidy writing of a mathematician who valued precision above all things. He’d been the youngest son of a controlling father, who’d already had grandchildren by the time Masoud was born. Raised to be more of a tiny adult than a child, he’d been hungry to be around children his own age when their families had first met. The three of them—Masoud, Julia, and her brother, Matthew—had been too young to be anything other than playmates, despite the two-year age difference between her and the boys. But as they’d grown older, and Masoud’s father had pressured him to be increasingly studious, he’d been drawn to what, back then, had been Julia’s free spirit, and too frequently cajoled into taking part in her schemes. Like the time they’d ditched their respective schools and spent the day on the indoor ski slopes of Abu Dhabi, or when they’d flown to Paris, not realizing how far it was and that they’d never be back before their parents missed them. They’d both gotten in serious trouble that time, but even Masoud had admitted it had been worth it. They’d had such a great time that no matter how many times she’d been to Paris since, the visits still paled next to the great Paris escape.

  Of course, the crazy adventures ended once her mom and Matthew died. After that, her father had been so damn sad that Julia had done everything she could to be the perfect daughter, to make his life easier, especially once she’d understood that he was afraid of losing her, too. There were no more crazy adventures that would make him worry or have teachers calling to complain. No more risks. Not even the tiny ones, like crossing in the middle of the block to avoid the extra few yards of walking home.

  Masoud hadn’t said anything, though she’d always suspected he’d missed the crazy version of her. He’d even talked her into mild acts of rebellion, like drinking champagne along the Champs-Elysées on New Year’s Eve, while reminiscing about the great Paris escape. Of course, everyone around them had been drinking, too, but since it was illegal, they could, strictly speaking, have been arrested. That was what passed f
or crazy by then, with Masoud all about his father-approved mathematical studies, and Julia, just as dutifully, following her father’s footsteps to Washington.

  She leaned her head on her hand with a sigh and felt the familiar twinge of guilt. Masoud had loved her so much. He’d planned their lives together. She’d loved him, too. Just not . . . . She raised her gaze to where Lachlan slept soundly and sighed again. Not the way she loved Lachlan.

  JULIA WAS SLEEPING dreamlessly when Lachlan woke the next night. She knew this because one moment there was nothing, and the next, there were strong fingers gripping her hip and rolling her under a big warm body. “Lachlan,” she murmured, still half asleep when his heavy weight settled between her legs and his lips went to her neck.

  “What the hell are you wearing?” he muttered as a hand roamed over her breasts and down, insinuating between her thighs and pushing, to make room for him.

  “Lachlan.” It came out as a moan this time, when his penis, already thick and hard, pushed against flesh that was still tender from their earlier lovemaking, and yet soaking wet with arousal. When he reached down and positioned the tip of his erection against her opening, she didn’t even have to think about a response. Her hips thrust upward automatically, eliciting a gasp when he met her move with a hard thrust of his own, sending his cock so deep into her that his balls slapped her butt. Lachlan hissed out a breath and ground his groin against her clit, the pressure so intense on the swollen bud that she thought she’d come right then. But he didn’t let her. Seeming to understand what she was feeling, he lifted his hips at the last minute, making Julia want to scream at him for stopping.

  “Patience, princess,” he whispered against her ear, as he continued pushing himself in and out of her body, but being exquisitely careful not to brush against her aching clit.

  “Patience, my ass,” she muttered and wrapped her legs around his narrow hips. She wasn’t a vampire, but she wasn’t weak. Crossing her legs at the ankle, she held on to him tightly, forcing him to remain close.

  Lachlan chuckled. “I love your ass. Want to do that next?”

  A genuine snarl poured out of her throat as she flexed hard and rolled, succeeding in reversing their positions only because she’d surprised him. Putting both hands on her hips, he continued thrusting upward as she rubbed herself against him until she was breathless, hands squeezing her own breasts, pinching her nipples to painful hardness as she writhed above him.

  “That’s a fine sight,” he growled, then flexed those fabulous abs and sat up, putting his arms around her, crushing her breasts against his hard chest and lowering his mouth to her neck once more.

  Julia couldn’t breathe, didn’t want to. She wanted all her focus, every perception she possessed, on her vampire lover as his fangs sliced into her skin and pierced her vein, as she felt the first strong pull of her blood, heard his groan of pleasure at the exact moment every nerve in her body came to life, slamming her into the most intense orgasm of her life. She held onto him, her arms tight around his neck, her thighs tight where they straddled him . . . and shuddering with ecstasy when the liquid heat of his climax filled her, and they tumbled together into erotic bliss.

  LACHLAN ROLLED to his side with Julia in his arms, trying to remember if he’d ever felt this kind of pleasure with a woman before. He’d been alive a long time, had enjoyed many lovers, so many it was possible he’d forgotten a few. But he didn’t think he’d ever experienced such an intense sexual experience. Being inside Julia, feeling her body tremble around him, her pussy clutch at him with such vicious passion . . . . It was tempting to simply grab her and run. To forget about duty and responsibility and . . . . He closed his eyes, swallowing the sigh trying to force its way out of his lungs. It was pointless to think like that. He’d never do it. Too many people he cared about depended on him. His entire life, even before he’d been made Vampire, had been about responsibility to the clan. He couldn’t change now. He didn’t want to.

  Deep within his embrace, Julia bit his shoulder.

  “Careful there. If you break the skin, you’ll be orgasming all over me again.”

  Her mouth opened, her breath hot against his skin when she said, “Really? You mean I don’t have to put up with your torture when you bring me to the edge and let me hang there?”

  He grinned. “You want me to stop?”

  She punched his side, but was too close to put any power into it. “Let go of me.”

  He dipped his head down and licked her neck, sending a full-body shiver rolling over her skin. “You taste good.”

  “Lachlan,” she said in a breathy groan. “We—” Her throat moved under his mouth as she swallowed. “We have to talk.”

  He scowled, not liking the sound of that. “About what?” His tone might have been a bit too unhappy, because her shiver this time wasn’t one of pleasure. He lifted his head immediately and cupped her face in both hands, pushing sweat-damp hair away from her face. “Did something happen today? Tell me.”

  She shook her head and caught her breath, one hand reaching up to grip his wrist, as if to hold him close. “It’s not bad. It’s just . . .” She paused to take a deep breath, before continuing. “I recognized Tucker last night. I’ve seen him before.”

  Lachlan stilled to silent attention, but didn’t let go of her.

  “It wasn’t me,” she said quickly. “I mean, I didn’t see him in person. He’s in Masoud’s files.” Her eyes lifted to meet his. “I think he might have been giving Masoud information to help track Erskine’s money laundering.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, with a shrug. “I thought maybe you would.”

  “Vampires are like humans when it comes to money. There’s never enough. But if Tucker’s goal was to knock Erskine off the throne, the last thing he should have wanted was for anyone to claw back Erskine’s money. Maybe he and your Masoud had plans to split it when—”

  “Absolutely not,” she snapped, pushing away from him, until they were no longer touching. “Masoud would never be a part of something like that.”

  Lachlan studied her a moment, fighting a possessive rage that had nowhere to go. Was he jealous of a dead man? A ghost could be a powerful competitor, his flaws forgotten in the memory of those who’d loved him. “Did you love him?” he asked flatly, needing an answer.

  Julia bit the inside of her lip, tears spilling over when she met his gaze. “Not the way he wanted me to,” she admitted, as if it was a dirty secret, a terrible failing. “I found the ring in his safe after he died,” she whispered, her cheeks wet as silent tears continued to flow. “He wanted to marry me. That’s why he took the job, why he left the US.”

  “He wanted you to move with him?”

  She shook her head. “He would have lived wherever I wanted. But when I said no, he took the job in London. And now he’s dead, because of me. Because I couldn’t love him enough.”

  “Fuck that,” he snarled and pulled her close, ignoring her protests until finally she put her arms around him and held on tight. “You’re not responsible for his choices. He chose to leave rather than fight for you. He chose to dig into Erskine’s finances. You know how these things work. He could have turned it over to someone else, could have brought in a whole team to work on the problem. Why didn’t he?”

  She shook her head, her silky hair rubbing over his chest. “I don’t know.”

  “I sure as hell don’t, either, but I do know one thing. I’d follow you to the ends of the earth before I’d let you go.”

  She pulled back to look up at him, her eyes wet, nose bright pink, and just as beautiful as ever. “What if I don’t want to go anywhere?”

  He smiled. “Well, you know how I hate flying.”

  She nodded and gave him a watery smile in return. “You whined the whole time.”

  “I did not. Maybe
I’ll let you go after all,” he grumbled.

  “Please don’t,” she said softly and hugged him, settling her weight against his for a long silent moment. Then she sighed. “What do we do about Tucker?”

  “Whatever Tucker was up to, he’s no longer an issue. I’m more interested in how Erskine reacts to his death.”

  “Will he know by now?”

  He nodded. “Tucker took a blood oath. Erskine didn’t need anyone to tell him his lieutenant was dead. It’s a vampire thing,” he added when she gave him a questioning look. “We’re connected to our vampire children—that’s the vampires we personally turn—and to any vampire who’s taken our blood in an oath of fealty. We feel their death deeply.”

  “You’re head of your clan, right?”

  “Aye, though there’s a distaff branch that owns the castle for the tourists. It was in ruins long before I was born. They came along and restored it. And we had no quarrel. If anything, it was better for us. Foreigners looking to find their roots go to the castle, rather than looking for us.”

  “But the clan you were born into is yours, and you have a lot more vampires than when you were turned. So that means . . . how many vampire children do you have?”

  He gave her a long, serious look. “Every McRae vampire alive is mine,” he said quietly. “The only exceptions are Fergus and Munro, because they were turned on the same night I was. But they’ve sworn a blood oath to me as their lord, so we’re bound by two ties of blood.”

  “All of them?” she asked, going back to her original question. “How many are there?”

  “Fewer than 50 are sworn to me. But not all of my vampires are McRae. Others have taken a blood oath over the years, for reasons of their own.” It was a slightly vague answer, but the instinct to maintain his secrets and protect the clan ran too deeply to be easily set aside. Even for the woman he was beginning to love.