He seemed to understand. Spreading the sheet on the ground before them, he held out his hand to her. She set hers into the large, heated strength of his. “Mine and yours,” he whispered, so moved that his body trembled as he pressed their clasped hands over his heart. “For now.”
He kissed her hard then, shedding all semblance of control as his tongue delved so deeply into her that she couldn’t tell where one kiss ended and another began. Fire ignited between her legs, and a hot need made her breasts ache. He kissed her until she thought she would scream if he didn’t touch her somewhere else right that second or die if he didn’t keep kissing her again and again. She arched to him, thrusting against him, wanting every part of her in contact with the fluid heat of his passion. She needed and wanted him everywhere.
Leaving her mouth, he ran his tongue to the edge of her jaw, down her neck, then slowly to her nipple. She watched the tip of his tongue circling her hard peak several times before finally taking her into his mouth and lashing the needy point until she shuddered in his arms. She groaned deeply, urgently, clasping his shoulders as her knees went weaker.
Pressing her back over his arm, he gave the same treatment to her other breast, then both of them until she was a puddle of seething, edgy need. He started to move lower, and she knew that once he did, she would be lost, and all of those sweet droplets of water slipping down his hard, delectable body would be wasted.
Urging him back, she kissed him, ran her tongue across his bottom lip and sucked upon its softness before she slid her tongue down the rough cleft of his chin. She licked up beads of water, sucking kisses along the supple skin of his neck and the hard planes of his chest. When she flicked her finger over the disk of his nipple, his body tensed and his breath caught. She did it again and again until his hips jerked against her. Then she teased him with her tongue and teeth as she kissed her way down the ripples of his abdomen to his pulsing erection.
He was hard and needy. Falling to her knees on the satin sheet, she sucked the long length of him into the warmth of her mouth, then slowly pulled back, slipping her tongue back and forth across his sensitive tip. She ran her hands up the sculpted contours of his thick legs and kneaded the taut muscles of his buttocks before gently caressing everything that made him so powerfully male.
He cried out in pleasure, his legs shaking from the force of it.
“Enough!” he said, falling to his knees before her.
“There’s more,” she said.
“I know. You.” He pressed her back onto the satin. Then he brought his mouth to hers in a searing kiss that started at her lips and dragged down to her slick sex. That she was completely bare there didn’t seem to hinder him at all. In fact, it seemed as if he took extra enjoyment in lapping and nipping every plump nuance of her exposed sex, suckling every contour, running his tongue and teeth over every smooth inch. Her cries of growing pleasure echoed through the cave.
“Aragon!” she shouted, and told him she couldn’t take anymore without him being inside her.
He smiled, settling himself between her legs until the thick, burning tip of his erection teased the opening of her sex. “Nothing compares to sharing this journey with you as it was meant to be,” he said roughly.
He cupped her breasts together and branded each tip with the heat of his tongue before he drove himself deep inside her. She sighed, locking her legs about his hips and arching her back to meet the power of his every thrust. He held her hands captive beneath his, palm to palm, giving her no choice but to lie back and fully absorb every sensation he gave. He thrust into her hard and fast, angled to glide teasingly along her hot spot. His chest brushed her sensitized breasts as he stroked her to the very core of her womb, making her whole body strain and shudder from the force of the building pleasure. Then he eased out slowly, his gaze never leaving hers as he repeated his thrusts again and again, driving her desire past the point of reason, past the point of caring about anything but the wild eruption of pleasure consuming and binding them together. She didn’t know the exact moment that his spirit penetrated hers again, she just knew that he was there in her mind, experiencing her pleasure and sharing his. The simultaneous rush of her climax and his hit her in an overpowering ecstasy that entwined her mind, body, and soul with Aragon’s. And the flood of it thrust her pleasure to a new height, one that she knew Aragon shared completely, down to the very essence of his warrior’s soul.
Pathos wanted to rip out every one of the Vladarians’ throats. They were the reason he wasn’t doing what he wanted to be doing at that moment. Well, not exactly. Aragon was the primary reason. The bastard had had the balls to invade his domain and steal what Pathos was dying for. His only consolation was that Pathos had trained Aragon.
But the Vladarians were why Pathos was stuck in a room full of pompous asses, listening to them bemoan Shashur’s fate, listening to their panic over the possibility their future supply of Elan blood would dry up. They had divided into either regional or financial factions. The Western Europeans with Wellbourne sat in one corner, the Russians in another, the oil magnates together—a mixture of nationalities that included the Latin Vasquez and the Arabic Samir. Then there were the royals, who considered themselves above the rest. But no matter how lofty, vicious, or depraved, there was one element that reduced them all to the level of beasts.
Mortal blood. And they were now fighting over which faction would store the reserves of Elan blood. Pathos had shipped the stock of Elan blood to Corazon last night because it was the closest facility, and would ask the fewest questions. Now Vasquez was threatening not to allow the other Vladarians access to the blood if they didn’t follow his bid to become their new leader. Word had spread, as Pathos knew it would, that Pathos wanted Cinatas to become the next leader of the Vladarians. That had the factions of the oil-rich and the royals up in arms.
Elan blood, the sweetest and most powerful blood of the mortals, gave vampires a dynamic charisma and allowed them to go longer between feedings. He also had heard the infusion of the blood was an orgasmic experience beyond compare.
Orgasm. Something he hadn’t had in years. Hadn’t even wanted in years. Until now.
He clenched his fists, feeling the burning in his loins increase. She’d been prepared for him. He’d had his hands on her plump, succulent flesh, so ready for the taste of her, so ready to twist her soul to his pleasures. He closed his eyes, but instead of seeing himself thrusting into her, he saw Aragon.
A roar of rage exploded from him.
The room went deadly silent, each faction of the Vladarians reacting differently.
“Enough!” Pathos stood, sweeping the room with a furious glare. “Enough bickering and sniveling. My patience is at an end. As soon as the Arcadia Research Center is repaired, the blood will return there. Cinatas will continue your transfusions from the frozen supply of proven donors. No one will be accorded the luxury of fresh blood. Cinatas will now take over the task of directing you ungrateful beasts. Those who are in agreement with this will stand.”
Vasquez cursed, jumping up from his seat.
“I take it you are voting for my son, Vasquez?” Pathos asked with a deadly calm that he was far from feeling.
“No! Vasquez will be in charge of the Vladarians.” Vasquez charged to the front of the room.
“Very well,” Pathos said, smiling. “Those in favor of Cinatas will stand, and those for Vasquez will remain seated. But first, my son, will you tell the Vladarians what you will do for them as their leader?”
Cinatas stood. “I’ve always made miraculous strides to meet the Vladarians’ need for Elan blood. As leader I will discover what in the fresh Elan blood sent Shashur into nonexistence.”
“Now, Vasquez,” Pathos said, looking at the Vladarian with distaste, “what will you do as leader?”
“Vasquez will restore the Vladarians’ power and future back into the hands of the Vladarians and out of a were’s.”
“Since you’ve already threatened to withhold Elan blood
from those not in accordance with your will, we can all deduce that you mean your hand, and your power. It is time to vote, gentlemen. Those for Cinatas stand.”
Pathos was encouraged to see that Wellbourne was the first to stand. Others followed, until only a few besides the oil lords remained seated. The majority ruled, and Cinatas had it.
“The Vladarians have chosen. Gentlemen, I suggest you avail yourselves of the pleasures the Falls has to offer. In the morning we will discuss the details of this new rule, and Cinatas will address you as your new leader. EVERYONE will be here.”
Then, before he could get dragged into any of the erupting arguments, he exited the room. For the rest of the night, he was going to hunt, and his red demons were going to help. They’d leave no bed unturned, and no friend of hers free. He’d find Aragon and Annette wherever they were hiding. Then he’d send Aragon to suffer the tortures of the damned, and once he’d taken Annette, he’d claim her soul for Heldon, imprisoning her for eternity.
Chapter Eighteen
S OMETHING WAS WRONG.
Aragon awoke suddenly at the feeling clawing at his insides. He relaxed slightly as he heard the storm continue to lash the mortal ground. The battle raging in the heavens was one of the fiercest he’d ever heard, telling him that the concentration of evil surrounding Pathos hadn’t been just in the mortal realm. Hopefully that was why York and Navarre had left the cave, and not because Navarre was failing.
Still, something else nagged at him, and it wasn’t the fading sensation he’d been experiencing since journeying through the spirit barrier. Nor was it the hungry vibrancy that had him in a constant state of hard need for Annette.
His shoulder, which should have healed by now, still stung where the Underling had gouged him, and something he couldn’t describe coursed through him. It was as if the bloodlust that had raged almost out of control earlier had gained a foothold in him and wouldn’t let go. He felt tarnished, somehow less than honorable.
Had evil somehow infected him?
He shook off the thought. Underlings were not like Tsaras.
Maybe it was angst over Navarre that had him feeling this way. Concern for his fellow Blood Hunter ate at Aragon’s heart. Or maybe it was his dread of telling Annette about the Guardian Council’s judgment.
For that weighed very heavily on his heart, too. She needed to know they had even less time. He didn’t have the luxury of lingering to discover how long it took to become a faded warrior. As soon as he assured her safety and located her sister, he would have to return to face the council.
Annette stirred. Nestled snugly against him, she reach to caress his rough cheek with her palm. “I sense your worry,” she said.
“Many things are as they should not be.”
“And you feel as if you have to change them all. Put them right.” She wasn’t asking a question, but making a statement.
“I must. Partly because I am responsible for some of the wrong, and partly because I am the one who can best do what needs to be done.” He pulled her closer to him, wondering how to tell her about the Guardian Council’s verdict. Having his brethren at war overhead made him feel comfort at their closeness and regret that he’d driven them apart with his obsession. But none of those feelings compared with the stabbing grief of having to leave Annette and face the punishment of the council.
He wanted and needed her with a force greater than his will. And it was only because he didn’t have to walk away at that moment that he could even imagine he’d have the strength to do so when his time upon the mortal ground ended. Giving her the amulet was now having some effect upon his being; either that or physical contact with her had heightened and sharpened his senses. He felt more alive.
“Why?” she asked quietly. “Why must it be you to put things right? Why can we not just forget it all and disappear after we find my sister? Find some place safe, and just be? You haven’t faded yet. Maybe it will take a long time, or it may never happen. Just as Jared found redemption from the damned, maybe you too can be freed from the fate of a faded warrior.”
He exhaled deeply, hearing the yearning in her voice, the need, and the want for things to be different than they were. “Were that possible, it would still be impossible for me to live without honor. I have but these moments to give.”
She didn’t say anything, but twisted to bring her lips to his. When he tasted of her, there was a salty dampness edging her soft mouth that brought a bittersweet ache to his heart. He needed her more than the essence of his own life, and as long as the storm raged, he planned to fill that need as deeply and as greatly as he could.
He filled his palm with her soft breast and teased the tip of it until it hardened beneath his fingers. She pressed closer to him, her back to his chest, so that the swell of her bottom rubbed against his surging flesh, urging him to fit himself more tightly to her.
She arched her back, and his hard arousal slid enticingly along the groove leading to her smooth, heated sex. Groaning, she shifted and brought the hand he had resting on her hip to her sex, showing him just where she wanted his touch. She was wet and warm with her unique scent of woman and desire; the fragrance would forever bring pleasure to his mind and a hot heavy need to his groin. He buried his face in the sweet silk of her long curly hair and thrust inside her heated core. Then, rolling onto his back, he brought her to rest on top of him, spreading her legs wide to give him access to every part of her. Slipping his spirit into hers, he sensed exactly what touch she needed to take them slowly back to the heaven he’d found within her. She responded to his every touch, to his every desire, until there truly was no end to where he existed and she began. They were as one, bringing a completeness to his entire being and a satisfied peace that he’d never known before.
A terrified scream jerked Sam up from his chair. Lightning flashed in quick succession, strobe-lighting the room before the bombing roar of thunder shook the foundation beneath his feet. Momentarily disoriented, he first thought it was his own scream from a flashback until he realized he was at Emerald’s, and it had been a child’s cry. He and Nick were keeping watch. They couldn’t do anything toward finding Annette until the storm passed and dawn came—except pray that she and Aragon showed up.
“Em!” Sam took the stairs three at a time as he raced to Emerald and her daughter, but he wondered if they could even hear him, between the fury of the storm and Megan’s continuing cries. By the time he reached the top step, Em’s daughter had stopped screaming, and Emerald’s soothing burr reached his ears, sultry and soft. It was the same tone she’d used to comfort him after his flashback until he’d trashed her efforts to reach him.
“Meggie. Doona worry. We’re going.”
“They’re coming, Mommy. The red monsters are coming.”
Sam burst into the room. He expected to see Emerald in bed, comforting her daughter. Instead they were both throwing on clothes. Emerald looked his way. “Doona argue. Get Nick, Erin, and Jared. We have to leave now.” She shoved her feet into shoes and slung her purse over her shoulder before she grabbed a blanket off the bed.
“Now, Sam, or we’re vera dead.”
“What in the hell is going on!” Nick called from the bottom of the stairs.
Sam drew a breath, met first Megan’s, then Emerald’s terrified gazes, and dug out his cell phone. “We’re leaving now.” Megan was a miniature version of Emerald, silvery blond, green-eyed, only more petite and delicate. Her tearstained face wrenched him wide open. She shouldn’t be involved in this ugliness, and he half wondered if Megan’s cry was because they were giving her nightmares, and not because she really was having visions of bad things. Even if it was just a bad dream, it was worth leaving just to ease her mind. And hell, he’d seen monsters himself tonight. They hadn’t been red, but the burn on his arm where one of them had incinerated proved it.
Within a minute they were in the car, racing farther up the drive in the pouring rain to get Erin and Jared from Silver Moon, Emerald’s cabin. It was more than
cramped quarters with all six of them in the squad car, but Emerald held Megan in her lap, wrapped up tight in a blanket with the seat belt around them both. Not ideal, but it would have to do for now. They went racing back down the drive and out to the highway. Even with the wipers at full throttle, he could barely see the road. Still, when they flew back by Emerald’s cottage, it looked as dark and quiet as it had when they’d left. Not a red monster in sight.
“We’ll go to the station,” he told everyone. It was the safest place he could think of, and he had access to an arsenal of weapons there as well.
“No, we canna. We’ll only cause people to die,” Emerald said.
Sam clenched his teeth. How in the hell could she say that? He sucked in air. Enough was enough. They’d wanted to leave, he’d gotten them out. And he’d damn well take them to where he could keep them the safest.
Emerald spoke again before he could. “We’re needin’ a place with power, lots of it.”
“That’s the station. I’ve got plenty of firepower.”
“Guns willna do much good against the forces coming,” she said.
Sam opened his mouth, then shut it as he recalled how useless his gun had proven to be on Hades Mountain earlier. Sure, he’d popped off one or two of those hideous creatures, but if the damned things hadn’t hit some supernatural barrier, he would have been eaten alive.
“There’s the electric plant on the road to Arcadia,” Nick said. “This time of night you’ll have power out the wazoo because nobody will be using it.”
“We’re needin’ magic power, no man can make it.”
“The ancients did,” Jared said. “At the Sacred Stones. There are millennia of magic built upon one another there. Enough power to hold back or even destroy evil.”
Sam shot a glance at Jared in the rearview. The Sacred Stones had almost destroyed Jared.
The Lure of the Wolf Page 24