by Jessica Lee
Nudging her thighs with his own, he guided her backward through the dark interior. Her back bumped a door, and it fell open, banging against an interior wall. Their breaths came in short pants. “Arran…” His name was a gasp on her lips. “I need…” Her mind whirled, searching for the words to describe the sensations, the desires her body demanded.
The sharp points of Arran’s fangs grazed her throat, and every hair on her body stood on end. Her back arched, and her core spasmed. “Oh God!” she cried out. She hadn’t expected this reaction, this feeling. Arran jumped back as if he’d been stabbed.
“I’m so sorry.” He scrubbed his face with both hands. “Gabrielle—Christ. What the fuck is wrong with me?” He turned his back. “You don’t need this right now. After what you’ve been through tonight—what you’ve seen. The last thing you could possibly want would be a vampire at your throat.” Arran groaned, and she would have sworn he’d been wounded.
He was so wrong and had completely misinterpreted her reaction. She eased forward. “You are exactly what I want.”
Arran whirled around. His eyes blazed with insatiable lust. “You’re confused, kitten.” He shook his head. “We’ve been down this road before. This isn’t what you want,” he said, taking a step in reverse, putting more distance between them.
What an ironic change. In the blink of an eye, she had somehow become the predator, and he the prey. She shivered, the power a heady rush. Witnessing the physical and mental pain Markus and Marguerite were capable of inflicting on her sister had been a wake-up call. It cemented in Elle’s mind just who the real monsters were. And the vampire standing before her was not on that list. Human life, like a candle’s flame, was so easily snuffed. She wanted to live and love, and her past wasn’t going to keep her from her future another minute longer. Tonight, she was ready, and Arran would be hers.
With every step Elle took toward Arran, he matched hers in the opposite direction. When his legs bumped an object, he came to a halt. She peered around him. A large bed occupied the middle of the room. “You’re out of running room, vampire.” She quirked her lips and took the last few steps that placed her in front of him. “For the first time in seven years, Arran, everything is crystal clear. The wall of fear and denial inside my head has come crashing down. I know what I want. Who I want.” His breathing sounded harsh to her ears, as if he’d run a marathon. Yet he stood perfectly still. And if her words weren’t enough, she had a feeling what act would break the leash on the vampire’s control.
Reaching up, she wrapped her fist in the hair at his nape and pulled his head down toward hers. He moaned.
“Gabrielle, what are you doing?”
She lunged forward, burying her blunt and human teeth into the flesh at the base of his neck.
His entire body shuddered against her. She’d barely broken his skin, but it was enough to get her message across: she was ready for everything that came with loving Arran MacLain. The coppery flavor of his blood tingled her taste buds. Her heart stuttered and then surged in her chest. She yanked her head away and gasped for a lungful of air. Her pulse roared in her ears and beat in time between her legs. A wild, guttural noise rolled from him. The sound made her want to drop to her knees and rip at his zipper.
His large and roughened hands circled her arms. He jerked her into his hard chest, forcing her gaze to his. Fire circled his irises. “What have you done?” His body trembled. “I won’t be gentle.” His voice was like nothing she’d ever heard.
“I don’t care,” she breathed. “I need you inside me.”
“Fuck!” His eyelids lowered to half-mast.
“Yes. God… Arran. Please, fuck me.” Her shirt was over her head before she had the chance to ask twice. He grabbed at her bra, breaking the clasp at the front. She pulled at his T-shirt. “Off,” she ordered. “Let me touch you.”
He yanked his shirt from his body, then fumbled with the button and zipper to her jeans. Arran fell to his knees, taking her pants with him. Staring at the small patch of cotton covering her mound, he groaned. A second later, the material lay torn in two on the floor. Damn, she couldn’t be more wet. Arran straightened, and her feet left the floor. Turning, he lowered her onto the mattress.
She sprang back into a sitting position and reached for the button to his jeans. “I want to see you. Touch you.” His fingers beat her to the zipper.
“Not this time. I can’t do slow.” His jeans hit the floor, and his cock surged forward uncontained. He was large, thick, and the sight made her mouth water, her palms itch.
His broad chest lowered over hers, forcing her back as he descended. She inched farther onto the bed, making room for his massive build. Oh God. This was happening. He was above her. His cock brushed between her thighs. Her breath hitched, and she ran her palms up his arms, his biceps flexing beneath her touch.
“Please…” She was going to die if he didn’t bury himself inside her.
“Wrap your legs around me.”
Lifting her legs, she followed the hard feel of his thighs against her calf until they rested around his hips. The broad head of his cock slid between her folds, and her legs shook.
“Fuck, you’re so hot and wet.” He groaned. “Can’t hold back. Forgive me.” His hips pistoned forward. She cried out as every inch of his cock filled her. Stretched her until his balls tapped her rear. “So tight. Damn. So damn good.” He leaned in and feathered kisses across her lips.
“Yes, so good,” she murmured against his mouth. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
He pulled back, and she wanted to scream from the loss. Arran surged forward again, awakening every nerve inside her pussy. She’d had sex before. It wasn’t like she was a virgin, but it’d been years. Not since she was nineteen, the year Arran had saved her life, and she’d become a part of the Enclave. But it had never felt like this. So good. So…right. She tilted her hips, matching his stroke, taking him deeper. Arran leaned in, grinding his pelvis into her clit.
“Yes, please… Right there.” She tossed her head back, squeezing his hips with her thighs, and he slammed his mouth down onto hers.
Dominant.
Claiming.
Yet she didn’t submit. Instead, she kissed him back with as much possession as he took. His growl vibrated inside her mouth. A second later, Arran broke their kiss but kept his lips connected to hers, bathing them with his.
“Is gradhaich leam thu,” he breathed into her mouth. She had no idea what the words meant, but the ragged sound of his voice as he uttered them rocketed her to the brink of release.
Elle moaned, her climax so close. As if sensing her need, he rotated his hips and picked up speed. Each thrust of his cock rubbed and thumped the collection of nerves inches inside her entrance, and every rotation of his hips applied the pressure she desperately needed. A euphoric wave of sensation, centering deep inside her, expanded. Her core clenched, wanting more of the hard feel of his length. The wave crested. Her body tightened. She squeezed her eyelids shut, but the pleasure couldn’t be contained.
“Arran!” she cried out, digging her nails into his arms as it rolled through her. Rocking her.
She hadn’t come down from the bursts of ecstasy skating along her nerve endings when he captured her earlobe in his teeth. Elle’s breath caught, and her eyes popped open. He continued to pump his hips, slowly working his cock in and out of her, maintaining a constant buzz to her mind and body.
One of his callous hands settled on her breast. His fingers lightly squeezed a nipple, drawing her hips up and into another downward thrust. She whimpered under the exquisite pleasure-pain.
“Tell me what you feel, annsachd,” he whispered at her ear. “Who do you feel?”
Oh God. “You.”
The warm, wet feel of his tongue brushed her ear.
“My name.” The moist heat of it, then dragged across her neck. “Say it.” His hips stilled, his erection deep inside, but holding more of the pleasure she craved hostage.
“Arra
n, it’s you. I feel you.” Whatever he wanted, she’d say it as long as he didn’t stop.
“Who’s loving you, kitten?” His fangs scraped her flesh, stealing her breath. His shaft eased from her one hard inch. She gasped, clamping down on his retreat, not wanting it to end.
“It’s you, Arran. You’re loving me.” Her voice trembled. “Don’t stop.”
“Whose cock is deep inside your pussy?” He slammed home again as if to make his point, driving a moan from her throat.
“Arran’s. Only you, Arran.” She reached up, grabbed his head, sinking her fingers into his hair. “Now. Please…do it now.”
“Annsachd.” His lips brushed her skin as he mumbled the strange word again at her throat. A sharp sting pierced her flesh. She jerked, but strong arms held her still. His lips pulled at her neck, and her mouth fell open on a soundless scream. Not from pain, but from the most incredible electric storm of rapture. Her hips lifted from the bed and drove into his. Deeper. Yes, more. More of him.
Another orgasm seized her, sweeping her back into the storm. His mouth jerked from her neck, and her name filled the room on a shout. Hot seed filled her depths. She wrapped her arms around him, floating in bliss as he rocked through his climax. His heartbeat pounded against her breast. She kissed the hollow of his neck, reveling in the knowledge that she’d been right about tonight. Her soul had been changed forever.
She’d lost a piece of it…and it belonged to Arran MacLain.
Chapter Thirteen
Arran was fucked.
Physically and mentally.
He was in love with Gabrielle, and there was no sense in lying to himself anymore. In fact, if not for his lucky slip back into Gaelic while he was inside her, she would know exactly how he felt. She released a small groan of displeasure as he slid from her and headed to the bathroom, but he was back a few seconds later with a warm cloth. This time, she sighed with pleasure and eased to her back when he placed it between her legs, bathing the residual traces of their lovemaking away.
The room was dark, but his excellent night vision allowed him to drink in her creamy, naked flesh. His cock stirred again. The musky scent of their combined sex was a potent aphrodisiac. She rolled to her stomach, giving him a full view of her luscious ass. He groaned and tossed the cloth into a basket on the floor on the other side of the room.
What was he going to do about his beloved Gabrielle? His annsachd.
His mind demanded he leave her alone. Once she knew the truth about his ugly past, she would hate him. She would despise the fact she’d given him her heart and allowed him to touch her. And there was no doubt she’d given more than just her body to him tonight. He knew her. She would have never slept with him if she didn’t care. Fuck. Why didn’t he leave sooner? He would rather walk into the sun than hurt her.
But now…there was no fucking way he could ever walk away.
Arran dragged his palm over the back of Gabrielle’s thigh, then up and over the rounded curves of her ass. Damn, she was so soft. He crept his hand toward the juncture between her legs and dipped in, finding the most delicious temptation. She was swollen, wet, and hot.
“You’re not asleep, kitten,” he announced, permitting a bit of the brogue to roll off his tongue.
Slowly, she rolled and faced him. The passion smoldering in her eyes drove more blood into his groin. His cock pulsed with the fisted beats of his heart. Never pulling his gaze away from hers, he lifted the two fingers that had found her arousal to his mouth and eased them between his lips. Gabrielle’s mouth parted, and her pupils grew large, giving away the heightened state of her lust. Fuck, yeah…and it was all centered on him. When the hell had whatever deity was in charge decided to allow him such a treasure? He wasn’t going to question the logic, at least not tonight. Because for the first time in more years than he wanted to remember, he felt alive.
“Come with me, kitten.” He offered her his hand. “I’ve got something to show you.”
She cocked her head with a seductive grin. “What are you up to?” She slid her palm into his and rose. Her nipples brushed his arm as she leaned in, lifting every hair on his body. Damn, she had no idea the power she held over him. Her lips heated his with a siren’s kiss. One meant to torture, tantalize, and enthrall. And she was a master. A breath away from his mouth, she lifted her lashes. “Can I trust you, vampire?”
The question landed in his gut like a spiked fist. Heavy and gnawing. Always, the assurance stuck at the back of his throat. Blocked by the other reply that scared the shit out of him: hell, no.
He pulled her tight into his embrace, desperate for the feel of her heart beating against his chest. “I would die for you. Never forget that.” He seized her lips in a bruising kiss, stamping his claim on them, on her. Moments later, she was the first to pull back. He loved the sweet sound of her rapid pants and the feel of them against his mouth. Her palms touched his cheeks, bringing his gaze to hers. Tears pooled in her eyes, but this time, the smile beneath the shimmer told him they were a product of happiness.
“That’s the most amazing thing anyone has ever said to me.” Her hands roamed the planes of his face as if she were attempting to memorize his features. “I’ll never forget, and I would give my life for yours in a second.”
Her words shot like a bullet through his chest, and he jerked out of her hold. “Never!”
She blinked.
Grabbing her arms, he gave her a small shake. “Don’t ever say that. Don’t ever think that way. I’m not worthy of your life.”
Her mouth fell open, then closed again as if she couldn’t process her thoughts. Then finally, her lips parted. “Jesus, Arran.” She slowly shook her head. “Is that how you really feel about yourself?”
Whirling around, he climb off the bed and jabbed both hands into his hair, forcing his fingers through. He sucked in a lungful of air and blew it out—hard. Buying time. Because he didn’t have a damn clue how to handle this. He wasn’t ready to lose her. Arran dragged a palm across his face. He should have known. Should have fucking known. No deity was ever going to cut him a break and allow him something this precious—this good—in his life.
“I take it from your silence that your answer is yes?” He stilled but didn’t look back. What would he find there in her eyes? “Well, that’s a shame, because you mean a hell of a lot more than that to me.”
He rounded on her. “I don’t deserve you. Don’t you get that by now?”
She moved from the bed, rising to her feet like a nude goddess. Her breasts swayed with the rock of her hips, and his balls drew tight. His cock ached to sink back inside her. Her fingernails grazed his chest as she slid them upward, parting the hairs across his pecs and sending chills down his spine.
“Why?” One delicate brow arched. “Because of your past? When you and Logan belonged to the colony in Virginia?”
“What did you just say?” A growl rumbled deep in his chest, and her eyelids widened.
“Shit. I’m sorry.” Arran rushed to her, draped his arm around her, and turned her back into his chest. Her words were stuck inside his head on a continuous replay loop. She knew. Gabrielle knew and had still wanted him.
Arran ran his palm up and down her back, warming her. “How long have you known, and do I even need to guess who filled you in on my illustrious past?”
Moving out of his hold, she grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She dropped back down onto the edge of the bed and with one hand, tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I just learned about what happened between you two when Logan showed up the other night.”
“He had no damn right telling you any of that shit.” Arran knew he sounded like some kind of wild animal, but he couldn’t hold back the growl rolling out along with his words.
“I’m glad he did.”
Arran threw her his best are-you-crazy? look. “Well, I’m not,” he said. “I never wanted you to know.” He turned away and braced himself on the door frame between the bedroom and
bathroom. Being with her tonight before he knew she’d known all the dirty secrets of his past had been so much easier. But now…now he didn’t even know how to bring himself to look at her. Fuck. He was afraid. Afraid he might see pity or disgust written on her face. So much for the rest of his plans for the night.
“It explained a lot about why you pushed me away for years. But what happened in Virginia was a long time ago. You’re a different person now.”
Whirling around, he asked, “Am I?” In half a second, he was on his knees and in her face. “I’m still a killer.” He flashed his fangs. “It’s been more than a hundred and fifty years, but I’m still the same twenty-nine-year-old male who jumped at the chance to turn vampire. I thought, what the hell, I’d already lost everything: my family to starvation, my humanity to the crimes I’d committed to stay alive. I was so drunk; I didn’t realize that what the female offered that night in Glasgow wasn’t an escape, but an eternity to live with all that I’d done—with what I was capable of doing.” Gabrielle’s hand lifted, and her fingertips traced the length of his fangs, then trailed over the surface of his lips. He groaned and flicked his tongue out for a taste of her.
“You don’t scare me, Arran MacLain.” Her words were barely a whisper, but they thundered inside his mind. “I know you.” She dipped her head and brushed her lips against his. “I’ve felt you inside me, stroking my soul,” she breathed against his mouth. “Felt the pleasure of your bite. You can’t tell me something so good can be so bad.” Her lips seared his in a hungry kiss. How the hell had this happened? He opened his heart and kissed her in return, wanting her to feel how much her words, her acceptance, meant. It was the last thing he had expected. She wasn’t running. Gabrielle was in his arms, and she didn’t despise him for loving her.
“Keep your arms around me, kitten,” he said, breaking their kiss. “I want to share something with you.” She linked her arms around his neck.