by Karen Payton
His hand cupped her skull, holding her still, and he stared into her eyes as his desperate need of her undulated through his hips. A snarl trembled at his lip.
“Bite me,” she breathed softly. She wanted him to feel her pleasure. I want him to stay. Anticipation trapped a breath inside her as the words struck a chord of almost unbearable desire through her, too.
The shudder running through him bunched his muscles from shoulders to thighs. His silver irises burned away to smoldering black coal as he froze.
“Bite me, Connor.”
Her words released him. He buried his face in her neck, and with a knife sharp pinch, he pierced her. Biting down hard, he pulled her flesh into his mouth. His lips dragged over her skin as he buried his teeth a little deeper, clamped down and sank in to drink. Every muscle in her body hummed with each contraction of his jaws, his venom flowing like a citrus cream cocktail through her sluggish bloodstream. Tremors shook her and, as her blood filled his mouth and dulled the razor-edge of his desire, sparks exploded inside her head.
He clutched her tightly to him, satisfaction vibrating inside his throat. As the glittering shower inside her head subsided, and her muscles finally relaxed, the afterglow of her climax singing through them, every fiber in his body suddenly jolted, locking tight. He groaned, agony shredding the sound in his throat.
“Sorry, baby, I’m sorry.” Alarm and regret sharpened his gaze when his eyes met hers.
Rebekah grabbed a handful of his mussed hair, making him look at her. As a tide of warmth flowed like lava inside her, she knew. He had tried to hold back, to move away, but, it was too late, and he had poured himself into her.
“I’m sorry.” His breathing sawed in and out of flared nostrils. His body tensed again, in frustration this time.
Rebekah held him close, her hands stroking his hair until he relaxed. “It’s okay.” Her voice rang with quiet conviction. “Truly.”
After another moment of stillness, a sigh moved through him as he nuzzled her neck, licking in firm strokes over her throat, coagulating the wound he had torn. He finally kissed her soft, open mouth again, stealing her panting breaths and running his hands over her still trembling body. “Still, I shouldn’t have-”
Her fingertips were not so much placed on his lips, as slapped in place like a duct tape gag. Rebekah’s stern look said enough, and Connor’s lips twitched. Amusement lurked in the depths of his gaze as he allowed Rebekah to overpower him and push him back on the bed. She smiled when he kept her close into his side, not wanting to lose contact. She felt it too, the pull, as though their bodies were polarized with a magnetic attraction, two halves of a whole. Happiness, that’s the word. Gazing at the curved ceiling of her cave, the glow of a lamp casting them both in a soothing light, Rebekah finally felt at home.
A long time later, with their bodies still entwined, he stirred, looking into her still-flushed cheeks. “I can’t regret loving you at last, being with you, as I have always wanted.”
“I know.”
“I thought I’d lost you.” His voice stayed low as he poured out his desperation.
Suddenly serious, she said quietly, “What was that, out in the woods?”
His sharp gaze scoured her face. “You saw him? I hoped you hadn’t.” He drifted his fingers down over her naked back. “He’s gone now. It was one of the feral vampires I told you about. We flush them out and kill them if we see them. They’re few and far between.”
“But, he’s gone?”
He frowned and nodded. “I found you, and that’s the main thing. You’re safe now.” Relief whitened his skin to bone-white as his embrace tightened.
“Ouch,” she smiled.
He softened his hold and laughed wryly. “Harry and Oscar thought I was demented, and for a while there, I was. I looked crazy, I think, bearing down on them, racing through the tunnels with you and Thomas in my arms.” His face was grim. “Harry’s face was whiter than mine when I barked at him to fill a bath with boiling water. I think he thought I was about to boil you alive, not me.”
“What?” Rebekah’s eyes widened. “Boiling water?”
“I warm my hands in hot water before surgery on humans.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “I was desperate. I figured it would work for the rest of me. My tissue is denser than yours. Think of me as a man-sized storage heater. Granite warmed by the sun releases heat for hours after dusk,” he explained. A rueful laugh erupted as he said, “It was worth the risk. I think I shocked a few people with my naked butt, but I couldn’t care less about that.”
The thought of Connor walking naked, the toned muscles of his taut buttocks and rock hard thighs, made Rebekah grin like an idiot.
Connor looked down at her and grinned back. Dropping a kiss onto her smiling lips, he said, “I got you back, and that’s all that matters. And yes, Thomas made it too.” He grinned again. “By more orthodox methods, you saved him, honey.” His voice faded to a whisper as he placed his palm over her heart. “I thought I might never feel this again. I waited eighteen hours. Listened to every moth-wing flutter, because that’s all it was.” His eyes darkened. “I died every time a beat was missed, and when the deep breaths of natural sleep finally settled in, I prayed.”
“If you thought you’d lost me, why didn’t you turn me?” she asked seriously.
“I was too late. You were too cold, your heart had begun to shut down, and you were deeply unconscious, so feeding from me would have been beyond you.” He met her gaze, looking for horror at the thought of drinking his blood.
Rebekah knew what he was thinking. She pressed a kiss to his chest and nipped the tightened flat disc of his nipple with her teeth. “When should I start practicing?” she teased.
His hissed sigh of relief turned into a chuckle. “I’m so glad I got you back. You do me so much good.” Dipping his head to kiss her, Rebekah savored his taste as citrus-syrup saliva flooded his mouth, before he resolutely swallowed it down. “Go to sleep,” he whispered. Rubbing his chin over her hair, he tucked her into his side and trapped her hands in one of his. “Sleep, honey.”
Chapter 35
The atmosphere inside Julian’s house had become thick with fear and doubt. Leizle still sat upon the large couch. Ambient light picked out copper-bright threads in her chestnut hair and enhanced a complexion so pale she might easily be mistaken for a vampire.
Across the room, standing at the empty hearth, Julian was the epitome of an impressive English gentleman, with a world of uncertainty written upon his face. A Goliath to her David.
For a long time, after Connor left the house, Leizle’s shallow breathing was the only sound breaking the silence. Her fingers remained knotted in her lap and she darted glances at Julian. The stillness in his face offered no comfort.
Julian’s nostrils flared as he appreciated the fragrance of the adrenalin pumping around her body. The nervous tremor humming through her frame resonated through him like the thundering approach of a stampeding herd.
An enlightened smile softened Julian’s features. In addition to the trembling, he could read every expression that touched her face, no matter how fleeting. He could see easily into her mind. He wanted to move closer and reassure her, but the certainty she would scrabble away like a scared cat kept him at bay.
As she glanced at the bandaged arm she was nursing, he could almost taste her thoughts, and finally, her words tumbled out. “I’m going into shock. Blood loss, he cut me.”
Julian tried for levity. “Do you think we’re a tag team? Connor delivers you to me like meals on wheels, well, a carry out- Oh, heck.”
He shut up when he caught Leizle’s startled glance. She shrank away. He could even smell the burning chestnut aroma of her clamoring dread.
“I was joking.” He held up his hands as if she had a pistol aimed at his chest. Stupid. Julian looked at her and had no idea what to do.
He had never been at a loss in all his two hundred immortal years.
When chasing down the murderous bastard who killed his Eva, he
invited his own death, and even then, he had been certain. Kill or be killed. Of course, that didn’t work out so well for me. But, he made sense of immortality and used it to make him stronger, and to give his life, or rather his death, meaning. I’ve always had a plan, until now.
And now, as Leizle recoiled, he looked into her fear-frozen face, and impotence filled his cold heart. How do I placate a girl who’s been captured and terrified at the human farm? And, judging by the scent of blood and the bandage, has probably seen vampires at their most terrifying? Tough call.
Okay, rewind to the beginning. “Do you remember me?’ he asked gently, still holding his hands palms up. She is certainly carved into my memory. Since that night in the woods, his first sighting of her grubby face remained easy to recall. “I am Julian. Principal Julian.”
“Yes.” She swallowed loudly, and the noise flooded Julian’s mouth with venom. Dammit.
“I won’t hurt you, I have control,” he murmured, talking to them both and issuing a stern reminder to himself.
Alarm flashed in her green eyes, and Julian knew he was right. She’s seen a vampire in blood rage. At a basic level, we’re feeding, killing machines. Strip away the social veneer and we really are just bloodsuckers.
“I’m sorry if you got scared, but I won’t, can’t hurt you. Doctor Connor would kick my butt.”
Julian feigned amusement, and was encouraged when her crouched posture unfolded a little, although her knees were still jiggling as though the carpet repelled her heels.
At Connor’s name, a spark of hope lit her gaze, and envy stirred in Julian’s gut. Easy, she’s just grateful.
“You look very pale. Are you okay?” When he had finished beating himself up and tuned back in to Leizle, he began to think she could be right. Her body heat was clustered in her core and her limbs were registering as cool to him now. Maybe she is going into shock. Concern anchored his green gaze on hers, and he suffered a world of pain as he fought the urge to cross the room and put an arm around her, comfort her, and maybe nibble, just a little.
The awkwardness stretched, while Leizle stared at him.
Going for reassurance, Julian fixed a half-smile on his face. He bore her scrutiny, and even though her gaze dragged discomfort over his skin, he projected tranquility.
Suddenly, his chin jerked up and his expression froze. “Someone is approaching the house. You’ll have to hide.”
“What? Who?”
Leizle did not see him move. She jumped when she was buffeted sideways. Her breath whooshed from her lungs as her feet left the floor and the chill of rushing air made her gasp.
Julian registered the burning heat of her body in his arms at the same time as he set her down once more in a different room. He still held her wrist in a cold grasp in case she stumbled.
Frowning, he said, “Don’t move.”
The words echoed in the air, but he was already gone.
Don’t move. Leizle decided to take the warning literally, although sinking to her knees was unavoidable as her shaking legs made standing impossible.
She folded onto the floor, crushed by fear of the unknown. Don’t move, but for how long? The rollercoaster ride of the past twenty-four hours seemed unrelenting as she relived her last moments of freedom out in the crop field. Being handed over to the reeking vampire with yellowed wrinkled skin stained her soul with terror, but the nightmare had ended here, with Julian.
When Doctor Connor ran his chilled hands over her body, embarrassment had been her overriding reaction. What would Julian’s touch be like? Her heart raced, and fear had nothing to do with the tide of blood rushing up her neck and flushing her cheeks.
She was not yet safe, but in safe hands. Her fingers closed over the wrist Julian had touched and a warm feeling rippled up her arm. Naming it was difficult, but enjoying it was easy.
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The rustle of leaves and whisking of gravel outside the house gave Julian the warning he needed to prepare. Although, unceremoniously dumping Leizle in a room at the back of the house was not part of the plan. Annoyance glittered in his eyes for a moment. She’ll be back to being scared, and I’m back to square one. Still-
His concentration returned to what was about to unfold; he entered his study and left the door open, allowing him a view of the hallway which led to the front door.
Julian’s speciality as principal was intimidation, and he settled behind an imposing walnut Victorian desk in a glossy finish. Julian enjoyed beautiful things. Staring ahead, he traced an idle finger along the intricately tooled edge of the soft leather-coated writing surface. The five foot square area was clear of clutter. Tidy mind and all that. Julian grinned.
The neat stack of papers sitting upon the desk did need not to be there. He already had the information filed and collated inside his head. However, suggesting weakness is useful. Inviting underestimation was a weapon.
“Come.” The word exploded from inside Julian as the intruding vampire’s footfall reached the top step outside the front door. The visual and the odor arrived in concert, and Julian’s eyes narrowed when his visitor entered the room. “Councilor Serge, to what do I owe this pleasure?” he said, with icy sarcasm.
“Principal Julian.” Serge’s head bobbed. His gray, lank hair slapped onto his forehead, only to be scraped back by bony fingers. “I beg your indulgence. I have an urgent matter to bring to your attention.”
Julian’s bored expression took in his uninvited guest. “This is very irregular, Councilor. The jurors do not take kindly to private audiences, but you are here now-”
Examining his fingernails with nonchalance he did not feel, Julian took some satisfaction in hearing Serge’s constricted gulp.
A thread of Julian’s concentration detoured briefly to Leizle. He hoped she had heeded his warning. The human concept of quiet was on par with an elephant tap-dancing, to vampire ears, but he could hear nothing, yet. So far, so good.
With a frown, he studied Serge’s pallid complexion. While his knee-jerk reaction was to tell him to go through the proper channels, he suspected the information in Serge’s hands may mean the difference between life and death for Connor.
“I thought I should deliver the news in private.” Serge oozed regretful concern. “Your colleague, Doctor Connor, has abducted my breeding program specimen.”
“It is my understanding that Doctor Connor is performing her physical examination at the farm this evening, but go on.”
“Indeed.” Serge’s eyebrows climbed in overblown surprise. “But it appears that there was a commotion, and Doctor Connor left. And he took the girl without permission, abducted her.”
“I’m sure there will be an explanation,” said Julian.
“Perhaps.”
Julian sat back and waited, refusing to open any doors.
“And if there is no reasonable explanation? You must consider what action the council should take. Surely, Doctor Connor is threatening the food supply?”
So, that’s it, he’s seeking the death penalty for Connor, yet again. Meeting Serge’s stare, Julian found the satisfaction he expected, but an undercurrent slithering in the depths of his yellow eyes caused Julian a prickle of unease.
Serge added meekly, “It may be a mistake, of course, but Supervisor Matthew assured me that he did not approve Doctor Connor’s actions.”
“Supervisor Matthew and Doctor Connor rarely see eye to eye. Perhaps he is overstating events.”
“Perhaps,” Serge agreed.
“I shall discuss your concerns with Jurors Alexander and Marius. If there is a case to answer, Doctor Connor will, of course, be called to account.” Julian waited for Serge to come back at him. Demand the when, and how. But, nothing.
Serge dipped his chin. “I would be very grateful. She is my head of cattle, after all.”
“Ah, come now, Councilor.” Julian slipped the smooth glove of amusement over his rock hard features. “Once you brought the girl into court, she became community property.” Julian’s sm
ile persisted, but his eyes glittered with green ice. “You know that.”
“Of course, council protocol. Of course.” Serge muttered. Wringing his hands and bobbing his head, he backed towards the doorway. “I look forward to the council’s decision,” he said, and, in a whisk of movement, he departed.
Julian stared at the space left by Serge, tapping his foot in a staccato of unrest. He accepted my half promises and fake gratitude too easily. Julian paced the room. He barely put up a fight. There’s more to this.
Julian shoved his arms into his jacket as he strode out through the front door. Skimming across the gravel and ramping up to cruising speed, he scanned for Serge. Hyde Park whipped by in a blur as he headed to the council building. “Loose lips,” he muttered grimly. Someone will let something slip.
Suddenly, he groaned. Digging his heels into the sidewalk, the leather soles of his shoes creaked in protest and he stopped dead. His breath hissed between his teeth. “Leizle.”
Within seconds, he was back inside his house stalking along the hallway and muttering under his breath, “I’ll check on her, tell her to stay quiet, and I’ll return as soon as I can.”
He appeared in the room as slowly as his impatience would allow. He told himself it was because he owed it to Connor. So why, then, looking down upon her folded frame, did he have difficulty not touching her sleeping face?
Returning to his study, in bold flowing script Julian wrote, ‘Make no noise. I will be back as soon as I can’.
“Damn, Connor,” he murmured, as he folded the notepaper and slipped it under the hand laying palm down on the carpet where she lay on her side with her knees curled up. The silvered strands of moonlight straying across the carpet picked out the black crescents of her closed lashes and played shadows over her pale face. Asleep, she looked very young and vulnerable. Julian risked using a fingertip to move a tress of copper-colored silk from her cheek before he laid a blanket over her because he couldn’t trust himself to move her.
He left the house. Erasing the confusion from his mind, he closed in on the council buildings once more. Serge won’t still be there, but he enjoys gloating.