by Laura Kaye
Kael cleaned up his mess and turned to the pantry. He added apples, oranges, and mixed nuts to the tray. The meal was turning into quite a feast, igniting a satisfied warmth in his gut. He yearned to see her nourished at his hand. He added a chilled bottle of water and a crystal goblet to the tray. He debated wine, but wanted them both clearheaded for the conversation he hoped they’d have.
As he wandered back through the halls, he whistled again as he juggled his load. Liam sprung from an armchair in the corner of the feeding room when Kael breezed in. The warrior’s eyes went wide as he surveyed the contents of the weighted-down tray.
Kael settled the meal on the round table next to the bed, then poured the water into the glass. Satisfied, he turned and surveyed the room. The goblet of Shayla’s blood and his dagger still sat on the stand across the room, and the blindfold and a single white flower lay on the floor.
They needed a clean slate. Those things had to go. He glanced at Liam. “I’ve got it from here.”
“As you wish, my lord.” Liam rose and made for the door.
“Brother?” Kael called out.
The warrior stopped with his hand on the knob and looked over his shoulder. “Yes?”
“I won’t forget what you’ve done for me this night.” Because Liam’s words and actions—his willingness to fight with Kael—were quite possibly going to give him a second chance at life.
A real life. One with companionship and family and love.
Liam grinned. “Just don’t fuck it up again.” He winked. “My lord.” He didn’t even try to hide his smile as he left the room. The ornate door clicked behind him.
Kael chuffed out a laugh. And then there was nothing to do but wait.
He busied himself picking up and putting away the blindfold, cleaning and sheathing his dagger, and placing the small white flower on the edge of the plate of food. All of this allowed him to avoid deciding what to do with her blood. He hated to waste something so precious—precious not just because it was a virgin’s blood, but because it was her blood. But if she rejected him, he wouldn’t deserve it. And if she didn’t, well…hopefully he’d never have to feed from a cup again.
He stared at the goblet a moment longer, then finally placed it on a shelf inside the large cabinet. His fangs stretched out in his mouth as the scent of it infused his consciousness. His throat burned and constricted as he secured the doors. Hunger clenched in his gut. Hunger for so much more than blood…
Before long, footsteps echoed in the exterior corridor and a knock sounded at the back door.
Kael swallowed hard and strode to the center of the room. “Come.”
Simon Freneau pushed through the door and stopped on the threshold, bowing his head. “Good evening, Your Highness.”
Kael stepped forward and offered his hand. “Simon. Good to see you again.” The man nodded and shook Kael’s hand, but his furrowed brow didn’t speak of pleasure. Kael knew how protective the trainers were of the Proffered. He clearly had some amends to make. Kael’s mistake, the failed hypnotism in particular, had made Simon look bad too. The women were told the pain of the whole experience was minimal to none, and that was true. Usually. “It won’t happen again.”
Not the least because he hoped to never again require the services of the Proffered. But that was up to Shayla—and the mating bond, though Kael swore the mystical connection of a blood match had been weaving its tendrils around him all night, drawing him to her. Body, mind and soul.
Simon nodded again and the muscles in his face relaxed, though he still didn’t smile. “May I present to you the Proffered?”
“Please.” Kael braced against the anticipation surging through him. He could smell Shayla, hear her small movements in the hallway.
Finally, she appeared in the doorway, a vision in a fresh white silk robe and styled mahogany hair. She stepped in and cleared the door, then took her standing position with her hands behind her back and her head bowed.
Simon looked between them once, leveled a pointed stare at Kael, and stepped backward through the door.
Shayla was counting her breaths again, trying to rein in her emotions, but his very presence was nearly undoing the past hour of relaxation she’d attempted. She’d started out with a quick yoga routine, stretching and working her muscles, then soaked in the tub. The concentration the braiding took also provided a great distraction, but it still seemed time had sped up when Master Simon knocked on her door.
Now that she was before Kael again, her neck and shoulders tightened as her apprehension increased.
“Shayla, look at me.”
As much as she’d been waiting for his voice, it still startled her. His use of her name. His tender, regretful tone.
She knew she must obey, but was afraid if she did, she’d lose control of her emotions—and she wasn’t sure whether hurt or anger would win out. Neither was appropriate to show, and both were likely to result in tears.
The king stepped toward her until he was easily within arm’s reach. “Shayla,” he whispered, coaxing her.
A long moment passed. And then he fell to his knees before her, his face tilted upward so their eyes could finally meet.
She gasped and her mouth dropped open. He was more fascinating, more gorgeous, than she had even fully recalled. Fire danced behind his eyes, and flashes of gold shined out through the emerald. He was smiling, and it highlighted the strong masculine angles of his jaw and cheeks so vividly it stole her breath. A reaction amplified by the appearance of the sharp tips of his fangs. Shayla licked her lips.
Despite being on his knees, he radiated such palpable power she could feel it jangling in the air between them.
Oh, God. He’s on his knees.
A throaty sigh escaped her as she dropped to her own, head once again bowed. She was always to be below him.
“Now I can’t see you again.” The warm, amused tone was back. “Please look at me.”
Taking a deep breath, Shayla finally obeyed. Her gaze raked over his intricate tartan robes before finally settling on his handsome face. When their eyes met, the smile he let loose dazzled her, luring her to smile back. His playfulness, the incredible sense of ease now possessing him, made it harder to hold on to her anger.
“Thank you,” he said. She nodded. “I have some things I’d like to say to you. Are you willing to hear them?”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
Kael frowned for a moment, and Shayla didn’t have time to figure out why before he spoke again. “I hurt you, and I owe you an apology.”
She inhaled to speak, but he cocked his eyebrow and she fell silent. She nodded again instead.
“I don’t just mean for hurting you with the knife, although I am…beyond sorry you had to endure that.” He grasped one of her hands in both of his and her lips fell open. His touch was so warm, so encompassing, so comforting, even though her one hand continued to ache. “I lost control and it compromised your safety, your well-being, and that is my first responsibility to the Proffered.”
Shayla’s shoulders and gaze dropped as he referred to her title again. She internally reprimanded herself for expecting anything else.
The fingers on his free hand nudged her chin up and beckoned her to look at him. “Shayla, I lost control because I…I felt something, with you. Something I don’t feel…ever. I…”
She should’ve been focusing, listening, but… Did he just say he felt something for me? With me? Lost control because he felt something…as in, he has feelings? For me?
He chuckled. “Where did you go, young one?”
Shayla shook her head. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”
He squeezed her hand and dipped his head to look up into her once again diverted gaze. “Shayla, could you please call me Kael?”
Her eyes flew to his and she gaped. “Uh. Yes?”
His grin brightened his whole face. “Was that a question?”
“No, Sir—er, Kael.” A blush bloomed hot on her face. It was a good thing she wa
s on her knees, because the room began to spin.
“Mmm, that is lovely. And so fragrant.” He fingered her cheek. “I would like to taste you, Shayla.”
She gulped and shuddered as her heart took off at a mad gallop. Did that mean he would feed from her now? She didn’t know. “O-okay” was all she could manage.
“Okay,” he whispered as he leaned in slowly. So slowly. Her lips parted in needy anticipation. And then his mouth finally found hers.
This wasn’t the wild kiss he’d claimed her with earlier. His lips claimed hers gently, reverently, as if he was savoring small tastes of a rare gourmet meal. One large hand grasped her shoulder and the other cupped her cheek—both brought her closer to him. He pulled and sucked at her lips, his hair falling around their faces as he rose up over her. She opened herself before he even demanded it of her—her body remembered his exquisite taste and begged for its return. Their tongues stroked and explored, but she needed more. She pushed forward just enough to suck his whole tongue deep into her mouth.
Sweet fulfillment exploded against her taste buds, dragging whimpers and moans from her. He groaned and her hands flew to his hair. Her left hand found masses of thick silky bronze she gripped and tugged as she held him to her, but her right hand fell on his jeweled braid. Knowing the significance of it, she yanked her hand back, afraid she’d offended him.
But then his big hand grasped hers where it rested against his chest and pulled it back up to his head. “Hold me,” he whispered against her lips. “Touch me.”
Shayla moaned her assent as her fingers wrapped around the braid and the jewels bit lightly into her skin.
Dear God she would hold him and touch him as much as he wanted. Now. Tonight. Tomorrow.
Forever.
Kael wanted to go slow. He wanted to seduce her—not just her body, but her heart, her mind. But his body was nearly vibrating with the difficulty of restraining himself. Her lust and adrenaline were heady scents in the air, but nothing compared to the tantalizing aroma of the sweetness of her arousal. Except maybe the deep sense of psychic calm that had invaded him since she’d returned.
His cock came to life, his fangs stretched out and rubbed dangerously against her tongue and lips.He pulled back. When he bit her this time, he didn’t want it to be an accident.
“Can you forgive me, Shayla?” He searched her blue-green gaze. His life seemed to hang in the anticipation of her words.
She was breathing heavily and trembling. Her gaze was just as searching. “You hurt me.”
Her words crushed him with guilt and enlivened him with pride in her for standing up for herself. The multiple sides of her personality fascinated him. She could be both submissive and fierce, obedient and challenging. And he adored that about her. “Yes.”
She nailed him with a stare. “Not just with the knife.”
A single nod. “I know. I’m sorry. I took my fear out on you. It was unfair and unkind. I truly regret it.”
Shayla gave him an appraising look. Finally she sighed. “Don’t do it again.” The cocked brow above her blue eye enchanted him.
This wasn’t a woman he could push around. This was a woman who would push back. He was thrilled. He bowed his head. “You have my word.” She studied him, then nodded. He smiled. “Yes?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He grasped her cheeks and pressed his lips to hers. “Thank you.” He tilted his head and kissed her right eye. “Thank you.” Then her left. “Thank you.”
She laughed as she fisted her hands in the thick folds of his robes. The delighted sound made his chest expand.
“My Shayla.” Ask her. Tell her. Kael pulled back and licked his lips.
“What is it?” She reached a tentative hand up, her eyes asking permission. He nodded and her small, warm palm cupped his cheekbone, stroked his brow, tucked a thick strand of hair back off his face. Each gesture left him with the overwhelming feeling of being cared for.
It has been so long….
“I need you to understand me.” He grasped her hand and kissed over her life and love lines. She tilted her head. “I want you.”
“Good.” She smiled. “You have me.”
Chapter 7
Shayla meant those words down deep.
She’d fantasized about this man for years now. She’d had her first orgasms at the mere idea of him. Later orgasms had involved the only image she’d ever seen of him—a portrait in which the artist had well captured his powerful otherworldliness that attracted her so.
Not all her fantasies involving him had been sexual, either. She’d dreamed of fighting by his side, gutting a Soul Eater from navel to sternum and watching the life bleed out of its eyes. She knew that wasn’t likely, of course. Though she was trained in martial arts and had taken shooting lessons, she knew enough to know she didn’t have the expertise to be anything but liability in a real fight. But that didn’t keep the violent images out of her secret imaginings.
Now that she’d met Kael, though, and felt the unbelievably intense pull to him, she knew her attraction was to more than just the idea of him, the fantasy of him.
It was to Kael, the man.
And he wanted her, too.
“You have me,” she repeated, breathless as she watched his green eyes flare. “Have me.”
Kael’s mouth dropped open and Shayla gasped as she caught the white flash of a sharp tooth. She was darkly fascinated by this side of him and shivered at the thought that the man before her was not just a man, but a vampire.
Wanting him to know she was serious, she extended her wrist to him.
In one swift motion, he grasped it and pulled both of them to their feet. She gasped and fell into him. “Not. This. Time.” His big hand cradled her face. “This time I want my mouth on you.”
The words left her dizzy with want.
She followed him to the massive iron bed and watched, fascinated, as he unclasped his magnificent tartan robes. He still wore the thin green silk robe from before underneath, but she was distracted from thinking about that when he turned toward the bed and, in a graceful flick of his wrists, unfurled the layered tartans out over the bedding in a soft, gentle pillowing of fabric.
Shayla was glad he turned back to her so quickly. She wanted what was about to happen and her body ached for things she didn’t even have the words to name, but if he gave her the chance to get nervous, to overthink it, she might.
He didn’t give her the time.
Kael grasped her shoulders and pulled her against him, his mouth finding hers as if they’d never left off earlier. As her lips and tongue responded, he wrapped his arms around her. One large hand cradled her head while the other smoothed down over her back and settled just above her rear. The strength of his embrace pressed their bodies together. He was hard and thick and long between them. Need scorched through her veins. She writhed and pushed against him.
They kissed and explored each other until Kael was all that existed. His heat surrounded her. His male spice filled her nose and excited her palate. His touch, tender and possessive at the same time, set every nerve ending on fire.
He pulled away from her mouth and she gasped for breath, then moaned as he trailed openmouthed kisses and licks and long teasing drags of what had to be his fangs along her jaw and down her neck. He sucked on the pulse point below her ear. “I will take care of you, Shayla,” he whispered. She shivered and tilted her neck for his exploration.
She cupped the back of his head as he leaned down to explore her body. The cool silk of her robe slid off her shoulders under the direction of his hands, then settled around her biceps like a shawl. He fumbled at her waist and the belt dropped, freeing the robe to swing open. Then he raked his gaze from her face to her legs.
His observation set off an electric current down her center. His lips glistened as he licked them.
When he met her eyes again, his were blazing. The brilliant green hue wavered and intensified. He yanked the tie to his own robe free and the fabric f
ell open, revealing a swath of muscular and marked male flesh from throat to groin.
An intricate black design pulled her attention from his face to the light golden skin of his chest. Mostly visible between the hanging green silk was a large round tattoo of a series of interlocking Celtic knots surrounding a regal Pict horse. The Celts’ knot work represented the complexity of life, and the more overlapping the lines, the greater the protection against evil was supposed to be.
If the symbolism was true, Kael should’ve been well served by this beautiful mark.
Every inch of his body was lean golden muscle, much of it decorated by beautiful Celtic artwork. Every rippling of his shoulders and clenching of his defined abdomen radiated leashed power.
Finally, she couldn’t resist looking at that most masculine part of him. Her eyes went wide and heat roared over her face. His shaft was thick and long, and hung heavily from the bronze curls covering his groin. She might have been a little scared if her core didn’t clench in need and anticipation, if just looking at him didn’t make her wet.
But it did. Holy hell, it did.
For long moments, she drank him in. When she noticed the faster rise and fall of his chest, she finally looked back to his face.
He was watching her observe him—his mouth hung open and his Adam’s apple bobbed in a rough swallow. And his fangs, longer now, were completely visible to her for the first time.
It was like she’d never felt want before in her whole life. All she knew was that she needed him. In her. In any way. In every way.
A shiver ran through her, and she shifted her stance, adjusting to the moisture between her legs. She couldn’t stand the distance between them and closed it with a sure step. With one hand against the horse tattoo on his bare chest, she reached up with the other and cupped the back of his head and pulled him down to her. She was stunned to feel a rhythmic beat under her hand and realized how much about him she wanted, needed, to know.
Later…