Madeleine quickly found herself caught up in the story of a young woman stranded in the middle of nowhere with only the eerie house for shelter—and the dark, dangerous creature as her host. As she turned the pages, she felt the woman's pain and the vampire's fear. He fought against who he was—but the battle was lost. Sympathy for the vampire welled inside her.
The vampire's mouth opened, his long white incisors moving toward the column of the woman's throat.
The air around her changed. Madeleine tightened her grip on the comic and slowly raised her eyes. Stephen watched her from the far corner of the room.
"Why are you here?" His voice was tight, made rough by the clenched line of his jaw.
He looked haunted, as if demons had chased him there and now held him captive. All the reasons she'd thought of during the day, all the crimes she was prepared to lay at Stephen's feet, vanished as she stared into the hollow centers of his eyes. The light she'd grown used to, the laughter she'd teased to life, was gone.
She couldn't—wouldn't—give him any answer but the truth. "I wanted to see you." Her anger, her questions faded from her mind. She'd missed him last night. Had wanted his presence to comfort her and keep her safe. The erotic dreams and passionate kisses they'd shared flooded her senses. She wanted him, wanted to see the light return to his eyes.
He made no move to approach her, but his gaze followed the line of her body as she stood. Knowing he watched her movements, she walked around the coffee table and started toward him. For a moment, she thought he was going to back away, but he didn't. His fingers curled slowly into fists, as if he was fighting the urge to reach for what he wanted.
Female power ignited in her body. He wanted her. The glow of his eyes told her that, and more.
"You shouldn't be here."
"Why not?"
"Maddie, it's not safe." He said the words so quietly she could barely hear them.
"You won't hurt me." She spoke with a confidence she wasn't sure was real, but the words flowed from somewhere inside her.
"Oh, but I will."
It should have frightened her. The reminder should have been enough, but still she walked forward. This was why she was here, she realized. To see him. To be with him.
Stephen tensed as Madeleine came closer. He'd woken up with the pounding of her heart in his ears and the scent of her heat inside his house. The sensations had lured him upstairs, even as the remaining trace of his humanity hoped it was a dream. She couldn't be here. Not now. Not tonight.
Desperate hunger clawed at his throat. Her dream was too recent. His control was at its limits. He wanted her. And she offered him the one temptation he couldn't fight—her welcome. He could see it in her eyes. She would accept him, take him into her body, just as she'd done in her dream.
No woman had ever held more power than Madeleine as she strolled across his floor. He'd have dropped to his knees and begged if she asked it. The only thing keeping him upright was pride. And maybe some latent honor that lingered from his human days.
"Madeleine, I'll have Nick take you home."
She shook her head, and the sweet smell of her hair washed over him. "I'm not ready to leave." As if someone had lit a match against his skin, he felt every whisper of her husky voice move across his body and into his soul.
Wise thoughts of retreat tried to reassert themselves, but they were lost in the smile on Madeleine's lips and in her eyes. Moving slowly, giving her one chance to get away, to pull back, he took her hand and brought her to him.
Still waiting, still hoping, for her sake and ultimately for his, that she would stop this. His body protested his delay, his resistance. He wanted her, wanted her now. The thin line of his control was bending under the weight of desire.
He had to have her. The thought blocked all others, allowing only desire and need to be heard. He covered her mouth with his, sinking his tongue deep inside her warmth, giving her no prelude, overwhelmed by the need to be inside her in all possible ways.
Just a taste, he promised himself, though he knew it was a lie. The primal instincts that fed his hunger howled with possession. She was his.
His hand slid into her hair, cupping her head and holding her to him, afraid she might escape before he could fully taste her. But she wasn't trying to escape. She was moving forward, moving her lips with his, pressing her body against him. He knew then that he wouldn't let her go. Not tonight.
Not ever.
He created a mental picture of their bodies entwined and flashed it into her thoughts. Madeleine groaned as the image hit her, but she jerked back and glared at him. A flurry of confused emotions hit him.
"No. If we're going to do this—" She waved her hand between their bodies. "We do it for real."
It was the perfect excuse to leave—mock her human emotions, human need. Self-protective instincts that had guided him for two hundred years told him to escape now. Madeleine would settle into his soul, creating new tears in the scarred fabric of his mind.
He gripped her shoulders, ready to put her aside. Then she moved—with all the honesty that was Madeleine—she stood on tiptoes and placed her mouth on his. It was a light touch, a mere connection of their mouths, the sweet rush of her breath against his skin.
He resisted for a moment, found a strength he didn't know he possessed to hold back, but years of indulgence crumpled his will. He couldn't resist the offering, couldn't fight the temptation to have all that he'd craved. With a groan, he caught her to him and returned her kiss, teasing her lips, licking her, entering the warmth of her mouth.
And she responded with all that she had—strength, courage, passion. Unafraid as she was to challenge him, she didn't hide her desire. Her lips returned each caress. Her tongue tangled with his as he tasted her, clouding his mind with sensation until all he could feel was her.
He dragged his mouth from hers and placed warm, lingering kisses along the length of her neck. The fading mark glowed against her pale skin. She had no idea how erotic the bruise on her neck was to him. It was a sign of his possession. A vampire's bite became sensitive to the vampire's touch, always seeking to reestablish the connection. His teeth ached, longing to penetrate her flesh and feel her flowing around and through him. But he held back, thinking he might be able to resist that one temptation. He circled his tongue around the tiny bite marks. She melted, sighing as her body sagged against his.
The touch of her hand on his thigh obliterated all thought. This was what had filled his dreams—Madeleine, her touch, her pleasure, her warmth. Images clouded his mind, his own dreams returning, welling up inside him. Madeleine, naked on his bed, clad only in moonlight, covered only by his body, her lips begging for his kiss, her legs wrapped around his waist pulling him deeper inside.
He moved without thought, responding to the need to absorb the warmth of her body. The runaway rhythm of her pounding heart filled his senses.
He reached down and tugged her skirt up, baring her legs to his touch. The warm press of her skin against his hands weakened his knees. So soft. He lowered her to the rug and followed her down, easing his body over hers, hungry for a deeper touch, the feel of hot flesh against his skin. Madeleine twisted beneath him, her breath coming in long slow draws, as if she wanted to slow the sensations. He growled. She was his—he wanted her open to him, his to pleasure and own, unable to resist his touch.
His hands slid up the insides of her legs, spreading her thighs, creating a cradle for his hips. Slowly, he lifted his head and stared into her glowing green eyes. He held her gaze, wanting her thoughts only of him, her senses filled with him. As she watched him, he pressed his hips forward, deep between her legs, their only connection the steady pulse of his erection against her femininity. Even through the layers of their clothes, he could feel her heat.
Her breathless gasp filled the room. Triumph and pleasure swept through his body as she moaned and clutched his arms, her hands tightening on the taut muscles that held him above her. He arched his hips again, massaging her
sex with steady pulses of his hips, preparing her for his penetration. He rocked against her center and listened to the increase of her heart. He had her. She belonged to him.
He leaned forward and kissed her, drawing her breath into his body, filling himself with Madeleine. And still he moved his hips against her. She whimpered, and the echo vibrated down his spine.
Her mouth slipped away from his, down the tight line of his throat. He almost stopped her, knowing it would be too much, but the silk-soft touch of her lips on his neck was a lure he couldn't resist.
She swirled her tongue over the slow pulse point, a counterpoint to the rhythm of his hips against the warmth of her sex. His body tightened. He couldn't move, too captivated by her touch. Her lips curled into a smile against his skin, and she purred as she licked a single line up the length of his neck.
"Maddie." Caught in her web, he could do nothing but feed his own desire and hers. She opened her mouth on his skin and played—she tasted him, licked him, sucked him. He turned his head to the side, giving her more access, silently pleading for her to continue. She set her teeth against the muscles of his throat and bit. The tiny nip was too much. Stephen shivered and released the ragged groan he'd been fighting. Her unsteady breath and rapid heartbeat pounded through his veins. Another wave of desire flooded his already heightened senses. He threw his head back, arching his neck and feeling his eyeteeth lengthen.
Madeleine smiled. It was an intensely female smile, the smile of a woman who knew her mate's weaknesses and knew her own power. She moved again, as if to return to that sweet spot on his neck, knowing she could drive him beyond control. He caught her cheek in his hand and pulled her back up to his mouth, stopping any future torment.
Witch, he whispered into her thoughts. Her lips smiled against his.
He pulled her sweater up and over her head, tossing it out of his way. His hands quickly worked the front catch of her bra. She sighed as the heavy weight of her breasts was released and his hands cupped them. Her nipples were erect and pressed hard against his palms as he smoothed the warm flesh.
He wanted to linger, to learn all her curves and hidden corners, but he needed more, needed all of her. He tugged at her panties and felt them separate in his hands, the warm scent of her arousal drugging his senses. He slid one hand down the warm flesh of her stomach, skimming through the soft hair that protected her most feminine place. He replaced the pressure of his hips with the light, delicate caress of his thumb.
Stephen! Her mental cry filled his head.
Yes. Mine. Primitive possession racked his body.
He would give her the pleasure, would please her as no other. She arched her hips, urging him to deepen the touch. He kept his touch light, wanting to draw it out, fill her, until only he existed.
Her cries echoed in his ears and her jumbled thoughts resounded in his mind. Last night he'd been concerned by her thoughts in his head—tonight he reveled in them. Her mind centered on one thought—more. More of him.
He drew himself up and rested on his heels. She lay before him—wet, open, wanting. Her bra was spread open, baring her full breasts, her skirt hiked up around her waist. She was beautiful in her passion, her eyes clouded with a hunger he recognized as a mirror to the one in his soul.
His being cried out to be inside her, in every way, but he held himself still. His hunger was too strong. He would take too much—his control would snap. His eyeteeth were extended and aching, matching his erection.
Fill me.
Her mental plea shot through him, and he knew he could hold nothing back. He'd give all that she needed and take all that she offered.
She reached for him, stretching her arm to where he waited between her open legs, his knees pressed against the underside of her thighs. Her fingers traced a light path along his fly. Through the rough material of his jeans, he could feel her heat. Nothing had ever been so seductive, so feminine as Madeleine's desire. She wanted him. Wanted his flesh in her body. Slowly, conscious that she watched every move, he slid his hands from her thighs to his own, moving sensuously across the rough fabric of his trousers to the fly. Her tongue slipped out the corner of her mouth, as if imagining the taste of him. With that simple move, his vision faded to red. He groaned and ripped at his jeans, fighting his own clothing until finally he was free and over her.
He thrust forward, entering her in one long, powerful stroke. Her body arched beneath him and her shocked cry shattered the room. He froze, the red haze clearing from his mind. He'd hurt her.
He started to pull out, wanting to save her from further pain. Her moaned protest and her strong legs wrapping around his waist stopped him. She clung to him, holding him inside her, as if she couldn't bear the loss of his flesh. She stared up at him, her eyes glazed with pleasure, not the pain he'd imagined.
"Stephen," she sighed his name as he settled fully inside her again. He held himself still, feeling the sweet pressure of her inner walls holding him. Never could he have imagined it would feel this good to be inside her. And he knew the truth—he was lost. He would never be free of her.
Mine. She gave a tiny gasp as he grew even harder inside her.
Locking her gaze with his own, he started to move. Steady pulsing thrusts, deep inside. Her body met his, stroke for stroke—begging him to go deeper, faster. His Maddie was a woman unafraid to seek her own needs. And he would give her what she sought, ease the unbearable ache that was forming, the need he saw in her eyes and heard in the silent cries that filled his head. He would give her what she needed, no matter the cost to himself.
He tilted her hips in his hands, positioning her so each thrust pressed against the most profound point of her desire. She groaned. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she pulled him down to her. She met him with hungry, deep kisses that matched the fire between her legs.
Her taste overwhelmed him. He strained against her, his thrusts into her body becoming more desperate as her climax drew nearer. Her thoughts were vague, disjointed pleas he wanted to satisfy as her body tightened under his. He slipped his hand between their bodies, pressing, seeking and finding the touch that would bring her to completion.
Madeleine heard her own cry as the heat burst through her core and spread into her limbs. Each thrust of his hips milked the sensation further, bringing her to another peak quickly after the first. She groaned and pulled at him. The sound shocked her. Never before had she allowed herself that freedom or found the need to cry out.
He still moved above her, inside her, driving deep into her and holding himself to the hilt before slowly pulling out. Her own frenzy eased as she recovered from her climax. She relaxed, enjoying the long, deep slides of him inside her. She stared up at Stephen as he moved over her. With each thrust he bared his clenched teeth, as if he were fighting his own release, limiting his pleasure. The sharp tips of his eyeteeth—long and prominent—glistened in the dim light. Something held him back. He was fighting himself, fighting his desires.
A new longing burned in her chest—to bring Stephen to the same pleasure he'd created in her.
Instinct guided her. She cupped his head in her hands. Holding his gaze, she placed a light kiss on his tense lips, then guided him to the throbbing pulse in her neck. She shivered at the hot press of his mouth. His lips opened, then pulled away.
Maddie, no. She heard the sound inside her mind, a plea for release.
"Yes," she whispered in reply.
He groaned like a man tortured, and he ran his tongue across her skin, licking the line of her neck. She waited, needing this—needing it for him. She gasped as his teeth pierced her flesh and he entered her body again. The pain faded quickly and left only pleasure, his mouth pulling on her skin—the warm rush to fill him. Her thoughts wandered at the luxurious pleasure filling her. It was too delicious—his mouth on her neck, the steady thrusts between her legs.
With a final arch of his hips, Stephen lifted his head and cried out. A soft flutter of release scattered sparks through her body. The gentle
climax left her warm and relaxed and smiling under the crush of Stephen's weight as he collapsed.
She smoothed her hands up his back, loving the feel of his body on hers. He still wore his shirt. It clung to his back, wet from the light sheen of sweat that covered his body. Stephen once more placed his mouth against her neck, this time lightly licking and soothing the wounds she knew were there. She forced breath into her lungs and let the sensation flow through her.
He raised his eyes to her, and she could see the questions. She had no answers. She wasn't ready for it to be over, for reality to return. She forced all thoughts but him from her mind and allowed her body to open to all the sensuous feelings he inspired. He stood, and seconds later she found herself lifted into his arms, his strength carrying her effortlessly.
"Tonight, you're mine," he whispered as he carried her to the stairs.
"Yes."
Madeleine nodded and rested her head against his shoulder. For tonight.
***
Madeleine stretched long in the bed, relaxing in the slither of satin sheets under her skin. An aching tenderness between her thighs stopped her movement.
Damn. Just when I think I've got a really good dream going, I wake up and find out it's real. Her eyes crept open.
She was in Stephen's bedroom. She vaguely remembered getting here, though it was more a haze of images than an actual memory. He'd carried her up the stairs. She remembered dropping her head against his shoulder and the fascination she'd had with the base of his neck.
He'd finished undressing her, her sated body enjoying his slow touch. His lips had followed the path of bared skin, traced the line of her throat, kissed the soft skin of her breasts and her stomach and…
Memories ignited her body, arousing it, teasing it to life.
No! Stop!
Ignoring the ache between her legs, Madeleine rolled to her side and brought her knees protectively up to her chest. Each movement reminded her of him, the way he'd overwhelmed her senses and for a brief time became her whole world.
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