“Christian,” she whispered, her voice hitching with emotion.
“Natalie,” he murmured back, and blew softly over her swollen clit.
Her hips flexed, and she moaned. “Oh, God.”
Using his thumbs to bare her pussy completely, he drew her clit into his mouth, gripping her ass with both hands when she bucked so hard that he nearly lost his grip. She was crying out continuously now, little pleading noises in time with the thrust of her hips. Freeing one hand from her ass, he slid two fingers into her pussy, driving them in and out as he sucked her clit until it was a ripe fruit begging to be bitten.
He bit down, piercing the exquisitely aroused nub with one fang, snarling at the sweet blood that coated his tongue, as Natalie went wild, writhing beneath him, her fingers digging into the cover of the bed, her thighs closing around his head so hard that his ears rang. Rasping his tongue over her clit one last time, he lifted himself over her body, then reached between them and positioned his cock at her entrance. He hissed with pleasure when he finally plunged deep into her welcoming heat. The walls of her sheath gripped him hard, trembling around his cock, becoming a sensuous ripple when he started to move, her body caressing him, urging him to climax with her. He kept thrusting, unwilling to end this yet. With a demanding growl of his own, he twisted her hair around his fist, holding her in place as he kissed her, only to be reminded once again that Natalie was no delicate, passive thing. She met his mouth with a demand of her own, crushing her lips against his until both their mouths were bleeding, their teeth clashing, tongues twisting.
With a final hard kiss, he abandoned her mouth for her neck. He wanted blood. The tiny taste he’d gotten from her clit, and now her lips, had only whetted his hunger. His balls grew heavy between his legs, drawing tighter as his orgasm roared close. He lowered his mouth to her neck, right over the mark he’d left earlier and drew hard on the vein until it was plump and begging. And then, he sank his fangs into her flesh.
NATALIE SUCKED IN a shocked breath, whispering Christian’s name on a choked sob, as the climax soared through her. She was helpless against it, as if her body was no longer hers to control, just this throbbing, thrashing thing that knew only pleasure. Christian’s mouth was still at her neck, her body so exquisitely sensitive that she’d have sworn she could feel the irresistible draw of his mouth as he fed on the hot flow of her blood. Every place his mouth had touched blazed with fresh desire, as if his lips were everywhere, kissing her all over again and all at once. She dug her fingers into the thick muscle of his shoulders, desperate for something to hang on to, something to anchor her to earth.
A spear of resentment stabbed through her that he could remain so in control, while she could only hold on and hope to survive. But then he lifted his head with a groan, and his hips began thrusting so fast that she could barely distinguish in from out, so fast that her pussy seemed to burn with it. And then he climaxed, and joined her in surrendering to sensation. His eyes were closed, his jaw clenched, his cock flexing inside her as his release shot deep into her body, leaving him helpless to resist. He moaned, almost as if pain, and she stroked a soothing hand down his back, until finally he collapsed on top of her, his breath hot on her damp skin, his face buried against her neck.
They lay together for a silent moment. Panting, sweaty. Natalie was stunned at the sheer power of their lovemaking. She’d never known it could be like this. Christian lifted his head abruptly, hissed a soft curse, and then quickly licked away the warm trickle of blood from her neck, and sealed her wound. She’d been aware of the blood, but hadn’t had the strength to say anything. She wasn’t sure her tongue was working yet.
Christian turned his gaze to her, and she noticed his eyes were gleaming blue with power in the darkness. She’d never realized before—she hadn’t had the opportunity to know—that vampires’ eyes glowed with strong emotion, not just when they were using their power.
He smiled down at her, so handsome. She reached up to brush away that one lock of hair from his forehead.
“You taste so very sweet, chére,” he purred.
She blushed automatically, but managed an answering grin. “It’s the blood,” she quipped, and then cursed herself for feeding him the straight line, when his smiled widened.
“And everything else, too,” he said wickedly. “Your pussy is every bit as sweet as your vein. Your clit even better.”
Natalie nearly groaned with embarrassment, but her body didn’t. Her body loved the idea that he found her pussy sweet. She would have sworn that she had nothing left to give, that she was climaxed out, but at the look in his eye, and the dirty words from his mouth, she felt a gush of warmth between her thighs, and her pussy pulsed with fresh hunger.
Christian chuckled, low and masculine and she suddenly realized his cock was still buried inside her. He’d felt her body’s reaction. She turned her head away from him, wanting to cover her face in shame, but he wouldn’t let her. His strong fingers turned her back to look at him.
“I love the way your body reacts to me,” he said solemnly. “I love that you’re so exquisitely sensitive to every touch, and yet so demanding in what you want. Your body was meant to be worshipped, mon ange. And I thank the gods that I’m the one who gets to do it.”
She felt tears stinging the back of her eyes, and blinked them away. He wouldn’t find her so great if she devolved into a sobbing mess.
“Me, too,” she whispered. “I mean . . . your body. I like it, too.” She groaned inwardly. Smooth, Nat. Real smooth.
But he only grinned and dropped a quick kiss on her lips. She winced in anticipation, remembering the blood they’d both shed, tearing their mouths in their hunger to get to each other. But there was nothing. She ran her tongue over her lips, and found a slight tenderness, but not the shredded flesh she’d expected.
His eyes followed her tongue. “It’s the blood we shared,” he told her, and she frowned in confusion. “When you kissed me so hard that you shredded our lips,” he explained.
She gasped in outrage. “I recall you kissing me first, big guy.”
“Naturally,” he agreed. “You”—he kissed her slowly, sensuously—“are extremely kissable.”
“What about the blood?” she asked, still confused.
“When my blood mixed with yours, it healed your lip, or at least enough that it’s no longer bleeding.”
Natalie blinked in surprise. She knew vampires healed quickly, but had no idea that their blood could heal others, too. She was still absorbing this piece of information when he said, “You should sleep now. You must be tired.”
She was tired. But it was a sated sort of exhaustion, the kind that made her want to stretch with contentment. It was also the sort that made her want to curl up next to Christian, and sleep it off together. And then she wanted to wake up in his arms, and do it all over again. But that wasn’t going to happen. She wondered when he’d trust her enough to sleep with her. It made her a little sad that he still didn’t.
She felt her eyes closing in spite of her thoughts, felt the soft brush of his lips on her forehead, and then he was pulling the covers back and lifting her beneath them.
The last thing she remembered was the sound of his deep voice. “Sleep, mon amour.”
CHRISTIAN WAITED until he was sure Natalie was deep in her dreams, then climbed out of the bed, and headed for the basement and his secure sleeping vault. He hated leaving her, hated knowing that she would wake up alone, as would he. But he wasn’t sure she was ready for the reality of a vampire lover, or that he was ready to drag her into the hazards of his life. She was already in danger because of him, and it would only get worse once he became Lord of the South.
ANTHONY STARED out the window at the Houston skyline, seething with so much anger that his fangs were pressed against his lips and blood dripped from his palms where his nails had pierced the skin. Fucking Chr
istian Duvall. Why couldn’t he have stayed where he belonged? Or better yet, why hadn’t Hubert killed him the moment he made it clear that he was no longer playing the European’s game? That had been the moment of Duvall’s greatest vulnerability, the perfect moment to strike. But had Hubert recognized it? Had he seized that moment and rid them all of the danger that was Christian Duvall? No, that idiot European had been too busy turning peasants into mindless soldiers. If you could call those things soldiers. They had not an ounce of independent will, and were a bit too fervent in their worship of Hubert, even for his taste.
It was too late for that now. No point in moaning over the past. The fact was that Duvall was still alive and ruining all of Anthony’s carefully laid plans. Because of Duvall, he was forced to hide away in this condo, while waiting on Hubert to make his move. But far more egregious was the way that French bastard had moved in and stolen Natalie right from under his thumb. He’d had her there for nearly two years, while he plotted and planned for their future together. And maybe he’d been foolish not to have made his move sooner. She was, after all, a young woman. And like all women, she wanted a man to love and protect her, to provide a home that she could turn into a gracious reflection of their lives. And he’d planned to give that to her, he still would. But he hadn’t wanted to begin their lives together under Raphael’s thumb. She was to be part of his new life, a life where he was in full command of his destiny, of their destiny together.
He knew for a fact that she hadn’t taken a lover the whole time she’d been in Houston. And she’d never fallen for the easy seduction of his vampires, despite her many opportunities. She’d been waiting for him, but perhaps he’d made her wait too long.
He slammed a hand down onto the thick arm of his chair. He couldn’t believe she’d fallen for Duvall, of all people. He was a player, anyone could see that. It was all a game to him, one woman after the next. And now his Natalie had become the fucker’s next target. Assuming he hadn’t already bedded her. But Anthony couldn’t believe that. He knew his woman. She was meant for him. She would see that, once he got her away from Duvall. But he’d have to move fast, before it was too late.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t be the one to rescue her, because Raphael was making a big fucking deal about Jaclyn’s bodyguard. Or lover, or whatever he was to her. Who cared? He’d needed a few moments alone with Natalie, and the vamp was in the way. So he’d blanked a bit of the vamp’s memories. It wasn’t anything the great Raphael hadn’t done a thousand times. If Natalie hadn’t noticed the change and innocently pointed it out, no one would have been wiser. In retrospect, he should have told Natalie what he’d done, and asked her not to mention it. But again, that was the past.
If he was going to get what he deserved, what he’d been working toward since he’d taken over the South, he needed to look forward, to the next move in his plan.
He’d already spoken to his allies, and Duvall would soon be nothing but a memory. But first, he had to get his Natalie to safety. He couldn’t risk something happening to her by accident, just because she’d been taken in by that Frenchman. Which brought him full circle. He had to get her away from Duvall, and for that, he’d require help.
The doorbell rang, sounding loud in the nearly empty condominium. No one but his closest children knew about this place, and he’d taken only a handful of those with him when he’d decided a tactical retreat from the estate was necessary. He wasn’t in hiding, though he knew some would call it that. But that was because they didn’t know his strategy, they didn’t have his vision. He wasn’t hiding, he was avoiding unnecessary risk, while biding his time.
One of his guards stepped into the doorway behind him. “Marcel Weiss, my lord,” he said.
Anthony didn’t look back, but simply raised a hand, indicating the guard should let Weiss in.
A moment later, Weiss’s cynical voice said, “Rather a cliché’, isn’t it, old man? Lurking in the dark and staring through the big picture window? All you need is rain and a bat signal, and you’re set.”
Anthony’s lip curled. He didn’t like Weiss. Under other circumstances, he’d have happily killed him, just for being an asshole. For the time being, however, their goals dovetailed neatly. Weiss wanted to rule the South—which meant getting rid of Duvall. And Anthony wanted Natalie back.
“No priceless scotch to share?” Weiss persisted, as he plopped himself into the chair next to Anthony’s.
“You got my message,” Anthony said, not bothering to reply to the foolish comments.
“Obviously. I’m here. The question remains, however, why am I here? Your message was rather short on specifics.”
“We share an enemy.”
He caught the curious tilt of Weiss’s head in his peripheral vision.
“Duvall,” Weiss said. He might be an asshole, but he was a smart asshole.
“Duvall,” Anthony confirmed. “I can’t do any hunting right now, for obvious reasons.”
“Is Raphael still in town? I thought he’d left already.”
“He did leave, but Jaclyn is still around, and Raphael left additional guards with her. Not to mention Duvall, who, I understand, has been given permission by Raphael to kill me himself.” He snorted dismissively. “Duvall has an inflated opinion of himself. I still rule the South. He’s only one, while I am many.”
“And yet, you’re giving it all up,” Weiss reminded him. “Before we talk any kind of joint venture, I’d like to know why.”
“My reasons are my own. Suffice it to say I miss New Orleans. I only came here because of Katrina and the destruction it caused. The properties I lost were worth millions. But that wasn’t what drove me away. It was the voices of my children who died in their sleep, drowning, while I could do nothing to help them.” Anthony shook himself out of the memory. He hadn’t meant to reveal so much. “I want to go home now. But I want it on my terms. Whatever vampire rules the South behind me can make that possible. And I can make you that vampire.”
“Why me?”
“Why not? You obviously hate Duvall, and I think we both know he’s your strongest opponent. I had hoped one of my own would succeed, but Noriega failed, and Scoville has turned coward and bowed out. That leaves you or Barranza, and he seems to have disappeared. No one will even admit to knowing his whereabouts, unless you . . .”
Weiss laughed. “I didn’t off the Mexican. So, I’m your only option, is that it?”
Anthony pretended to think about it. “I guess you’re right,” he said, as if it had never occurred to him.
“So what’s the plan?”
“Duvall has my woman. I want her back. I have people in place to tell me if he goes out tomorrow night, and where he’ll be. I’ll pass that intel on to you, and you grab my Natalie. Gently. I don’t want her injured.”
Weiss scowled. “The woman’s easy. But what about Duvall? Why can’t I just kill him, and take her at the same time?”
“You believe you can defeat him?”
“With the right tools, yeah. I’ll need guns.”
“This is Texas,” Anthony said dismissively. “That’s not a problem.”
“It is when you don’t have an ID.”
“Also not a problem. Leave a list with my guard, and one of my staff will handle it. Tell him where you want them delivered, and when.” Anthony sent a telepathic message to his guard. The vampire appeared a moment later, and lingered in the doorway waiting.
Weiss laughed and stood up. “That’s it, huh? Still no scotch, I guess. I’ll expect a call from you tomorrow, old man. And I want those weapons. I’m not going up against him unprepared.”
“You’ll have what you need. But, remember, Weiss. Natalie Gaudet is your target, your only target. Duvall is a bonus, but only once my woman is secure.”
Weiss grunted his agreement, then followed the guard from the room.
Anthony listened to Weiss’s departing footsteps, nearly lost beneath the heavy tread of his guard’s boots. And then he resumed his contemplation of the Houston skyline. He hadn’t planned on Weiss killing Duvall, had thought the vamp would be too cowardly to go against him. He didn’t need him to kill Duvall. There were plans in place that would cover that quite nicely. But if Weiss wanted to try, Anthony was more than happy to give him that chance. As long as he got Natalie to safety first.
He exhaled on a long breath, feeling hopeful for the first time since Raphael had painted a target on his back. By this time tomorrow, Natalie would be his again, and if he was very lucky, Duvall would be dead.
Chapter Nine
NATALIE WOKE ALONE . . . again, which bothered her more than it should have. It wasn’t as if she and Christian were going to do morning cuddles, or sex before breakfast, or even lunch. What troubled her was the subject Christian had raised the first night she’d spent in his house . . . trust. It was obvious to her that he didn’t trust her to be around him during the day when he was at his most vulnerable. Actually, daylight might be the only time a vampire as powerful as Christian was truly vulnerable.
She told herself she should be glad that she didn’t have to deal with seeing whatever state a vampire entered into when the sun was in the sky. Was it like human sleep? Did he breathe? Did his heart beat? She frowned. Well, of course those things must happen. He’d been human once, which meant he still had the same circulatory system, still needed oxygen and especially blood. So how was a vampire’s sleep different?
An unwanted thought intruded, suggesting that Christian’s decision to sleep alone might not be a matter of trust at all. Maybe he was uncertain how she’d react, and was sparing her delicate sensibilities. If that was it, then he needed a dose of reality. Admittedly, she hadn’t lived a hard life, but that didn’t mean she needed to be coddled. One of the main reasons she’d accepted the move to Houston was because it broke her out of the protective cocoon her father and brothers had woven around her.
Christian (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 10) Page 21