Love At First Bite

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  His fingers brushed a stray tear from her cheek. His eyes were soft as he gazed down at her. “And you deserve to be… loved. I’m thinking I cannot do this, Anne. Marry you. Not even for revenge.”

  Would Merrick reject her, as well? This possibility had not occurred to Anne when she’d ridden off into the night with him. “You don’t want me, either,” she whispered.

  His eyes closed for a moment, as if her accusation hurt him. “I wanted you from the first moment I saw you. There are things I don’t even understand about myself, Anne. You are good and kind and innocent, and you deserve better than this. An arrangement.”

  She’d believed if she hardened her heart against the world, it might spare her from ever feeling pain again. But now Anne understood that she was all that she had aspired to become while growing up. Her heart was soft, and it was soft for this man. She reached up and touched his cheek in turn.

  “You are a better man than you give yourself credit for being. No man has ever made me feel the things that you make me feel.”

  Merrick suddenly pulled away from her and turned his back. “I make all women feel things,” he said, his tone harsh. “It is one of my ‘gifts.’”

  Anne wasn’t certain what he meant. She supposed she could count the way he looked as being a gift. His voice, low and lilting, that flowed over her like sweet honey syrup she imagined could be counted as a gift, too. But Anne knew her attraction toward him went beyond his outer beauty. His scent, even though it attracted her, could not make her feel something she didn’t honestly feel inside.

  Whether he wanted to have them or not, Merrick had morals. She strongly suspected that he would not take her innocence tonight without wedding her on the morrow. Which left Anne no choice but to seduce him. She couldn’t turn back now. She didn’t want to turn back.

  Anne closed the distance between them and touched his shoulder. He turned to look at her. Lifting herself on tiptoes, she pressed her mouth against his. Although inexperienced in the art of seduction, Anne sensed that she must rid herself of all inhibitions—simply act upon her emotions and let them carry her away, and him with her, she hoped.

  Merrick’s lips were warm, firm, and, unfortunately, unresponsive. She glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. His eyes were open. She ended the contact.

  “Tell me you want me, Anne.”

  Surely he knew that she did. Surely he had the experience to know. “You know that I do.”

  Merrick shook his dark head. “No, I don’t know. Is it the scent on me that makes you want me? Does the reason have anything to do with me at all? Tell me you want me, Anne. Only me.”

  He reached out and pulled her closer. His scent was in the air now and Anne had to admit it was a strong aphrodisiac. But it was the man she wanted. The man who had taught her to ride a horse bareback, who had taken her racing across the moors in the moonlight. The man who had saved her from wolves. The man who cared enough about her to warn her of her aunt and uncle’s deception. The man who would turn his back on a fortune because he thought she deserved more than a bargain for the sake of revenge.

  All of her life, Anne had been waiting to be loved again.

  Longing to be loved again. In that moment, she realized that Merrick did love her. Perhaps he did not even know it, but she knew it, and for the moment, that was all that mattered.

  “It’s the man I want, Merrick,” she answered. “It’s the man I love.”

  His eyes flared in the darkness. “Do you love me? A bastard? A man with strange gifts he cannot understand and a heart bitter against a world that has no proper place for him?”

  Her arms went around his neck. “Your place is with me. Destiny brought us together. I need your strength and you need my softness.”

  Slowly, he lowered his head. His lips brushed softly across hers. “You have strength enough on your own, Anne,” he said.

  “Make love to me,” she whispered. “Share all that you are with me. And I will share all that I am, or have, with you.”

  Merrick made a low sound in his throat, nearly a growl. His eyes flashed blue fire in the night. “Don’t tempt me, Anne. You know I want you.”

  She lifted her chin. “Then take me, Merrick.”

  He smiled at her daring. “You would trap me into taking your innocence so that I am honor bound to say the vows tomorrow. Very clever, Anne.”

  Although what he said was true, he needn’t make it sound as if that were Anne’s only reason for wanting him. Who better than him? A man who understood her love of horses and riding? A man who would let her have her independence and who wouldn’t mind so much if she wanted to be bad on occasion, perhaps as long as it was only with him? There was no wrong in tricking him into making love to her. Anne loved him. He might not say the words, but he loved her, as well. Or she thought he did. Was she fooling herself again?

  “Do you love me, Merrick?”

  He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. “You’re a hard woman not to love.”

  It wasn’t an answer. Not really. “Do you love me?” she repeated.

  He looked away from her. She thought he wouldn’t answer; then he glanced back into her eyes. “You know I do.”

  Her heart pounded in her chest. Joy rose inside of her, because she knew he wasn’t lying to her. He wasn’t trying to deceive her. At long last, she had what she wanted. Bravely, Anne reached down and pulled her shirt and chemise over her head. She stood before him bare to the waist.

  “Show me you love me,” she said.

  The fire in his eyes flared. His gaze roamed her naked flesh. Everywhere he looked, her skin heated. Her nipples puckered in the cool night air.

  “Jesus, lass,” he whispered, his voice low and raw sounding. “You’re beautiful. Your skin is like fine porcelain—so pale and smooth I wonder if you’ll break if I touch you.”

  “I will not break,” she assured him, her own voice breathless. “Touch me and see.”

  Merrick’s eyes locked with hers. He reached out and touched her cheek, caressing her gently before lowering his hand to her breast. She fit into his hand as if she were fashioned for him alone.

  She gasped softly when his thumb brushed across her sensitive nipple. He bent forward, kissed her neck, then moved lower until his tongue performed the same tantalizing dance that his thumb had a moment earlier. Anne twisted her fingers in his thick hair. Her knees nearly buckled when he took the straining peak into his warm mouth and sucked. He straightened, gazed into her eyes, then picked her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing.

  Their blankets were spread for the night and he took her to his, lowered her gently, and knelt beside her. “What do you know of matters between men and women, Anne?”

  “Nothing much,” she answered. “My aunt didn’t speak to me of such things. My maid told me there would be pain my first time with a man.”

  Merrick ran a finger down her arm. “I don’t know about being with a woman her first time. But I know there can be pleasure between us. Are you willing to go through the pain first?”

  He offered her one last time to regain her senses. Anne didn’t want to regain them. She did trust him. She had to trust him. There could not be love without trust.

  “Yes,” she answered. “I trust you, Merrick.”

  Slowly, he pulled his shirt over his head. Anne hadn’t seen him without a shirt, and she quickly surmised it was something she wanted to do often in the future. His skin gleamed in the moonlight.

  A smattering of dark hair covered his chest, tapering down into a thin line that traced a path down his corded stomach to disappear into the top of his trousers. She wanted to touch him. Wanted it badly enough to reach out and run her fingers down his chest. He was warm to the touch, as she knew he would be. She didn’t know that a man could look soft and feel hard. There was no excess to be found on him. Only steely muscle and glorious tawny-colored skin.

  “You are beautiful,” she whispered.

  “Come into my arms,” he commanded. “Feel my
skin against yours. Feel the differences between us.”

  She went willingly. The touch of her skin against his was like nothing she had experienced before. He tangled his hands in her hair and pulled her head back. Then he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.

  They sank into a kiss where mouths were fused, tongues clashed, and gentleness slipped away on the night breeze. The soft down on his chest teased her nipples and sent heat coursing to the place between her legs. He lowered her to the blanket, mouths still joined, skin against skin. Only when her head touched the ground, cradled by his hand, did he end the kiss. Merrick stared down at her, hypnotizing her with his strange night eyes; then he bent to kiss her neck.

  Lower he traveled, finding her nipple and drawing it so deep into his mouth that her nails dug into his shoulders. Her hips arched upward as if by some uncontrollable force. Between her legs, she began to throb. Slowly his hand traveled down her body. He came to the tie on her trousers and loosened it, then pulled the trousers down her hips and legs.

  Anne was a modest person by nature. It wasn’t so easy to leave the past behind in one night. But when Merrick kissed her again, she began to relax. While he distracted her with the skill of his mouth, he introduced her to the skill of his fingers.

  The first touch made her jump, to have his hand there, where no man had been before. He did not soothe her with soft words but continued to kiss her, doing nothing more than stroking the curls that shielded her mound. It wasn’t so awkward, Anne decided, more distracted by his tongue delving into her mouth than what purpose his hand might hold.

  When she didn’t resist, he became bolder. Gently, he slid his finger into her cleft and rubbed a place where all her sensation must surely lie. Anne gasped and tried to close her legs.

  “Don’t,” he said softly. “Don’t shut me out. Let me bring you pleasure before I bring you pain.”

  Her face flamed with embarrassment. “I—I’m wet there for some reason.”

  He smiled and gave her a soft, quick kiss. “If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be doing my job. You’re wet there so our bodies can join. It’s to welcome me in, so don’t shut me out.”

  Anne willed her body to relax. She’d never imagined what all intimacy with a man entailed, but she rather thought it would be a quick affair, both only exposing the necessary parts to complete the act, then quickly righting their clothing and going to sleep. Necessary parts stuck in her head.

  “Am I allowed to touch you, as well?” she asked. “I mean, wherever I wish?”

  He lifted a brow. “Curious?”

  “Yes,” she answered.

  He bent and kissed her again. “My body is yours tonight.” He suddenly stood, slipped off his boots, then reached for the ties of his Cossacks. Ann turned on her side, placed a hand under her head, and watched him. She thought he took an abnormally long time to untie the fastening of his trousers. She might have even thought he was stalling, that he might be more modest than he pretended to be, but then she realized she was holding her breath, her eyes glued to the ties as his fingers leisurely undid them, and what he did he did for her pleasure.

  Finally the ties were loosened and he slid his trousers down his hips, past his legs, and stepped from them. He straightened and stood before her naked. She supposed her eyes widened—resembled two twin moons. Whispered words from the ladies at the fair like “stallion” came to mind, and with good reason.

  “Do you like what you see, Anne?”

  She glanced up at his face. Shadows hid his features, but his eyes still glowed blue. Slowly, her gaze ran the length of him again. Past his broad shoulders, his muscled chest and flat abdomen, to the member jutting proudly, and rather impressively, away from his body. His hips were slim, his flanks smooth; his muscled legs were long and dusted by dark hair.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Whatever your bloodline, you are a fine specimen of a man.”

  He came to her, bent beside her. Even though his eyes were on fire, his touch was gentle. He kissed her softly—teased her lips until her arms slid up around his neck and her fingers twisted in his hair. He lay beside her and pulled her into his arms and the contact of flesh against flesh, male against female, warmed her body and crashed through any defenses still standing. Slowly, he traced a finger down her body from neck to navel, and then lower.

  “I want to touch you, and taste you, and make you mine… forever.”

  She wanted that, too. To be claimed by him, to claim him in turn. Bravely, she reached out and touched him, let her fingers slide down his broad chest, his flat stomach, to wrap around his sex. He jerked slightly and Anne quickly snatched her hand away.

  “Did I hurt you?” she whispered.

  “No,” he assured her. “Just took me a bit by surprise.”

  Again she reached out and touched him. “Is it always so… so…?”

  “No,” he assured her again. “Although around you, yes, most of the time.”

  She wanted to ask him more, but he bent toward her and kissed her again. Anne was innocent, but not so innocent that she didn’t understand that he was finished talking. He moved lower and kissed her neck, then lower. While he teased her nipples with his teeth and tongue, his hand slid down again to her woman’s mound, and she did not shut him out. He stroked her there as he had done before, stroked her until she bit her lip and moved with and against the pressure of his fingers. A force built inside of her—a desperate need—a hunger she had never felt before.

  Her breath now came in ragged gasps. Her nails dug into his back, and beneath him she bucked as if she had no control over her body. He increased the pressure, and when he slipped one finger inside of her she nearly came up off the blanket.

  “Easy,” he said against her lips, and Anne thought it was the same tone he used to calm skittish horses. The pressure stopped and she wanted to whimper—to beg—but for what she still wasn’t certain. Gently, he spread her legs with his knees, then settled between them. Instinctively, Anne tensed beneath him, but he kissed her, distracting her sudden trepidation, and when he made no further move, she began to relax, to savor the feel of his mouth moving over hers, his tongue delving into her mouth in a rhythm her hips wanted to match for some odd reason.

  His hand slid between them again and he took up the torture. He’d told her she was supposed to be wet there, and Anne was glad of it or she would have been terribly embarrassed. He used that wetness, rubbing her sensitive nub until she thought something inside of her would burst. Then she felt him poised at the entrance to her woman’s passage.

  He was big there, just like the rest of him was big, and she felt him stretching her with the tip of his member. He moved a little ways inside of her and she gasped with the pressure. He gasped, too, but it was a different sort of distress, she thought.

  “Damn,” he whispered. “You shouldn’t feel this good. I’m trying to go slow with you, Anne. It’s damn hard to do when you feel like this.”

  And having said as much, he thrust in deeper. The pain was sharp and stabbing and caught her by surprise. She didn’t scream, although the gasp that emerged from her lips was more forceful than the last. Tears stung her eyes, and for a moment she wondered how he’d managed to seduce her into this position. He moved in deeper and she steeled herself for more pain. It didn’t come. Not that she wasn’t very aware of him, his size filling her, stretching her, but there wasn’t pain, only pressure.

  “Now that the pain is over, I can please you,” he said. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. He kissed her deeply, while below he slowly but steadily invaded her body. He moved, and he moved in such a way that stimulated her, just as he had done with his fingers earlier. It wasn’t unpleasant.

  Her hips arched against him. He sucked in his breath and plunged deeper. She sucked in her breath, too, and then her body took over, her instincts, her passion for him, and gentle wooing slipped away. His scent filled her senses and something primitive rose up inside of her. Her nails dug into his back, her teeth
nipped at his neck, and he thrust deeper, harder, forcing a moan of pleasure from her. She began to tingle, then to throb where they were joined. Desperation made her move wildly beneath him. He pulled back, twisted his hand in her hair, and stared down at her, his eyes aglow with passion.

  That’s when she shattered, when the pressure had built to the point it would no longer be contained. Warmth spread over her, and her body continued to buck and convulse against him, and still he moved, still he thrust, only extending the pleasure until she thought she would die from it. Only when she thought she could stand no more did he thrust deep inside of her, groan her name, and hold himself there, still, as if he were poised on the brink of death. Then she felt him shudder. She clung to him, their hearts pounding wildly against each other, bodies coated in sweat, breathing fast and erratic.

  She thought it had ended, the storm that raged between them, battered them, spat them out upon the shore to do nothing but lie exhausted, but then Merrick groaned and rolled away from her. He doubled up, clutching his stomach.

  Anne struggled to turn on her side. Her limbs felt as if they had no bones. “What is it, Merrick?”

  He didn’t answer, but his body jerked. Anne wasn’t familiar with lovemaking, but she didn’t suspect this was part of it. “Merrick,” she tried again. “Look at me. Tell me what is wrong!”

  He tilted his head back. His eyes glowed blue, which was not something she hadn’t seen before, but as he gasped with the pain, the moonlight gleamed off of his teeth, and they did not look like they had a moment earlier. His eyeteeth had lengthened and strongly resembled fangs. She touched his face and he grabbed her wrist. Anne nearly screamed. His fingers were bent, his nails jutting from his fingertips like claws.

  Staring down at his hand, as she did, Merrick quickly released her. “What am I?” he whispered, and his voice came out garbled. “What am I?” he shouted, his voice in agony as his body began to convulse and contort.