by Milly Taiden
Will stopped. Everything was brilliant to his eyes, bright and dark, as clear as the fountain’s water when the sun was straight overhead. He did not know how long it would last, but for the moment, he wasn’t shuttling between possible presents and speculative pasts. He was here, now, with a woman whose body was an elaboration of curves, from the soft fullness of her lower belly to the narrowing at her waist to the overabundance of her breasts and soft, sloping shoulders.
Right now, he understood. Not how or why or what would come next, but he understood exactly what she was offering.
And he said, “I accept.”
She laughed, holding a hand out to him. He took it—he could do nothing else—and she pulled him down to join her, on the silken blankets. And her mouth worked miracles, her hands opened worlds. She kissed him as he had never been kissed—his mouth, his naked chest, his collar bones and flat nipples and belly and below. She took it in her mouth, suckling it until he almost burst, and then dug her fingernails into him cruelly.
“Not yet,” she said with a dark laugh that raised all the hairs on his arms. “Not yet, my dear Will.”
And she teased him with her mouth as he gritted his teeth against his moans. When he could bear it no more, she mounted him, straddling his legs, riding his body even as she leaned forward to trail her nipples across his chest. His hands took her hips, trying to make her match his rhythm. But she just laughed and paid no heed, no matter what force he used, keeping to a pace that was a slow torture, keeping him from the peak he wished to reach.
He gathered all his strength and wrapped his arms around her, rolling her under him. Again that laugh, a bright bell, as she went—because she wanted, not because she must, he felt, despite the fact that, for all her curves, she was far smaller than him.
“What do you want to do to me, Will?” she whispered, those black eyes glittering. “I am all yours for the night. For anything you imagine. Anything you desire.”
And he desired a great deal. He pulled her up and drove into her mouth, setting the pace that beat in his veins instead of the one that she forced upon him, and she took him deep into her mouth, into her throat as her eyes went half-lidded even as his hand in her hair kept her pinned where he wanted her to be. He kissed her mouth again, her body, her breasts, claiming them in turn. And the noises she made set his blood on fire. The night broke apart, stuttering into confusion, as his existence always did, but each time when he returned, it was to her body and to the things he could do to it.
He thrust deep into her slickness, her knees up and ankles behind his head, then again with her rolled onto her belly at the edge of the bed, and finally with his body in the cradle of her thighs, her legs wrapped around his waist and urging him on, ever deeper, until he finally reached his peak and came crashing brutally down.
And then, as he lay in stunned silence, gasping, she wriggled lithely out from under him and pulled his cheek against her breasts.
“And now it’s my turn to take my fill,” she murmured, and she slid down his body, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, his chin, his throat. Her touch slid in and out of the haze that still muffled his brain, wrapping around all his senses. And her kisses grew deeper and deeper until he felt his teeth rasp against her skin. Then—pain, as sweet as any pleasure, lanced through him as his skin parted beneath her mouth. His hands moved faintly, to fend her off—but instead they just pulled her tighter still.
Her mouth was fixed to his throat, lips sealed around it, sucking, taking, drinking, pain and pleasure tangling in his brain. And then Will knew they were right—he was mad, after all, a madman in a madhouse, because beautiful women did not take him to bed, and beautiful women did not drink blood, his blood, blood and water, out of blood—
And then came the pain, the pain alone that wasn’t twisted inside into something else. That he understood, even as it tore through his veins, because he was dying—he knew that now—and dying should hurt, when the blood was being spilled from his body and stolen from his heart until his heart beat slow and the dark came down over his eyes.
***
CHAPTER THREE
“Good morning.”
She was there, at his bedside. Lady Darnley. Elizabeth. She was there, and she was beautiful. He almost reached out before he stopped himself—to draw her down to him, so he could kiss those bow-shaped lips and make her eyes go heavy and dark as she panted with her desire.
Instead, Will pushed up out of the blankets, the sheets sliding down his naked chest. A gaslight burned from a sconce in the corner, sending out shadows that danced and skipped among the heavy furniture.
Elizabeth was smiling, revealing small, white teeth, teeth that did not look capable of what she had done to him…or what he had imagined that she had done. He put a hand to his throat, but there was no mark there.
It all seemed like a dream now. But everything seemed like a dream, his whole life one looping, strange, tangled vision, intangible and imprecise.
Until now. He felt the moments of his own mind, and each linked to the next, before and after, ticking away in a steady stream. They didn’t slide away when he examined them but held fast, fixed points of certain things. They were no long-elusive fish but definite, absolute, like stones.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“With me,” Elizabeth said. “Isn’t that enough?”
He shook his head. “The sanitarium. They shall never discharge me.”
“They shall and they have.”
He looked into her clear black eyes, trying to read answers there. “You’ve done this.”
Her smiled widened. “Oh, you are a clever one. I’m so glad. There was a danger, always a danger….” She trailed off. “I am going to enjoy you.”
Enjoy. As he had enjoyed her, under him, those lips parted, making incoherent, delicious little noises as he pushed her into a peak, over and over…. As she had enjoyed him, taking him to the edge a dozen times before finally letting him fall. As she had enjoyed him with her mouth against his neck, taking his blood and giving him…what?
A new life.
“I’m free,” he said, raising his hand to his temple. His thoughts tumbled one after another, eager and clear. Had they ever done that before? Everything in his past was murky, disjointed, but he didn’t think so.
Elizabeth reached out to run her fingernails lightly across his chest, and his member stirred, swelling as he caught his breath.
“Your bondage has only begun, my dear,” she said. “What I offer you is a life—bonded to mine. Your mind is free of the constraints of your illness, but it’s bound to the constraints of my will. I would ask you what you thought of that, but I fear it is a fait accompli. So I shall only ask—what do you think of the trade?”
And Will could feel now what she meant, the force of her influence under which his mind seemed to bend, surrounding his thoughts and containing them even as thousands of words rushed in, words that he had forgotten that he knew, words that had once fled from the constant breaking of his mind.
She had saved him and in so doing, she had broken him again—to her. Yet he loved her for the breaking as he did the saving, loved her like he loved his own heartbeat, not out of choice but because he could not live an instant without it. It wasn’t at his waking that it had happened nor even when she had taken him to her bed. No, all it had taken were her neat shoes on the cold tile and was the sharp voice sending the doctor away—and the soft one, when she had bent to his side and spoken to him like a man.
“Does it mean that you shall never leave, and that I shall never go back to what I was before?” he asked. Already, he was not sure which struck the deepest fear in his heart.
“You shall most certainly not go back,” Elizabeth said, her eyes flashing with emphasis. “And I shall go where I please. It is you who shall not leave me.”
He thought about this. Not imprisonment in the sanitarium but imprisonment at her side—at her beautiful, delicious side, with a clear mind and sound body.
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“Then I have only one question. What is it that you want from me?” Will asked.
Her fingers traced the line of his jaw and down his throat. “Your heart. Your body. And your blood.”
Will caught her hand in his, feeling its power, knowing that it was captive only because she wished it to be. He said, “All three I will give you, and gladly.”
She smiled then, leaning forward to press her lips against his own. And just before they touched, she murmured two words:
“I know.”
***
Read a modern-set story in the world of Aethereal Bonds.
Cora Shaw will do anything to live. Diagnosed with terminal cancer in her senior year of college, she is given a choice: Call hospice, or seek out a mysterious man who promises an impossible–and insanely dangerous–cure.
She knows him only as Mr. Thorne, a reclusive billionaire who seems full of contradictions. A man with strange, impossible powers over her.
A man, she discovers, who is not a man at all.
LIFE BLOOD
Cora’s Choice 1
See LIFE BLOOD at:
Amazon
About V.M. Black
New York Times bestselling author V. M. Black writes paranormal romance and urban fantasy books set in the world of Aethereal Bonds.
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Table of Contents
Their Second Chance by Milly Taiden
Forever Sheltered by Deanna Roy
Kiss of Memory by V. M. Black
The Cowgirl Ropes A Billionaire by Cora Seton
What a Girl Wants (Rock Stars in Disguise: Rhiannon) by Blair Babylon
Beyond Love and Hate by Zoe York
Ripped by Olivia Rigal
Ready to Fall by Daisy Prescott
My First, My Last by Lacey Silks
Azure by Chrystalla Thoma
Wicked Little Sins by Holly Hood
The Royal Elite: Ahsan by Danielle Bourdon
All for Hope by Olivia Hardin
High Risk Love by S.J. Mayer
Rush by Violet Vaughn
First Taste by Mira Bailee
The Perfect Someday by Beverly Preston
St. Charles at Dusk by Sarah M. Cradit
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THE COWGIRL ROPES A BILLIONAIRE
by Cora Seton
THE COWGIRL ROPES A BILLIONAIRE
by Cora Seton
THE COWGIRL ROPES A BILLIONAIRE © Cora Seton 2013
Bella Chatham will lose everything—her veterinary practice, her animal shelter, and even her home—if she can’t find another source of income, fast. So when her best friend signs her up for the hot new reality television show, Can You Beat a Billionaire, Bella accepts the challenge and hopes against hope she can win the ten million dollar prize. If she doesn’t, it’s bye-bye pet clinic and shelter, bye-bye Chance Creek, Montana, and hello to marriage to the billionaire for a year!
Evan Mortimer, billionaire, can’t believe he’s reduced to competing in a television contest to win a wife. Unfortunately, it’s the only foolproof way to secure his position as head of Mortimer Innovations. At least he’ll be able to dump his “spouse” at the end of the year; he’s much too busy to be tied down to a country bumpkin cowgirl.
Bella doesn’t expect her adversary to be handsome—or funny, or compassionate—but Evan’s all three, and he’s proving a tough competitor, too. When they end up sharing a tent—and a sleeping-bag—her body betrays her with a longing so deep it cuts her to the core. Still, this cowgirl must stay strong. If Evan uncovers her secret fears, he’ll use them to win the contest—and then he’ll own her for a year. She’ll be out of luck, out of cash, and stuck being Mrs. Mortimer until he kicks her to the curb. Too bad she can’t decide which is worse—winning the show and losing Evan forever, or losing the show and only being his temporary wife.
Evan can’t believe he’s falling for the one woman who doesn’t want him. This cowgirl’s not impressed by his money, his name, or his inability to sleep in a tent with her for an entire night, but every look and touch she gives him sends his desire through the roof. With a director determined to use his claustrophobia to make him look like a fool, and an adversary so sexy he can hardly see straight, he’ll need all his savvy to come out on top. Too bad he’s going to lose no matter how this show turns out. If he beats Bella, he’ll destroy the first woman he’s ever loved. If he doesn’t beat her, it’s bye-bye Mortimer Innovations.
Will either of them remember in time that it’s not who wins or who loses—it’s how they play the game that really counts?
CHAPTER ONE
“No—I can’t take any more kittens!” Bella Chatham pointed to the closed sign posted prominently in the door of the Chance Creek Pet Clinic and Shelter. It was past seven o’clock in the evening and she’d already done a full day of appointments and surgeries. Now that she’d finished her errands, she looked forward to polishing off the fast food she’d picked up before she switched her attention to the animals waiting for their fair share of love and attention in the shelter out back. After a few hours of caring for her long-term guests, she’d make her way to the small airstream trailer she lived in at the far back of the property, take a shower and collapse into bed.
Dick Schneider stood on the other side of the door, however, holding a box emitting the all-too-familiar sound of kittens meowing. Their plaintive cries barely carried through the glass separating her from the cool October evening air. Dick owned a large spread about ten miles outside of town, and when the feral cat population became out of control out there, he caught all the kittens he could and delivered them to her.
“You’ll have to come back tomorrow,” she tried again.
She couldn’t take in any more kittens. Her shelter cages were filled with kittens. Despite her best efforts at promoting a spay and release program for feral cats, Chance Creek, Montana was still full of them. And their offspring all ended up here at her combination clinic and pound. Feeding them ate all her income and more. Last month she’d had to pay part of her receptionist’s earnings with the change from the big jug of coins she’d been adding to since she was a teenager.
She wasn’t sure how she’d pay Hannah this month.
Dick shrugged. “I’ll just take care of them myself,” he called through the door and turned around.
For one brief second, Bella thought he meant he’d keep the kittens after all, but she quickly realized his true intentions. She yanked the door open. “Don’t you dare kill those cats!”
Dick spun around on his heel and she caught his smile before he suppressed it. Darn it—this was her problem in a nutshell; everyone in Chance Creek knew she wouldn’t turn away strays. She might deal with disease and death on a daily basis in her clinic, and she administered lethal doses to animals who needed their way smoothed as they died, but she could not bear to euthanize animals just because they’d had the misfortune to be born.
So she didn’t.
And since most people hated the idea just as much as she did, they brought their unwanted kittens and puppies to Bella, knowing that even though they’d turned an animal in to the pound it would survive and their consciences could remain clean.
Bella propped the door open with her hip and accepted the box. “I don’t suppose you’d consider a contribution to the clinic to help offset their care?”
Dick sighed heavily and pulled out his wallet. He carefully selected a ten dollar bill and handed it over.
“Ten dollars?” Bella bit back a curse at the piddly amount; she couldn’t afford to alienate Dick, even if she knew darn well he could afford ten times what he’d given her. “Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.” He climbed back in his truck and pulled away.
Bella retreated into the clinic, placed the box on the floor, and sat down beside i
t. Now that she was stuck with them, she might as well see what she had. Pushing the cares of the day out of her head for just a moment, she opened the lid with the same sense of anticipation she’d opened her gifts on Christmas morning as a child. She loved all animals. Well, all except horses, she thought, with the habitual frown she reserved for the four-legged monsters that were all too common in ranch country. Horses were dangerous, careless, overwrought beasts that had no business living among humans. She might sport cowboy boots and a hat just like all her neighbors, but she was terrified of them.
Five calico kittens stared back up at her. At least they were old enough to be weaned and she wouldn’t be up all night with an eyedropper like she sometimes was. They mewed piteously and she picked them up one by one, rubbing their tiny faces with her cheek. Kitten cuddles were one of the best perks of this ridiculous job.
A ridiculous job she wouldn’t hold onto much longer, at this rate.
*
“Another month and this will all be mine,” Nate said as he barged into Evan Mortimer’s ultramodern office and plunked a framed five-by-seven photograph of himself, his wife, Brenda, and his four-year-old daughter, Katy, on the gunmetal-gray desk.
Evan eyed the photograph with narrowed lids. “A month is plenty of time for me to get married, so don’t start moving in your things just yet.”
“Come on, if you were going to marry you’d have done it by now. You’re incapable of dating a woman for longer than twenty-four hours, let alone getting engaged. Time to admit defeat and hand Mortimer Innovations over to me.”