by Jessica Lee
“Answer me, Guerino.” She yanked a handful of hair at the back of his head, sending a jolt straight to his shaft. He sucked in a lungful of air through his teeth. “Do you want to fuck me?” This time, her tongue followed her words, the tip tracing the curve of his ear.
“Yes.” He tightened his hold around her body, pressing her into his chest. God, he loved the way she felt in his arms. The way her curves molded to his frame. The full swell of her breasts next to his heart—a perfect fit. Shit. Lust had damn near fried his brain cells.
“Yes, what?”
A groan rolled from his throat. “Please allow me to fuck you.”
She plunged onto his shaft, the heat and clasp of her body short-circuiting what was left of his brain cells.
“Eve,” he cried out.
Again she surged up, then drove herself onto him once more. His balls tightened, and the pressure of his release pulsed at the base of his cock. No way would he last. Christ. It was too good. Guerin reached for her hips, working her up and down his length. Eve teased his lips with her own, and Guerin hungrily opened, welcoming her inside. Their tongues mimicked the lust-filled dance their bodies performed. The pounding of his heart beat a deafening staccato in his ears.
He could barely breathe.
So good.
Guerin broke away and buried his face in the curve of her neck, the sweet smell of her skin and sweat a heady feast to his senses. Have to focus. Don’t want to let go.
Need to come.
No. Fuck. No.
Need to hold on.
Just one more minute. So good.
So damn good.
Eve’s nails raked down his back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake and catching him off guard. Guerin’s neck arched at the same moment his fragile control snapped. He cried out in pain—in ecstasy—and the head of his cock erupted. On and on his release pumped, and Guerin rocked his hips in time to the waves of his orgasm. His eyelids shuttered under the pleasure, and on the other side of the lids, a dazzling swirl of stars swam. It was as if he was on some kind of mind-altering drug trip—and he never wanted the high to end.
Eve shuddered in his arms, his name on her lips snatching him back to reality. He held her until the last tremor rolled through her body. Guerin collapsed onto the mattress, taking her with him. Except for the sound of their heavy breathing, they lay in silence, Eve on his chest with his cock still buried inside.
Chapter Nine
“Shit!” Arran slung his cell across the room. The device landed with a soft thump in the center of the king-size bed he shared with Gabrielle. Voice mail again. Arran’s forty-eight-hour reprieve was up, and unless Guerin contacted him soon with news, he was going to have to face Kenric with the truth.
He’d never felt so torn in his life.
Torn between his loyalty to Kenric, and the promises he’d made to Guerin. They were ripping him in two.
But the lack of contact from Guerin had already tripped the switch in his head that said their second-in-command was in trouble. So in reality, he didn’t have a choice.
“Dammit.” Arran crossed the room, plopped on the edge of the bed, and grabbed his boots. He just hated that it had to be him tasked with laying this bombshell on Kenric.
“When are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
Arran glanced up at the sweet sound of his mate’s voice. Gabrielle stood in the bathroom doorway. A large white towel wrapped her torso, while she worked the dampness from her dark locks with another. God, she was breathtaking. He’d never understand how he could deserve such a treasure in his life.
“What do you mean?” Arran shot his gaze down to the black leather and rubber in his hands. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Yeah. Right.” The soft brush of her feet over the carpeted surface said his mate drew closer. But he didn’t need his ears for confirmation. The tingle under his skin that ran straight to his cock always alerted him to her presence.
“Have you forgotten we’re connected, mate?” Gabrielle pressed her way between his thighs, forcing him to release his grip on the boots. But that was fine with him; he’d much rather have his hands wrapped around his woman.
Arran slid his palms over the exposed section of creamy flesh along her legs, then up and over the curve of her hip. “Now how could I forget something like that?” He leaned forward, and using the long, sharp tips of his fangs, bit into the cotton hiding her curves and pulled it free. The towel dropped to the floor. “Mmm…that’s more like it.” Arran flicked his tongue over one hard pink nipple. A gasp escaped her lips right before she wiggled, breaking free of his hold.
“That’s not going to work this time, vampire.” She wagged a lone finger. “I’ve tried to give you time and ignored the walls you’ve put up, blocking me from some of your thoughts. But I don’t like the effect this…this problem is having on you.” Gabrielle moved back between his legs, her warm palms going to his cheeks, embracing him. Arran closed his eyes, soaking in the serenity she brought to his soul. “I’m worried about you,” she whispered. Arran lifted his eyelids. He hated the sound of those four words on her tongue. “I’m your mate—your other half. You don’t have to carry whatever this is alone.”
No one else on the planet could get inside his heart like Gabrielle. Get inside and melt the damn thing down. He pressed his hands to hers.
“I know,” he breathed. “I know you’re there for me.” Arran nodded. “But the issue I’ve been dealing with is something that deserves to be revealed to someone else, before I have the right to share it—even with my mate.”
Gabrielle slid her palms free. “Fair enough.” She dipped low, pulled the towel from the floor, and wrapped it back around herself. “Is this…issue something you plan to, or are able to, reveal soon?”
Arran finished tying the laces of his second boot and stood. “I don’t have a choice. The truth has to come out—and now.” He grasped Gabrielle by the arms and tugged her to his chest, slamming his lips to hers as if the taste of her mouth—her love—would give him the strength he needed to do what had to be done tonight. “Need you,” he mumbled against her soft flesh, driving his fingers through her damp hair. “So much.”
“You have me. Forever.”
A groan escaped his throat, and he pressed her backward, biting, sucking, their tongues dueling for more. He’d had every intention of walking out the door the moment he stood. But then he was in Gabrielle’s arms, and at that second, nothing else mattered more than being inside her. God yes, she was his other half, and before all hell broke loose, he wanted her one more time. Just like this.
Gabrielle’s back bumped the wall, and Arran jerked her towel. Raw.
Her chest heaved with each breath. Wild.
He spun her, placing her face against the wall. “Open for me,” he commanded.
Mine.
She spread her legs, and a moan bubbled up from his chest at the sight. His cock throbbed in response. Arran unbuttoned his jeans and lowered his fly; the slight tremble racing over his mate’s flesh at the sound did not escape his attention. He closed the gap between them, pressing his hard shaft between the folds of her ass.
“Oh, God…,” she cried.
Dampness greeted the head of his erection, sending a shiver of pleasure over his skin. So wet.
“You ready, Kitten?” He slid the hard length of his rod back and forth, brushing the opening to her core with each pass. Gabrielle pressed back into him.
“Yes! Christ, Arran. Take me.” She tossed her head to the side, exposing the pulse pounding at her neck. Arran hissed.
Then dove.
His fangs sank into her flesh as he thrust his cock into her heat. Arran roared inside his head from the pleasure burning a path along his nerve endings. Oh, fuck! The truth would have to wait just a few more minutes.
…
Thirty minutes later, Arran stood outside the door leading to Markus’s basement holding area. Most mature vamps could go longer than two days between feedings, but w
ith Markus ingesting so little blood in spite of Kenric’s attempts to basically force the fluid down his throat, their commander was down there every other day.
Tonight was no different.
The wood swung open and the tall dark figure of the Enclave’s master strode through. Arran pushed away from the same spot Kenric had stood the other night and fell in step behind the commander.
“Something you’ve come to tell me?” Kenric continued on toward his office, never glancing back. Arran followed. Once inside, Kenric rotated and leaned against the front of his desk, waiting for Arran to cross the threshold. “Close the door,” he directed as Arran joined him in the privacy of the room.
Arran scrubbed the palms of his hands back and forth together, finding it hard to remain still. Dammit. He glanced up at Kenric sitting there with his arms crossed, and the job of looking the other male in the eye became increasingly difficult.
“You want to sit down?” Kenric pointed to a chair.
“No.” Arran shook his head. “Rather stand.” He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “Thanks,” he tossed out in afterthought.
“Arran…” The Enclave master’s voice dipped low. “Either you spill what the hell is going on with you and Guerin, or so help me I’m about to rip—”
“Guerin went to Germany. He’s looking for your daughter.”
Kenric froze.
Oh shit. What the hell was I thinking? Arran had pulled the pin and dropped the info on Kenric like a grenade.
The master of the Enclave straightened to his full height. His six-foot-four frame suddenly loomed a hell of a lot larger, but Arran stood his ground. It was time Kenric knew the whole story, and he had every reason in the world to be mad as hell.
“What did you just say?” Kenric bellowed. “Because either you’ve lost your fucking mind, or I’m hearing things.”
“Guerin is in Nuremberg trying to find Eve.”
Kenric shook his head. “You’re not making any damn sense.” He reached up and sliced his fingers through his dark hair. “Who the hell is Eve? And don’t give me some bullshit again that she’s my daughter.” A scowl registered on his face. “You’ve been a vampire way too long not to know that our kind are sterile.” He turned and marched around his desk, yanked his chair out, and shoved himself into the seat, facing Arran. “Who told you this crazy-ass story?”
Arran moved to the front of Kenric’s desk. The commander swiveled in his seat, adjusting to hold his gaze. Arran leaned in, dropping his hands onto the wooden surface.
“Marguerite made the claim. Right before she died.”
Kenric’s jaw ticked as if he were chewing on the revelation, then a snarl formed. “No. Way. In. Hell,” he bit out, each word carefully enunciated as if the bold declaration alone could make it a fact. Kenric launched from his seat, putting them face-to-face. “Marguerite would say anything—do anything—especially with her last breath—to make sure she fucked me over as much as possible.” He scoffed and backed away.
“We’re not the only ones she’s told this story to, Kenric.”
His gaze narrowed. “Who? Markus?”
Arran nodded.
“So he’s your source for the truth?” Kenric rolled his eyes and knocked his chair away with the back of his legs, hurtling it into the wall with a bang. “Dammit. That’s all you’ve got?”
Before Arran could form his next word, Kenric rounded his desk and was in Arran’s face. “I want Guerin back here. Now!” He retreated an inch. “I assume you can reach him, since I’m sure you’re aware he’s not answering my calls.”
“That’s why I’m here tonight. I haven’t been able to reach Guerin for two days.”
“Son of a…” Kenric swiped a hand over his face and turned away. “Explain,” he growled. “All of it.” He pivoted, hitting Arran with a hard glare. “From the beginning. Every word. Every detail.”
Arran slumped into the nearest chair. The air he hadn’t realized was trapped in his chest came rushing out along with the events he’d kept hidden over the last thirty days. He began with Marguerite’s confession along with her declaration that his prodigy would be coming for the Enclave.
Next, Arran revealed their decision to keep the revelation from Kenric until Guerin could gain positive proof of Marguerite’s claim. Then he told of Markus’s validation of Marguerite’s statement before her death and of Eve’s last known whereabouts: Nuremberg, Germany. Lastly, he filled Kenric in on what few conversations he’d had with Guerin since his departure.
Through it all, Kenric remained silent and unmoving. Even during the details of Arran’s last contact with Guerin. The one were Guerin had supposed confirmation of Eve’s existence from Markus’s source, and a lead to the girl’s whereabouts.
Silence. Arran propped his elbows on this thighs and rubbed his bare palms together. He stared at the floor. Damn, the quiet was unnerving. He could only imagine the turmoil spinning with hurricane force inside Kenric’s head.
“Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.” Arran swung his gaze up from the hardwood planks toward Kenric. “Say the word, and it’s done.”
“How is it possible?” Kenric whispered, glaring at some distant point beyond Arran.
“We don’t know. Markus didn’t know. Marguerite never told him. At least that’s what he said.”
Kenric whirled and headed in the direction of the office door.
“Where are you going?” Arran sprang from his seat.
With his palm wrapped around the doorknob, Kenric glanced over his shoulder at Arran. “Nuremberg.”
Chapter Ten
Eve hadn’t moved since her last orgasm. In fact, she’d lost track of time and couldn’t remember when she’d ever stayed in a man’s arms after sex. Damn, when had she ever lain with anyone? Her past encounters had been all about reaching a satisfying ending, then parting ways. That was it.
Clean and simple.
She lifted her lashes and peered up at the strong features of her lover. An odd fluttering sensation quivered in her chest, then settled in her gut. Eve bit her lip, stifling a groan. Nothing about Guerino Lombardi was either clean or simple. The man was complex, provocative, and after spending the last few hours with him—oh, yes—deliciously dirty.
“Time for answers, Lombardi.” She pushed back into a sitting position, not at all happy with the warm and fuzzy feelings swimming around in her stomach. Ridiculous. Warm and fuzzy she was not.
“Well, that didn’t last long.” Guerin lifted his head from the bed, then braced his upper body on his elbows.
“What?” She shrugged, and then brushed her fingers through her hair, giving him her best cool and collected face.
“Our sexually induced truce.” He quirked a smile
She scoffed. “We scratched an itch, Lombardi.” Eve pulled the bedsheet up and over her breasts. She searched the room, needing anything but those dark-brown eyes of his to focus on, and added, “What gave you the idea there was a truce?”
“Maybe it was when you shoved your vein in my face?” he snapped. “Or perhaps when you asked me to fuck you?”
Eve swung her gaze back to him, heat scorching her face. “I believe those UV rays may have fried some of that gray matter of yours.” She let the words linger, allowing the venom they contained to sink deep. “I wasn’t the one doing the begging…” Eve snatched the sheet and scrambled from the bed, wrapping it around her torso. “You’ve had a hard-on since we met. I’m surprised you’ve stayed coherent considering the massive blood loss.” Silence filled the room—the uneasy kind of stillness that surrounds someone when they were the butt of a joke but somehow the last one to know. Eve whipped around.
A grin sat on Guerin’s face, one that said someone’s ego had not only been stroked but perhaps licked in the process. With one hand clasped to the bed linen, Eve flung the other up and wagged a finger at his expression. “What are you smiling about?”
“Massive, huh?”
Air rushed from her lungs, as if h
is question were a needle piercing the bubble containing her anger. So not fair! How did he do that? She wanted to be mad.
Pissed as hell.
But just like that, he’d tipped the scale, throwing her off-balance. Infuriating—and exhilarating all at the same time. She’d always been the one in control. If there was one thing her mother had taught her, and taught her well, it was to never allow a man to get the upper hand. But this submissive, who soaked up pain and domination with a thirst that left her dry and panting, put other alphas to shame. And the combination…intoxicating.
“You are so…” She shook her head.
“What?” He cocked his head, the motion and spark in his eyes daring her to say something to encourage him even more. Shit. She had to keep her head. Her life depended on it.
“I need a shower.” Eve gathered the sheet around her and marched toward the bathroom.
“Leaving me alone?”
Eve stopped in her tracks.
“You’re not worried I’ll bolt without a cage to hold me?” His words skated down her spine. The challenge in them, unmistakable. He’d moved and stood behind her. She didn’t need to look. The heat of his body—his presence—vibrated under her skin.
With her spine straight and her chin up, Eve pivoted. “Do I need to place you behind bars, vampire?” She lifted her gaze to his. “Or perhaps shackle you to the floor with silver manacles?”
His eyes narrowed, igniting a flicker of red around the pupil. But whether it was a result of anger or arousal, she wasn’t sure. The air separating their bodies sparked, the hairs on her arms standing on end. Eve swallowed hard, her throat suddenly parched. If only containing this male were as simple as a lock and key. “No…,” she added. “I don’t think either will be necessary, because you won’t be going anywhere. Not till I’m ready for you to leave.” Eve lifted a brow, knowing she’d stabbed a virtual hot poker into the testosterone-filled beast. “We’re not finished here.” What the hell? Guerin had come looking for her and had yet to give her any answers. Granted, he’d proved he wasn’t part of Seth’s colony. But what was his agenda, really?