Lord of the Vampires and The Darkest Angel and The Amazon's Curse and The Darkest Prison

by Gena Showalter

  He would not fall on her. He would not.

  He had known she would delight him in this way, but he had not expected this.

  “I could return home at any second,” she said, unaware of the change in him. “I mean, you’re free now and isn’t that the reason you summoned me? So it stands to reason that the magic that brought me here will soon begin to fade, whether you want it to or not.”

  “No,” he practically roared, his hunger forgotten in the face of his sudden terror of losing her.

  Her eyes widened. “No?”

  “I will not allow it.” Not now, not ever.

  Ever? Yes, he would keep her forever. Would never let her go.

  “Just like that?” She snapped her fingers. “You won’t allow it, so it won’t happen?”

  Sweat beaded on his brow as he sat back on his thighs. “I am not safe yet. Therefore, you have not fulfilled all of your duties.” He would remain in perpetual danger, if need be. He’d lost so many loved ones already. He could not bear…the pain. The damned pain, wiping his thoughts. “That subject is now closed.”

  “Fine,” she grumbled. “Are you always this grouchy in the semimorning?”

  Only when you talk of leaving me. “Would a grouchy vampire tell you that you are the most beautiful female he’s ever met?” he asked, determined to soothe them both.

  A luscious softening of her eyes, her mouth. “No.”

  “Then I am not grouchy. Now close your eyes and relax.” If that ocher gaze met his, he would forget his purpose, lean down, kiss the breath right out of her, then work his way to her vein. And if his teeth sank inside her, his cock would expect equal measure. “I’m going to ease your hurts.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE MOST BEAUTIFUL FEMALE he’d ever seen? He must be seeing Odette, then, Jane thought. Thin might be in, at least where she was from, but there was such a thing as too thin and Jane was it. After the accident, she’d been bed bound and tube fed. When she’d finally woken up, able to feed herself, she’d learned of her family’s demise and hadn’t had an appetite.

  Now that her appetite had reasserted itself, she’d been forced to exist on only fruits and nuts.

  Fruits…nuts…hmm… In that moment, she realized she was starving. For a juicy steak and a side of fries—on top of another steak. The food could wait, though. She was also starving for a man’s touch. A touch Nicolai gave her. Liberally. His strong fingers massaged her calves, deep and hard, hitting her just right. Moaning, she sagged against the moss beneath her.

  “Too much?” he asked in a gravelly voice.

  “Perfect,” she managed to gasp out. She kept her eyes closed, as he’d demanded. Not because of his order, but because his fangs were still out. There was a slight slur to his words.

  Those fangs scared her as much as they aroused her. She’d seen the harm they could do, ripping through flesh and bone, but also wondered about the pleasure they could bring. Every time she wondered, she shivered.

  Hell, even now she shivered. If he was hungry, she was going to feed him, she decided. After this massage, she would owe him a kidney, anyway. Because, oh, sweet mercy, nothing had ever felt this good. Not even grinding on top of him—in her fantasy and in reality—and that had felt like heaven.

  Okay, so, maybe the grinding had felt just as good.

  He worked on her calves for over an hour, and by the time he moved up to her thighs, she stopped trying to conceal her breasts and scars. Why should she? He’d already seen them and had claimed to find them exquisite. Her arms slid to the ground, useless. God, the man’s hands were magic.

  Magic. Yes. Somehow, he was using magic. Warmth flowed from his skin and into hers, an unnatural warmth, a drugging warmth, intoxicating her, stealing into her muscles, her bones, until every part of her was tingling—and his property. Oh, yes. Whatever he touched instantly became his, existing for him and only him.

  When his knuckles brushed the edge of her panties, every nerve ending she possessed roared to sudden life, reaching for him. Soon she was panting, groaning, trying to anticipate his next move. At her knee, he rubbed, then stroked up, gliding along her thigh, sweeping over—yes, there, please there, almost, almost—only to pause, not quite stroking where she most needed, before reaching for her other thigh. She had to bite her lip to cut off her plaintive cries for more.

  If he would prolong the contact, angle it just a little, she could climax. Oh, God. If she climaxed from this…it would be embarrassing.

  The massage continued. And really, who cared about being embarrassed? She didn’t. When would he brush across her panties again? She tensed, waiting, hoping, so damn eager. Her entire body vibrated. Even the air in her lungs began to heat. But time ticked by, and his motions became a little jerky as he kneaded the knots, never offering such wantonness again.

  “Distract me,” she said. Otherwise, she just might beg him for a happy ending. Something she couldn’t allow herself to do. He said they would mate soon. Which meant, now was not the time. Or was she supposed to beg? Before, in the bedroom, he’d said, Not until you beg me. Was that what he wanted now? What he expected? To work her into a frenzy and hear her plead? Well, she would—

  “Distract you how?” he asked, surprising her.

  Okay, so begging wasn’t on the menu. Astonished with herself, she fought a wave of disappointment. “Tell me a story.”

  He stilled. “A story?”

  “Yes.” She cracked open her eyelids and added, “Whatever you do, don’t stop massaging!”

  His lips twitched despite the tension radiating from him, something she found endearing. Most likely amusement had not been a part of his life for a while, yet he seemed to enjoy her. As she enjoyed him.

  “A story about what?” he asked. He remained between her splayed legs, with her knees bent and framing him.

  “I don’t know. Your family, maybe.” The second she said the words, she wanted to snatch them back. She remembered the passage from the book. He did not recall his past. His memory—

  “I have two brothers and a sister,” he said, and stopped breathing.

  A moment passed, then another. His fangs slid back inside his mouth, disappearing. Shock and pain replaced the desire and joviality in his expression.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, even though she knew the answer. Or thought she did. He needed to speak, to release. Something she had learned—and maybe discarded—in her therapy sessions. But just because she hadn’t tried it, didn’t mean he should not.

  “I didn’t remember my siblings until just now. I suspected, but…I have two brothers and a sister. Right now I know, know, they are real.” There was a challenging note in his voice, as if he expected her to argue.

  “They’re real,” she agreed.

  He grimaced, nodded. “At last I can see them in my mind. I just can’t recall their names. When I try, my head nearly explodes with pain.”

  “Pain?”

  “A courtesy of the healer.”

  “Oh, Nicolai. I am so sorry.” To know you had a family and to be unable to recall the past you shared, well, that was a true torture, and far worse than not knowing they existed at all. For months, Jane had survived only on her memories. “Ease away from thinking about their names and describe what you see.” Perhaps, when he relaxed, his mind focused on one portion of his past, other memories would follow more easily.

  The glaze of pain faded from his eyes, and the corners of his lips quirked up once more. He dug into her muscles with more ferocity. “My youngest brother, just a boy, has green eyes and hair several shades lighter than yours. I see him chasing after me, and that makes me happy.”

  “I bet he looked up to you,” she said to encourage him. “I had an older sister, and I was always chasing after her, desperate to play with her and her friends.”

  “Yes.” Nicolai’s eyes widened, but he was looking beyond her, to a place she couldn’t fathom. “Yes, he did look up to me. To all of us. And we loved him. He was sweetness and innocenc
e rolled into a mischievous package. I—I see us standing together, smiling, a unicorn prancing in front of us.” A real unicorn. Jane wanted details—like, had they saddled the creature and ridden it around?—but didn’t want to interrupt the flow of Nicolai’s recollection. “What about your other brother?”

  “He is younger, as well, though very close to my age.” He paused, as if searching his mind for validation. He nodded. “They are all younger than me. Even my darling sister.”

  “And what are these other siblings like?”

  “My sister has her golden head bent over a spell book. I try to convince her to leave with me, as I must visit the market, but she refuses. She wants to stay, has too much to do. She works too hard, wants to please too many people. And he, the brother closest to my age, has black hair, like mine, and he’s hunting in the forest, racing alongside the wolves.”

  The bookworm and the warrior, huh? “You are the dictator, I bet,” she said with a smile. “And the youngest is the sweetheart.”

  “Micah is a sweetheart, yes.” His eyes widened, a trace of pain returning. “Micah. Yes, that’s his name. I wonder where he is, where they all are, what they’re doing.”

  “You’ll remember, just like you remembered Micah’s name. And maybe you don’t need a healer to do this. These memories came back without her.”

  “Maybe they came back because of you.” Nicolai’s gaze returned to her. He caught sight of her encouraging smile and licked his lips, his expression changing yet again. From wistful to heated, his cheeks flushing, his fangs peeking out. Little beads of sweat popped up on his brow.

  “Me?” The rising sun cast muted, golden rays over their camp. Though he remained in the shadows, his bronzed skin seemed to glow. His eyes swirled, liquid silver, hypnotizing her.

  “Yes. You are the only change in my life,” he said. His attention moved to her breasts, and her nipples pearled for him, as if desperate to please him. “Mine,” he added, reminding her of the beast he had become inside the palace.

  This time, the beast delighted her.

  The tingling reignited, more intense and spreading quickly. She might have moaned. Might have lifted her hips, seeking more of his heat. Hard to tell, because her thoughts were so consumed with what she wanted, needed, from him.

  “You keep saying that.” And she kept hoping it was true. But they’d made no promises to each other, had only stated their desire for each other.

  And really, despite his earlier shout that she would stay with him, she had no idea how much longer they would be together. An hour? A week? A year? They were literally from two different worlds, and she could return as suddenly as she’d appeared.

  “Mine,” he said more forcefully, perhaps sensing her doubts.

  “What do you mean by that? Explain.”

  “Want you. No secret of that. You want me, too.”

  God, those short, abrupt sentences were sexy as hell. As if his mind was locked on one thought—pleasure—and nothing could penetrate his determination to have it. With her and only her.

  But…could she truly satisfy him? More than being from two different worlds, they were completely different people. One, there was his abuse. Would the things she wanted to do to him freak him out? Maybe, maybe not. Nothing had so far. Two, he clearly knew his way around a female body.

  Odette and Laila had been willing to enslave him to experience the joy of his body. Jane knew her way around one man’s. She knew what he had liked, but had no idea what another male might long for.

  Her previous relationship had lasted three years, ending with her accident. Not because of him. Spencer had wanted to stick by her side. She had pushed him away, too grief stricken to deal with him or anyone. And the plain fact was, she had no longer desired him. Not in any way. She had tried, she really had, to make herself want him again. She had planned a date night, with every intention of seducing him. Yet, even the thought of kissing him had made her sick and she had sent him home directly after dinner.

  So, the fact was, while she and Spencer had done everything lovers could do, she’d didn’t have any other experience. None. In school, she’d been far younger than her classmates, so no one had wanted her. After that, she’d been too busy. Spencer was the first man to distract her enough to start something.

  The lack hadn’t bothered her before. There’d been no time to consider it, not even when she had been grinding on top of Nicolai. She’d been too busy trying to figure out what had happened to her, trying to survive her sudden appearance here.

  Now, however, she wanted to be perfect. The best. She wanted to please Nicolai the way he had pleased her in her fantasy.

  She had enjoyed sex. And she had missed it, despite her lack of desire, all these months. Actually, nearly a year now. Mostly, she had loved and missed the afterglow, lying in a man’s arms, absorbing his heat, talking, laughing.

  “I’ve lost you to your thoughts.” Nicolai cursed under his breath, but there was humor in the undercurrent. “I’m trying to resist you, Jane, and I’m failing. The challenge of engaging your attention isn’t helping.”

  “Why?” A breathy entreaty. “I mean, why are you trying to resist?”

  “You need time to recover. And there’s something I must tell you first. Something you will not like.”

  Stomach cramp. “What is it?”

  One heartbeat, two. “Without my memories, I can’t be sure…a woman could be waiting…”

  Another cramp. “Oh, God. You’re married?”

  “No. No, that much I know. Just before my appearance in the Sex Market, I was with a woman…a servant. Yes. I remember that. I would not have been with a servant if I were married. But I might have promised myself to another.”

  Might have… No. Not possible. “You hadn’t.” This she said with a sudden surge of confidence. He was too possessive to sleep with a servant if a fiancée waited in the wings.

  A glimmer of hope in his expression. “I mention this only as a possibility, not a reality. I could never want anyone as much as I want you right now.” He was looming over her a second later, his mouth poised just above hers. He was breathing shallowly, his hands anchored next to her temples, his erection pressed between her legs.

  Finally. The contact she’d yearned for. He was hers, hers, only hers. She could believe nothing less. “You may not know yourself, but I think I know you,” she said. “Trust me, no one is waiting for you.”

  She wasn’t being stubborn or blind about this. Discarding his possessive nature and the fact that any woman he committed to would have his full attention, he was vampire and vampires mated for life. Physically they couldn’t stray. Research had proven that. So, memory or not, he would not react to Jane if his heart belonged to another.

  “Perhaps I am a horrible person, because I don’t care about a faceless stranger,” he said. “I can’t resist you. I won’t resist you. Don’t deny me, Jane. Must taste you, all of you. Please.” He didn’t wait for her reply but leaned the rest of the way down.

  “Nicolai—” She meant to tell him that she couldn’t resist him, either, and she would never deny him, that he wasn’t a horrible person, but the words were lost in a scorching kiss as he meshed their lips together.

  His tongue thrust past her teeth and rolled with hers. Hot, so hot.

  He tasted of mint and…candy. Mmm. Yes, candy. Sugary sweet, the flavor all his own, consumed her.

  Unable to stop herself, she glided her fingers into his hair.

  “Yes. Please. Please,” she said, finally begging.

  Her nails bit into his scalp, holding him to her. She needed more, had to have more, everything else forgotten. Her knees squeezed at his waist, and she rocked herself against him. A gasp of hungry joy escaped her. God! The feel of his erection against her was mind-blowing, shattering, necessary, better than anything she’d ever known. Maybe because she was so damn wet and ready. So she did it again, rocking, rubbing, gasping.

  With a growl of approval, he thrust his tongue deeper
. Their teeth scraped together. Dizzying friction, welcome but torturous as her need ratcheted up another level. Then he angled his head for even deeper contact, and she felt the graze of his fangs. No, this was need. True, undiluted need. She wanted to be bitten, again and again and again. To be everything to him. Lover, sustenance, breath.

  Her blood was heating unbearably, her stomach quivering. On and on the kiss continued, until there was no more oxygen left in her lungs. Until Nicolai was her only lifeline.

  “Please,” she rasped. “Do it.”

  “Gods, Jane. You’re…you’re like fire. I want to be burned.”

  “Yes.”

  He licked his way to the pulse hammering at the base of her neck. Was he going to bite her at last? But no, he continued laving at her pulse, sucking on it as one of his hands cupped her breast and kneaded. He pinched the throbbing nipple, and a lance of delicious sensation shot through her entire body.

  Heaven and hell, so sweetly offered…how close she was to falling over the edge. But when she did, if she did—please, let her—where would she land? The clouds, or the fiery pits?

  Only one way to find out…

  “Nicolai?”

  “Yes, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart. His sweetheart. “Bite me.”

  “Jane.” A groan. “You tempt me. I shouldn’t.”

  Shouldn’t, because he still thought she needed to heal? Or because a part of him still believed another female was out there, waiting for him? If the impossible happened and he was committed… Why impossible? she wondered next. Jane was here, wasn’t she? Nothing was impossible.

  The knowledge caused the first tendrils of doubt to surface. Jane despised cheaters, but she also hated stories that forced two people to remain together because of a sense of duty, rather than love. Nicolai wasn’t in love. And if he had a woman, why hadn’t she searched for him? Saved him? Again, that made Jane think he couldn’t possibly be committed. No girlfriend would have let this guy go. Therefore, Jane could still have him.