Rajmund

by D. B. Reynolds

  "Ooooooh,” she cooed. “Is this for me?"

  "Jesus Christ.” Raj lifted her out of the car, propped her up long enough to enter his security code, then threw her over his shoulder and shoved roughly through the door. He waited until he heard the lock snap shut behind him, punched in the second code on the interior panel and carried her downstairs, opening the vault door before setting her down inside.

  Amazingly, she seemed to have run out of steam at last, leaning against him with a small sigh and resting her head against his chest, her arms draped loosely around his waist beneath his jacket. Raj glanced down at her golden blond head against the black of his sweater, her face hidden behind the fall of her hair. “Sarah?” he said softly.

  "Mmmm?"

  "You still with me?"

  She laughed softly and did a little twisting motion with her hips, reminding him he was still hard as a rock against her belly. He put her aside and activated his daytime security system, turning to find her watching him, her smoky hazel eyes smoldering with emotion, their gold flecks bright in the warm glow of his lamps. She dropped her jacket to the floor and for the first time he noticed what she was wearing. Faded denims clung to her legs and hips like a second skin, showing off firm thighs and that wonderful heart-shaped ass. Her breasts were showcased by a strapless top, red satin against her pale skin, tight enough that the full mounds plumped out invitingly. He wanted to close his eyes against the temptation, but couldn't quite convince himself to do so.

  Sarah saw him watching and ran a teasing finger along the top of the red satin, stroking her hand down in a caressing motion until it rested at her waist. She smiled. “At last we meet, Raj."

  "Don't, Sarah,” he said softly.

  "Why not?” she inquired sweetly. “I know you want to. Come on, sweetheart. Let's fuck."

  His anger returned in a rush. He was furious that she'd put herself in that kind of danger, furious that she'd forced him to show his hand before he was ready. “When I fuck you,” he snarled. “It won't be because you're acting like a bitch in heat over the scent of a bunch of mongrel dogs."

  Sarah jerked as if he'd slapped her, her eyes filling with tears, hurt written over every inch of her face. “That was cruel,” she whispered, “even for you."

  It was cruel. Cruel and unfair. He knew it, but he'd be damned if he'd apologize, not after she'd played that stupid trick with the blood house. She knew the other women had been taken from blood houses. She'd seen the kind of security he had in place for her protection at the warehouse, and still she'd gone haring off on her own, just to prove that she could.

  "I want to go home,” she said in a small voice.

  "Too bad.” She looked up at him in dismay. “It's nearly sunrise,” he explained.

  "But,” she looked around, like a trapped animal seeking escape. “Just open the door. I can—"

  "I don't think so,” he said dismissively. “You should shower,” he said, gesturing toward the bathroom. “I've got some clothes you can put on."

  "All right,” she said in that tiny voice, like she wanted to disappear. It infuriated him because he knew he was the one who'd made her feel that way. He felt like an asshole as he watched her walk away, watched her kick off her shoes and slip barefoot into the bathroom through the half-open door, closing it behind her with a hitch in her breath.

  He had already changed by the time she came out. She was wearing the sweatshirt he'd set inside the door, but not the pants. Her legs were bare, but the shirt hung down to her knees like a nightgown. His clothes. She was wearing his clothes. And when she was forced to come closer in order to get to the bed, he could smell his soap on her skin. Em was right. If he wanted her, he needed to do something about it. And if not, he needed to let her go.

  "You can have the bed,” he said gently, trying to make amends. “I'll take the couch."

  "It doesn't matter,” she said, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. “I probably won't sleep."

  "Sure, you will."

  Her look of confusion was the last thing he saw before she fell into his arms. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, “but I can't have you waking up before I do.” He carried her to the bed and tucked her in, brushing a lock of golden hair out of her face. “Sleep well."

  He lay down on the leather couch, exquisitely aware of Sarah sleeping in his bed only a few feet away. He rolled over once or twice, sat up and shifted to the other end, trying to find a comfortable position. He lay back and gave it up as a lost cause. Once the sun took him, it wouldn't matter anyway.

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  Chapter Forty-one

  Raj awoke hungry and horny, with the solution to both of his problems lying right there in his bed, all toasty warm and flushed with health. He rose to his feet slowly, stretching every muscle, hearing his neck crack after the uncomfortable day on the too-short couch. He crossed the room and stood above her in the near perfect dark of his inner sanctum, watching her sleep. He could hear every beat of her heart, could feel the moisture of every breath, the heat of her body warming the cold sheets of his bed. It had been a mistake to bring her here. An even bigger mistake to do so when he'd gone so long without feeding. He'd meant to stop and feed last night, but then the call had come that Sarah was at the blood house and now . . . here she was.

  Memories filled his head—of her dancing with the dark-haired vampire, her body rubbing up against his, his hands all over her. Raj closed his eyes against a fresh swell of rage. When he opened them, she was still there, still sleeping. She was his. Why not take her?

  His fangs lengthened eagerly, emerging from between his lips. He opened his mouth to stretch his jaw. As if aware of the danger lurking over her, Sarah murmured in her sleep and rolled over. Her scent drifted up to him, delicate and sweet, laced with the scent of his soap, his clothing. His cock grew hard and heavy, unrestrained in the loose sweatpants he'd put on only because she was with him. He growled softly, aware of a cool, blue glow in the room, the light from his eyes, burning with the heat of two different hungers.

  His cell phone rang. A welcome distraction. He crossed the room and checked caller ID. It was Emelie. Of course. She was probably worried about him. Or maybe about Sarah.

  Raj didn't answer. Let her think he was in the shower; he would be soon enough. He grabbed up a pair of denims and strode into the bathroom without looking at the bed, closing the door before he could catch another glimpse of the temptation lying there.

  The shower woke Sarah. At least she thought that's what it must have been. There was no other noise in the room, and while the lights were dim, there was enough that she could see. The bathroom door was closed and she sat up, pulling the covers with her. She didn't remember falling asleep, but she remembered everything else. Her entire body flushed with embarrassment at the memory of Raj storming into the crowded room, coming to rescue her from her own stupidity.

  She'd had no idea what the blood house would be like, hadn't even considered there might be such a strong aphrodisiac effect in the air itself. She remembered Raj saying something about it at his club in New York. When she'd had that erotic . . . whatever it had been, right there on the dance floor. But she'd written that off as a reaction to Raj himself. Stupid.

  But it wasn't all her fault. What did he think that she was going to do, sit in that stupid warehouse like a good, little dog, waiting for master to come pet her on the head? If he'd just told her what was going on, or better yet, if he'd agreed to visit the blood houses with her like she'd wanted, none of this would have happened.

  Honesty forced her to admit she'd been careless, though. She'd realized that from the minute she stepped into the house, beginning with the waiver they made her sign, the appraising looks of the vampires at the door. She'd known right away what everyone assumed she wanted. It was the same thing everyone else there wanted. Sex and blood. Not that she would have minded a little sex and blood herself, it was just that she wanted Raj and only him. But he didn't want her. Or he didn't want t
o want her which was the same thing. Especially when the vampire in question was Mister I'm-in-Control Raj.

  The other vampires had seemed to like her well enough. That dark-haired vamp had been all over her. Oh, be honest, Sarah, you were all over him too. That's why she rarely drank. It made people stupid. But she'd had a taste last night of what it must feel like to be drunk, and it hadn't been all bad. For once in her life, she hadn't worried about whether she was too short or her breasts too big. Hadn't worried that the nice guy sitting next to her might be a serial rapist or some other sort of freak who only wanted to follow her home and do horrible things to her. It had felt good, or at least it had felt good until Raj showed up and made her feel like a complete whore. A complete unwanted whore.

  The bathroom door opened, splashing light into the room. She shrank away from the light, growing still as Raj emerged, wearing nothing but pants. They were black denim, hanging low on his hips with the button undone and the zipper halfway open. His chest was bare and still damp and Sarah swallowed a gasp at how beautiful he was. His shoulders were broad and thick with muscle, his chest firm and well-defined, tapering down to a narrow waist and hard, flat belly. His skin glowed golden in the light from the bathroom, and a barely visible down of curly blond hair sprinkled his chest before arrowing straight to the opening of his unbuttoned pants.

  Her gaze traveled up to his face and found his icy, blue eyes staring back at her. They were glowing slightly, as they did when he was angry, and she pulled the covers tighter, glad for their flimsy protection. She felt suddenly like a small animal beneath the gaze of a predator, an unhappy image. She frowned and felt her own anger stiffen her determination. She was not an animal; she was no one's prey, and she, by God, was not a whore either.

  "Raj,” she said coolly. It was an acknowledgment of his presence, nothing more.

  "Sarah.” His voice was low and rumbling, and definitely meant to intimidate. Apparently, he was still pissed at her. Well, too bad.

  Summoning her courage and her frostiest voice, Sarah said, “If you're finished, I'd like to use the bathroom."

  He blinked. And blinked again. He didn't say anything, but took two steps away from the bathroom door, clearing the way, barely, for her to pass.

  Sarah climbed out of the big bed, careful to keep the oversized sweatshirt she was wearing—one of his, obviously—from riding up. She had a moment's doubt when she hurried past him, standing there all big and hunky and glowering down at her. But she kept moving and quickly shut the door between them. Once inside, she leaned back against the closed door and blew out a breath of relief. That hadn't been so difficult. So he was a big, bad vampire. His minions might scurry around doing his bidding, even Emelie kowtowed to his moody self, but Sarah didn't have to. He'd made it clear there was nothing between them, so who was he to tell her where she could and couldn't go? If she wanted to drop in at every blood house in the city and dance the night away, it was her business not his. Hell, maybe she'd tell him so. That would be a shock to him, wouldn't it? A human weakling telling him where he could shove his macho bullshit? He should go back to Manhattan and all those beautiful women. They probably fell all over him, lining up to open their veins and their legs, too.

  By the time she'd finished a quick shower and found an unopened toothbrush to use—and what was that about? Did he bring strange women here all the time that he had to keep a spare toothbrush on hand?— she was ready for the confrontation she knew was coming. He probably expected her to be all apologetic and ashamed. Well, guess again, fang boy.

  She found her jeans still hanging on the back of the door from last night. They were somewhat damp having hung there through two showers, but with a few tugs and some chafed skin she finally managed to get them on and zipped. She was still commando beneath them, of course, but it was better than having nothing on at all. She took one look at the too tight, red satin bustier she'd worn, thought about squeezing into it again, and pulled Raj's sweatshirt over her head instead. It was loose enough that she could go braless for the short trip back to her house. There'd be no one to see her but Raj, and he wasn't interested anyway.

  She took a deep breath, letting the air slide in and out of her lungs to relieve the stress, and then opened the bathroom door.

  Raj was standing on the other side of the room, near the closet, when the bathroom door opened and Sarah stomped out. She immediately began searching for something, ignoring him completely. That surprised him. That and her attitude. He'd expected embarrassment, even shame. He'd thought she might slip into the bedroom quietly, so overcome with guilt that she wouldn't even look at him. He could have dealt with that, had even been prepared to make it easy on her and pretend they could forget the whole humiliating evening. But there she was, marching around, yanking the bedclothes aside, muttering under her breath and bending over in those goddamn tight jeans in a way that was very dangerous. To both of them. He was already hanging by a thread where she was concerned.

  She located her shoes, standing first on one foot then the other to slip them on her feet. She was instantly several inches taller, and her legs looked a mile longer. He nearly groaned.

  She finally looked at him. “I'd like to leave now."

  "I'll take you to the warehouse. Em can arrange—” He stopped and stared at her. She was doing something with her hand, holding it toward him and opening and closing her fingers and thumb like a puppet talking or something. “What the fuck is that?” he demanded.

  "That, oh great vampire, is blah, blah, blah. I need to know where my car is, with my things in it, and then I'm going home. If you don't want to drive me there, you can just open that stupid door and let me out of this dungeon. I'll get a taxi. It may surprise you to learn that I've managed on my own for several years with—"

  She stopped mid-word, finally shocked into silence by his abrupt presence only inches away from her, her human senses having failed to see him move.

  "Tread lightly, little one,” he warned. “You don't want to push me. Not tonight."

  Her eyes darkened with anger, narrowing as she met his gaze evenly despite her surprise. “Really? And why is that, Raj? I'm tired of you thinking you have the right to control me. You're not my boyfriend and you're sure as hell not my keeper, so from where I stand, you've got no claim on me whatsoever. Like the song says, you don't want me for yourself so let me find somebody else. It's shit or get off the pot time, Raj. It's now or never. Time to—"

  She gave a startled shriek as Raj swung an arm around her waist and lifted her off her feet. He threaded the fingers of one hand through her hair and pulled it aside, freeing the long line of her neck. “Then I choose now,” he growled.

  Sarah cried out as Raj sank his fangs into the velvet skin of her neck and punctured the fragile wall of her plump jugular. Her cries turned to moans of pleasure and the blood began to flow, warm and sweet, just as he'd known it would be. She wound her arms around him, cradling his head, holding his mouth against her vein. The first orgasm shuddered through her body and she whispered his name over and over, until she was limp in his arms.

  He lifted his head away from her neck and licked the wound closed, savoring the bouquet of her blood, the taste of her skin. She nuzzled against him with a contented sigh and he lifted her higher, cupping her ass in both hands and walking toward the bed.

  "Don't get too comfortable, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I'm nowhere near done with you yet.” He lay her down on the bed and stripped away the sweatshirt he'd given her, relishing the sight of every inch of skin as it was revealed to him. He groaned at the sight of her breasts, full and heavy, with nipples and areolas so light a pink that he could barely tell where they ended and her pale skin began. Unable to resist, he lowered his head to taste them, sampling each hard, round nipple, feeling it swell in his mouth like a juicy, ripe fruit. Tracing the outlines of her breasts with his tongue, he moved down her body, unzipping the tight jeans, rolling them off her hips and over her flat stomach.

  She arched
against his hands as he slid the jeans further down her legs, as the cleft of her sex came into view, smooth and velvety but for a small patch of soft blond curls at the top of her mound. He tugged the pants over her feet and tossed them away, then stood and stripped off his own denims.

  "Spread your legs for me, Sarah,” he crooned, lowering himself to the bed, sliding his thighs beneath hers. Sarah bit her lip, but spread her thighs enough that her legs straddled his, giving him a bare glimpse of her tender folds. He laughed low in his throat, almost growling as he placed his hands on her knees, running his fingers down the inside of her thighs. “Wider, little one."

  She gasped, her entire body blushing with embarrassment as he spread her wide open to his gaze. “Such a pretty pussy.” He wet one finger in his mouth, reached out and let it glide through her slit, opening her even further to his inspection. “And so wet for me.” He breathed in the sweet scent of her arousal and hummed with pleasure.

  "Raj!” she protested, but her body gave her away, her back arched with pleasure, nipples plump and begging for attention. His finger traveled up to the hard button of her clit and lingered, watching her shiver with desire as he circled it over and over again. “Raj,” she repeated, but in a whisper this time, full of longing.

  Wanting, needing to taste all of her, he buried his face between her legs, his tongue replacing his fingers, her juices flowing, her clit pulsing as he brought her to orgasm after orgasm until she screamed his name, fingers clenched in his hair, jerking spasmodically as if not knowing whether to force him closer or tug him away. His tongue continued to explore her, tasting each new secret valley, while his long, thick fingers teased her from the inside, fucking her, tormenting her, promises of what was to come. She trembled beneath his assault, soaked with the juices of her latest climax, her voice hoarse from crying his name more times than he could count. She moaned suddenly, her head thrashing from side to side. “Raj. Please."

  He circled her clit with his tongue once more before raising his head enough to ask, “Please, what, little one?"