by Jackie Ivie
What could be keeping the emergency guy? It felt like hours since she’d called. Maybe the snowstorm had gotten worse. Hadn’t that been the forecast? That would slow him. Lack of information was going to hamper her rescue, too. He hadn’t even asked her name; which apartment building; or even which elevator, since this place had two in all four buildings. Oh…hell. He was probably lost.
The little red light she watched must have a life of its own. That; or someone was trying to communicate with her via Morse code or something. That was an idea. If she was technically inclined, she could even figure out how to do it, and send signals herself. That would be cool.
A thump hit the top of her elevator, reverberating through the enclosure. Thank goodness! Help had arrived. The doors split open next, sending a short spear of light at her that was so bright it pained.
Lenna pushed up against the wall joint behind her, narrowing her eyes against the weapon of light. Apparently, the elevator had stuck short of a floor. Far short. Normally it wouldn’t be that difficult for her to climb out, even in that one foot of space. Right now, she was having a hard time standing. Which was just ridiculous. She was a physical trainer. She could do sit-ups for hours if she wanted to.
And…look at that. The building power wasn’t even out. Only the elevator was a big black void. It looked like the superintendent had replaced the fluorescent tubing with one thousand watt bulbs, though. The effect created a rainbow-hued halo around her rescuer’s head. She was being rescued by an angel? She hoped he wasn’t coming to take her with him.
What a depressing thought.
A hand entered through the opening of the doors and smacked, palm upward, against the elevator’s mirrored ceiling. Unbelievable. It looked like he was going to try and lift the elevator box. By himself. With one arm. That was imaginative.
The elevator made a low grumbling noise as it jerked up and into place, causing her body to lurch with it. Lenna stumbled against the wall before catching herself, then squinted up at an impossibility of physics. The view didn’t change. There was one man in the aperture. He’d lifted the elevator by himself, and now he just stood there, holding it, without one bit of issue with the weight.
He couldn’t be an angel. Not unless they’d taken to discarding haloes and wings in favor of calf-length black trench coats. He was wet, too. Moisture dripped off him in rivulets, creating a puddle the superintendent wasn’t going to like.
Screw him.
“You coming?”
Her rescuer had a deep voice. Really deep. Throbbing with bass tones. Searching out the innermost portion of her and making it thump into life. Wow. Lenna would have gulped, but her mouth and throat were too dry for the effort.
“You need help?”
He put his other hand toward her, as if this was an everyday occurrence. Better and better. She wasn’t being rescued by a heavenly being, after all, but a superhero. A real superhero.
“Well?”
She licked lips that matched the moisture content of the Gobi Desert and answered. It was croaked and barely audible. “No.”
Now that she had some light she should gather her scattered gym clothes. They were sweaty and needed washing. She couldn’t leave them. There was her backpack to consider. Those didn’t come cheap. Her wallet. Cell. She should gather stuff. Prepare. Do anything other than stare up at him.
“Come out.”
“But…my stuff.”
“Leave it. Now.”
The elevator creaked slightly, as if the pressure of his hand might be bowing it. Lenna moved to slide around him, only her body didn’t work. She’d been in one position for too long and her legs were asleep. It was an awkward motion. Her knees didn’t bend. And he was too large to get around without touching. The moment that happened, his free arm grabbed her up, lifting her beneath the front opening of his coat. Lenna instinctively wrapped her arms about him, her left arm connecting with something hard and cold at his back. It was probably his equipment, although everything else on him had the same issue. Cold. Wet. Hard. Really hard.
Holy cow. Her superhero guy had an amazing body. Lenna had to resist running fingers along washboard abs and amazing pecs, all in perfect delineation since he was still holding an elevator up. Which was just imaginative. She was probably still in there having a hallucination because her sugar was out of control, and she’d suffered ketoacidosis before. She was prone to a reoccurrence.
He yanked his hand out. The elevator dropped the exact amount of space he’d raised it, and gave a loud squeal at not being able to fall further. And then it jumped a couple of times as if a bungee cord held it. All of it unreal and unbelievable. Lenna had never experienced anything like this. Not even the first time, when she’d gone comatose during her sophomore year of high school.
“Which one is yours?”
Lenna jumped. His arm tightened, pulling her even closer to him.
It was easier to just hold onto him and watch the indistinct weave of his shirt. Much easier. And soon she’d be in her very own kitchen, getting some much needed insulin into her system, and everything would be back to normal. She really needed a life. Just look at her; imagining superheroes coming to her rescue. In Minneapolis?
She was really pathetic sometimes.
“Which room?”
“I can make it from here. I think.” Now, why did she have to add the last of that? He’d think she was a vapid female. A clinging, helpless, ditzy—
A growl stopped her musings. He growled? Throbs of sound went right from his chest all through her, reaching the soles of her feet, the top of her head, tips of her fingers, and spreading all kinds of vibrations as it went. She’d never felt anything like it, either. Wicked. Sensual. Intense. Lenna tightened her loins against a tingling sensation that wasn’t possible, pulled her head back slightly, and looked up him.
He had black hair. Glossy. Thick. Long. No danger of early baldness here. All of that was fine with her. Nobody wanted an unattractive superhero, now did they? That was a fantasy killer. But…maybe it just looked black because it was wet. It was definitely dark. He wore it pulled into a tail, but wisps had escaped. They curled at the ends, where they stuck to his neck. He had a nice bit of whiskers, too, like he’d forgotten to shave. Or maybe he was one of those guys who didn’t have to work at growing a beard. Or maybe he liked the grunge look. Maybe he was lazy. Or, heaven forbid, he used it to disguise a weak chin.
She instantly discarded the last. The guy was sculpted. She’d taken a basic drawing class years ago and knew her facial proportions. His looked pretty good, even if his nose did appear a trifle large. That could be due to her angle, though. He was probably perfectly symmetrical and not half bad-looking. And then he looked down and took every wit left to her.
Holy shit. And she had to think of a better expletive.
Her rescuer wasn’t just handsome, he was unreal. Stunning. Spectacular. Drop-dead, knock-them-out-of-their-panties, gorgeous. Her jaw dropped and she didn’t even think of stopping it. She didn’t imagine the instant uptick of her pulse, either. None of which he could miss.
This wasn’t remotely fair. But it was cool. It didn’t even matter if she was envisioning this while stuck in an elevator. Getting held in this guy’s arms and gazing into his dark eyes was worth it. Why, if she’d known who they’d send, she’d have called 911 earlier. She’d known paramedics were cute. Firemen, too. They took off their shirts to show endless muscle for their beefcake calendars every year. Some of them were on billboards. Television ads. Not one of them was this good-looking. If her rescuer had been on the cover they wouldn’t need donations.
“You live here?”
Bass tones rumbled through her again, sounding angry. They didn’t match his expression. The look in his eye was more than interested, and that just made the tingle start up again. Lenna tightened her buttocks this time. She nodded.
He pursed his lips, narrowed his cheeks, and gained another measure of beauty. She nearly sighed before catching it.
“Oh. 1208.”
“Hold on.”
Hold on? Was he dense? There wasn’t any space between them as he accessed the stairwell and started climbing. The guy moved with a speed that blurred walls, making them look psychedelic, rather than graffiti-ridden. Or was he even climbing? Felt more like flying. She didn’t look to verify it. She couldn’t. She was in a realm of experience that had yet to absorb the impact from gazing at him. She shut her eyes and just existed. And then she had to deal with the assault on her other senses. Touch. Smell. His was a nice mixture of wet leather, some sort of cologne, and a unique scent that must be him.
She wasn’t mistaken earlier. He was perfectly toned and fit, meshing nicely where they touched, his muscles flexing as they moved. There wasn’t a hint of physical exertion from climbing stairs with her glued to his side. Not a bit of it from lifting an elevator that probably weighed more than a car, either. No heavy breathing. No trace of sweat. No elevated heart rate. Nothing. Just solid man.
Was he real? Was any of this real? Was she, even now, entering an unconscious stage that portended the end? Jeez. She was only twenty-four. She hadn’t started living yet. She hadn’t even composed her bucket list.
“It’s locked.”
The rumble of words teased her ear. She opened her eyes and only thought about asking him to put her down before discarding it. Time enough for that later. Having this guy rescue and then carry her was going to imbue her dreams for the next several months if she was lucky.
“Your door. It’s locked.”
Lenna swiveled her head to look across at the peephole of her door with the apartment number on a plate right beneath it. This guy must be enormous. They’d drilled that hole at the five foot ten level. She needed a stool to use it.
“Where is your key?”
“Key?”
“You want me to break it down?”
His eyes flared a bit when he said it, and there was a reaction through his arms as they trembled, but that was ridiculous, too. It was fantasy-driven, though. Pure and heavenly.
“My…pocket.”
He shifted her to one shoulder, holding her while one hand slid up the back of her leg. Lenna moved to stop him. Getting rescued and then carried by drop-dead gorgeous paramedics were one thing. Copping a feel was completely off limits. She really needed her insulin. And water. Fast. She was worse than weak and defenseless. Her efforts didn’t do much more than hold him as he checked each buttock in turn, sending more unwarranted sexual tingling. And that meant she had to do more tightening right where he was touching.
“Nothing.”
Nothing? That was deflating. She’d worked hard on her glutes. Sweating and running and squatting to get perfect shape and definition. She looked great. And he called it nothing with his palm right atop one side.
“There is nothing in your pocket.”
“That’s because…it’s it my gym bag.” Her voice sounded breathless. Anticipatory. Excited.
Man. She was really pathetic.
“Back there?”
“Yes.”
He grunted, and moved his hand away. She very nearly argued the loss, and that was just more idiocy in a night of it. She couldn’t see what he did, but the next moment, he went right through her door, without expending any effort, although she heard wood splinter in protest. He’d torn her deadbolt out? No. That was wrong. The deadbolt was still securely in its slot. He’d ripped that chunk of door frame off. Lenna had a second to verify that before he marched right past her combination kitchen/living area and into the closet-sized bedroom beyond. The superintendent was going to freak. She should be freaking.
“Wait! I need my medicine! You can’t—”
“No.”
No?
She bounced atop her full sized bed, got wrapped in his arms with the upward motion, before dropping with the entire length of him atop her. And then she dealt with heavy, massive male, holding her down. Forcing her. Worse than Chet. This guy didn’t leave her much room to breathe, either. But she was using it. Panting. Pulling enough air to scream. And then he stopped everything with a finger to her lips. Just one.
The instant touch halted every notion to struggle, or do anything other than vibrate with a series of shivers that emanated from her mouth and just kept intensifying. The flare was back in his eyes again, too. Damn, but he was handsome. Even if he was a rapist, he was pure masculine beauty. The police sketch artist wasn’t going to believe her description.
Why did she have such asinine thoughts now? She should be struggling. Straining. Hitting his nose with the ball of her hand. Drilling her nails into his eyes. Using her elbow on his esophagus. Hitting his groin. Everything she’d been taught. Anything other than staring mesmerized into his eyes like a deer caught in the proverbial headlights.
His brows came down slightly as he locked gazes with her, unblinking, unmoving, holding her hypnotized with nothing more than a look. But what a look! He might have eyes so dark they looked black, but they weren’t a hard, unyielding shade. They were deep, mysterious, and turning the rivulet of shivers she suffered into a blizzard of them.
And then his lips opened, revealing nasty-looking spikes. Time stilled. Her ears rang with the rush of blood. Her eyes went huge. Fangs? Her mind fought the proof right before her eyes. It wasn’t possible. Vampires didn’t exist. She didn’t believe it. She’d never believe it. She was seeing things. She hadn’t just been rescued by a vampire who was now going to drain her blood for his efforts. Such a thing just wasn’t possible.
He used his thumb to tip her head up. Higher. The move strained the cords on her neck until her view was the headboard. And she just let him. She couldn’t seem to stop it. Everything about her reaction was alien. Her body tightened. Prepared. Grew ready. Taut. And desperately needy. As if she coiled atop a precipice, eager to spring over it.
He stabbed into her neck, sending liquid fire into her. Lenna jolted closer to him, and then clung in place as the pain altered to incendiary flickers, and then morphed into such a sensation of warmth and joy and bliss, she writhed against him in a pantomime of perfect orgasmic ecstasy. He took and she gave. Willingly. Wonderingly. Rapture filled her. Pleasure coursed over her. Satiation came for her and claimed her. All of it beyond anything she’d ever dreamt or imagined.
And if this was death, it wasn’t such a bad way to go.
CHAPTER THREE
The moment he tasted her, Rafaele knew.
He knew.
Every dead and dormant cell felt like it sparked to life, infusing him with a sensation of absolute and complete amazement. Her fluid wasn’t just sweet, it was perfect. Nectar of the gods. Elixir of heaven. Font of all he craved. His entire frame vibrated in reaction until her little bedstead moved with it.
He’d waited eons for just such a thing…and it was better than imagined! More complete than any dream.
By all he held sacred, he’d found his mate!
Rafaele pulled from her with great reluctance, licking the wounds closed while he worked at controlling a rapacious hunger for more. Much more. An eternity of more; so much more, it would fill the void of nothingness that was his world and make it whole. Complete. Perfect.
Madres de Dios!
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Not now. Not here! This was supposed to be a quick feeding. Payback for the loss of his rum-soaked dinner. A celebration of his assignment earlier. A tasty treat without complications. Sustenance. That’s what this was supposed to be. It wasn’t to be a melding of such wonder it took his senses and scattered them.
And look at what he’d done and how he’d done it!
There wasn’t anything romantic or caring or lover-like about this…and he’d had centuries to prepare! Bastardo! He’d been as bestial as those Scandinavian swine aboard the ship. But how could he have known? Nothing about her had warned him.
She wasn’t moving. Rafaele crawled onto the
mattress again, awaiting her next breath with every awakened nerve primed for it. There! She breathed. Slight and barely lifting her chest, but she still lived. If he concentrated he could hear her heartbeat. Weak. Faint.
He had to do something! But what? How? What had she been telling him? Medicine? That was it. She needed insulin. What the devil did that look like? Where would she keep it? And how much was he to give her? And what would happen if it was too much? Or too little?
“Mi Amor.”
He leaned down to whisper it at her ear and got a slight shift of her shoulder at his voice.
“You must help me. I do not comprehend this insulin. You must tell me where it is and how to use it! Where? How much do I use? How do I deliver it? Por favor?”
This was terrible. He was forever getting into a mess, but this was the worst. He reached for his cell to call for help, but got nothing. A check of the screen showed the reason. They’d already cancelled it.
“Damn and blast everything! And everyone! Bastard!”
Rafaele pitched the phone, pushed up from the bed, stepped the one pace back to the wall, putting both hands to his ears. What had he done? And how could he fix it? Imbecile! Cretin! He was the lowest of the low! A cur among creatures. No. A worm! And there was nothing he could think of—
Wait! He could use her cell phone…but then he remembered. He’d made her leave it in the elevator, too. It had been so stupid. But…how could he have known? Back then he’d been fixated on one thing – what he could take from her. He hadn’t known she was his mate! The most important individual in his afterlife. The woman to make him completely whole. There should’ve been some warning! Something!