Passion Bites: Biting Love, Book 9

by Mary Hughes

  “Feels like you’ve recovered,” I murmured.

  “You too,” he murmured back.

  Sleepy sex is slow and gentle at first. There was no need for foreplay. It had come throughout sleep, as we turned in unison from one side to the other, always pressed skin to skin. As my nipples brushed his muscled back, as the hair of his thighs rubbed the back of mine.

  “I feel better.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder, breath warm. “You?”

  “Better. Mmm, that’s better yet.”

  “Then I’ll keep doing it.”

  “Good. Do this too.” I tilted my hips back and slotted the head of his cock in my pussy, already warm and wet and soft from sleep, from dreams.

  He made a small hungry noise. One hand glided down my flank to anchor my hip. Slowly, ever so teasingly, he slid inside me.

  I hummed low in my throat, pleasure shimmering through me like a hot summer day.

  “You like?”

  “Oh yes. You?”

  “Very much.” Slow, almost lazy, he began to move behind me. Inside me.

  My interest built with each thrust, first tiny sparks of mmm, then little bursts of ahh, then harder, deeper oh yeahs, until I started pushing back with almost as much strength as he drove in.

  We moved together, faster now, through the kaleidoscope of ever-changing energies. Coiling desire, relaxing for a moment then spiraling tighter. He reached around and pressed a warm finger into my cleft, unerringly finding the swelling center.

  I mewled.

  “More?”

  I had no words, only urgent, half-formed sounds. Still he heard, understood, slicking his finger along my aching clit. Rocking himself into me, over and over, pushing me toward the pinnacle until I was about to go over.

  He grabbed my hips with both hands and thrust soul-deep.

  Desire burst. I arched against him. He held me tight, murmuring love words as I exploded again and again and yet again.

  When it died down to aftershocks, I realized he was still hard and thick and rigid inside me.

  “You.” I squeezed internal muscles. His arms around me tightened in reaction. “You,” I said again, squeezing harder. “Now.”

  Maybe I had learned a bit of vampire voice, or maybe it was reinforcing the words with decathlon-caliber Kegels, but his fingers tightened spasmodically and he threw back his head and hissed, juddering into me so hard I could feel his testicles contract. The tugging sent me into another small series of after explosions. I squeezed him in time with his contractions, to reinforce them.

  He cried my name in a choked voice.

  Eventually he relaxed his grip on my hips. His arms came around me, holding me to him. He pressed a kiss to my shoulder, like the beginning, only now my skin was damp under his lips. “Sorry,” he murmured. “That got a little rough.”

  “You always say that. And I always say I’m not sorry.” I smiled and relaxed against him. Having done so well with Lizelle, I tried a little emotional honesty. “Because, rough or gentle, I simply like being close to you.”

  Maybe I hoped he’d say something touchy-feely in return, like “I like to be close to you too” or “I’d like to get closer” or even “I’m falling in love…”

  But Luke said nothing.

  Instead he rolled to his feet with a sigh and started pulling together clothes. “We’d better get you some food.”

  I understood intellectually he was suggesting food as an avoidance. An evasion mechanism, a game that, once we’d started it, would play out each time we got near the subject of closeness and connection.

  My newfound tentative emotions told me he and I were on a cusp. If we didn’t talk it through, if I went to eat now, that’d be it—there’d never be an “us”.

  Oh, sure, there’d be more sex. But the nascent connection I’d found with him? It had taken nearly losing both our lives for him to open up as much as he had.

  Unless I wanted to risk death on a regular basis, we might never connect again, not at that basic level.

  We’d gone through so much to get here. His shutting down and starting to walk away was more than I could bear. Pain tightened my throat, my lungs, made my eyes prick.

  “You…” My voice sounded thick to my ears but I forced myself to continue. “You don’t want to talk?”

  “Not right now, not really. Don’t you want to eat?”

  Not at all. My stomach churned so bad I wanted to vomit. Unless I did something right in the next minute, this was it. Game over. Connection broken. Luke as gone as if he’d burned under Luther’s UV lights. Pain skewered me, like a physical sword through my chest.

  People talk about closed doors and open windows and never getting shipped more than you can handle.

  But the truth is, sometimes life is shit hitting the fan, and sometimes you’re standing in front of it and no window or door appears and life laughs.

  People break; I broke once when my only friend Lizelle walked out of my life.

  I was breaking now too. Or my heart was—I’d kept myself away from emotions for so long I couldn’t tell.

  I had to do something. But what? I wanted a union like my parents had, two people, connecting at the soul level. But Luke…he wasn’t ever going to forget his wife.

  Adelaide. I was briefly jealous of a woman who’d been dead for three hundred years; who, from Luke’s story, had barely lived before she was gone.

  They weren’t mates, but she had a death grip on Luke’s heart, the heart I wanted for myself.

  My jealousy burned into rage. Couldn’t he see I loved him more than her?

  I love him?

  Lizelle had told me he was the one. The one person who would always love me and always have my back. The kind of passion only unlocked by one other soul.

  But how could he be my one, when he’d already surrendered his heart to Adelaide?

  Pain, fear, jealousy, rage. Passion. Emotions that I normally either thrust away, or stood in paralysis while they overwhelmed me.

  Now I did neither. I recognized them. I acknowledged them. And then…then I simply let go.

  Slowly, I released my hurt, my rage. My eyes stung with tears as I let go of my passion for him. But I did it because I’d never replace her in his heart.

  And then I thought “Why?” Why was I trying to replace her? I remembered Luke telling me he loved my face’s lines, my lowered breasts, because they were part of the journey that made me.

  That centuries-long love, that constancy, was what made him Luke.

  His heart was perfect the way it was, broken, Adelaide holding a piece forever.

  Kintsugi. In that moment I saw my way clear to sharing in his life, every bit of it, and a joy burned away my tears, so immense it could only be called true passion.

  “Before I go get food…first, I want to thank you.”

  He turned, clothes in his capable hands. “For what?”

  “For showing me another way.”

  “I don’t understand.” He slowly sat on the bed, not next to me, but not far.

  Hope loosened my lungs. “I learned from Lizelle that a change of plans leads to disaster. To events I wasn’t prepared for, not physically and most important, not emotionally. But you showed me another way. You showed me not to push the emotions away nor to let them overrun me, but to acknowledge them and use them to find the right path.”

  As I went along I realized I—my heart—was opening up to him, and that it was good. Because if I didn’t get this right, before he walked out of my life forever, I wanted him to know me, the real me, all of me.

  Who knew? Maybe he’d love the real me.

  “During our escape, you showed me that planning is good for identifying problems and brainstorming solutions—but plans aren’t an end in themselves. Plans change, even goals change. The planning is important, not the plan.”


  “What does that have to do with food?”

  “Planning is learning, understanding the goal. A plan is only one way to achieve that goal.

  “For example, I made a plan—the Grand Plan—to give Lizelle a better life. That plan’s gone, but you made me see I can find other ways to help her. Better yet, I’ll find a way to help her help herself.” Something freed inside me at that. I knew all along that Lizelle wasn’t weak, but she had been vulnerable to Umbras, and he’d taken all her resources from her. I’d tried to make up for that, to be the resources Lizelle needed. But that wasn’t healthy for either of us, not in the long run. So now I’d help her, but I’d also have to learn to trust her, that she could be some of her own resources—she’d do it for her daughter. Like Luke, I didn’t have to be a superhero.

  “A way? That still sounds like one plan.”

  “One plan, or two plans or whatever she needs.”

  His gaze was on the far wall. “And if all your plans fail?” He said it so softly I knew this was the crux.

  “That’s part of a person’s history, isn’t it? Part of your growth. Part of working toward whatever objectives you can, as you can, and trying to be happy along the way.” I took his hands. Here was my crux. “Luke, I had a plan, to help Lizelle and Una and others like them, by buying those townhouses next to a master vampire. But frankly, it makes more sense for Julian to have them.”

  “So you’ve changed your goal.”

  “Not completely. I still want to open a shelter, and I still want it near a master vampire. But wouldn’t it be better, instead of living next to a master vampire, if we could live with one?”

  A beat. “What do you mean?” He searched my eyes. He knew.

  But saying the words were important. “I want you to be that master vampire. Marry me. Found a household with me. Your household won’t be part of the shelter but annexed to it—”

  “Alexis, no.” He looked away. “I’m not ready to establish a household. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

  I sat there, his hands in mine, as his words hollowed out my chest.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Luke couldn’t look into Alexis’s beautiful, pleading eyes, as he said no.

  Him, found a household? He not only wasn’t ready, he’d never be ready. He could never be certain he could protect his humans…

  Except he had with Alexis, only last night. He could protect his humans when they helped protect themselves.

  Marry me. Found a household with me.

  Brave words. Because with them, she’d bared her heart to him.

  He knew. He just didn’t want to be responsible for breaking it.

  He’d never understood Liese and Nixie and Elena’s need to remain independent, but he’d finally seen in Alexis’s eyes that it was important to her, as important as blood was to him.

  And now, as her honesty and bravery took his breath away, he understood why.

  She’d taken a huge risk in baring her heart. But she’d done it because it was her heart to bare. Hers to risk.

  Her life was hers to risk.

  If she were his wife, it would be his privilege to protect her—but it was her own life. Coddling said it was his. It would take away her rights, erode her bravery, her fierce independence.

  He could defend her if she wanted it, but only if she wanted it. Because it was her life, not his.

  But she deserved more than half a partner. “If it weren’t for Adelaide’s being my mate—”

  “Adelaide wasn’t your mate,” she said. “Not according to Elias.”

  He stopped breathing. “What do you mean?”

  “When he wanted to speak with me alone, he told me vampires mate for life. If your mate is dead, so are you. Adelaide is dead, you aren’t, ergo…”

  His breath came back, rapid and shallow. “I…I’m not mated?”

  “Elias said the mating lock has to be on both sides.”

  “But I felt mated.” He stood on the edge of a whole canyon of doubt, on crumbling footing. Down was a long fall with a harsh ending. But if he leaped off in hope, it might also be just possible to fly…

  “Well, if I’m getting this right, you might have locked on her, but apparently she didn’t lock on you.”

  He sat a moment in thunderstruck silence. Then he whispered, “She never looked at me, after lovemaking. I’d wondered…” He shook his head, awe and joy and fear crashing inside him. “I can’t take it in. If I wasn’t mated to Adelaide, I could marry…have a family…fall in love…”

  His privilege to live with Alexis forever, if he were her mate. His heart beat harder with the thought.

  Could he? He took a shaking breath, mentally tensing to push off on that flight of hope…

  I can do it. He could found his own household, as Elias had been urging him to do. Found it with Alexis, his love, his mate…

  Like Adelaide?

  Hope died, crushed by the past. He’d forgotten her again. Forgotten Adelaide. He shook his head. “I still can’t.”

  He’d whispered it, barely above silence, more as if his heart cried it softly.

  “Can’t?” Alexis said, her voice sounding far away. “Why not?”

  “I can’t fail her.”

  His gaze came back to Alexis, expecting to see a very natural anger or jealousy or hurt at his rejection.

  Instead he fell into a blue sea of understanding.

  “Luke. My love, listen to me very carefully. I’m not trying to take Adelaide’s place. Not anymore.” She put her slender, warm palm against his chest. “I’m not even trying to heal you into forgetting her.”

  He gazed down at her hand, the one she’d injured to save his life. His heart beat a little harder against it. “You’re not?”

  “No. It’s right that you remember her. You loved her, Luke—a part of you still does, or it wouldn’t have been true love. You gave her a piece of your heart, and when she died, she took it with her. That hole is proof of your love. That piece is with her. That’s good, right.”

  He swallowed hard. He’d never thought of it that way. “If you’re not trying to replace her or heal my heart, then what do you want?”

  “Kintsugi.”

  “What?”

  “You told me about the Japanese art of fixing broken pottery, not to disguise the fact that it’s broken, but to celebrate it. To show off the fact that it’s survived, adorning the cracks with precious metal to make its broken history even more beautiful.”

  “I remember.”

  “Luke, you have a hole in your heart. I’m not trying to plug it—but it’s still weeping blood. You’re so sad.” She lifted her hand from his heart to cup his face. “You loved her and still love her. But you never talk about her. You try not to think about her—because your most powerful memories are of her death. What I want to do, what I’m hoping I’ll have a lifetime to do, is help you remember the good times. Help your memories around her be happier. In fact, I’ll help you remember her better.”

  “Remember her…better?” He couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat. “Everyone tells me to get over her. Get past her.”

  She nodded. “That’s sensible. ‘Live in the present, not in the past’—good advice except for those who matter most.”

  His chest froze. “She mattered.”

  “She did.” Alexis’s eyes were full of love and understanding. “What was good about her? Celebrate that. Celebrate your love, Luke. I’m not trying to take her place. I’m trying to be the person who helps you remember her. If I’m ever going to share your life, that includes the part that belongs to her. So I want to heal her memory, learn to love her through you—and maybe help you laugh again.”

  The lump in his throat…it was his full heart. He cupped her face in turn. “Whatever happens, I want you to know—I love you, Alexis.”


  She smiled into his eyes. “I love you too. Every bit of you, even and especially that hole in your heart, because it makes you, you. Because you loved her so completely you gave her a piece of yourself. I want that, with you. I want that depth of love.”

  It had started with passion’s bite, but as he gazed at her, he saw the truth of it reflected in her eyes. That his heart was missing a piece, Adelaide’s piece.

  Yet he could offer Alexis his heart, knowing it wasn’t whole. That it never could be. Because she’d accept it anyway.

  “Yes. We’ll marry, found a household—if you’ll have me.”

  “Together.” She took his face in both hands. Cradling his face and his heart in her hands, those healer’s hands, she kissed him.

  And then she spoke the words of a healer, not filling in his heart’s hole, but easing the pain of three hundred years.

  “We’ll remember her, together. We’ll found a household and a shelter. And we’ll call the shelter Adelaide’s Heart.”

  It was perfect and right. He stared into her beautiful eyes and she into his, and he offered to her his heart—broken, but in her eyes even more beautiful because of it.

  She smiled, wordlessly giving him her heart in return.

  And forever locked into place at last.

  About the Author

  As a girl, I spun romantic, happily-ever-after stories to get to sleep. A husband, a family, two degrees and a black belt later, I’m delighted to spin them for readers.

  I’ve lived with love and loss, in bright times and dark, and learned we can all use a break from reality every now and then.

  So join me for action, sparkling humor and red-hot love. Strong men. Stronger women. Hugs!

  ~Mary

  I’d love to hear from you! Write me at mary@maryhughesbooks.com.

  Or visit me online!

  Website: www.maryhughesbooks.com

  Facebook: MaryHughesAuthor

  Twitter: @MaryHughesBooks

  Look for these titles by Mary Hughes

  Now Available:

  Biting Love

  Bite My Fire