Haunted by the King of Death

by Heaton, Felicity

  She sighed, looked away from him and then back up into his eyes.

  Gods, she was beautiful. Ethereal. Sunlight made her ghostly form shimmer, almost sparkle, and she stole his breath away just as she had the first time she had walked into his life.

  Everything that had happened since she had shown up at the Preux Chevaliers stronghold weeks ago rolled into one fierce barrage of emotion, an onslaught that culminated in the moment she had left him at the mansion. It overwhelmed him and he couldn’t stop himself from speaking.

  “I thought I had lost you,” he whispered, his voice breaking as his throat tightened and he pressed his palm harder against her cheek, filled with a desperate need to reassure himself that she was here with him.

  Tears lined her eyes, but she didn’t look away this time, and the pain that went through her echoed in him, fainter than it should have been.

  The words that fell from her lips answered all the questions that had been building inside him since the mansion.

  “The mage… he…” She lowered her eyes to his chest. “He broke the bond between us.”

  Grave’s world felt as if it was crumbling around him as he struggled to take that in and make sense of it. Hurt went through her again, but his own pain eclipsed it as he tried to breathe, tried to hold back the tide of emotions that surged inside him.

  His hand shook against her cheek and he let it drop away from her, could only stare at her as he weathered the storm and tried to find solid ground.

  She had broken their bond.

  He had spent decades wanting to be free of her, and now that he was, all he could think about was that he wanted her back. He needed her back. He didn’t want to live without her.

  Whatever amount of time he had left in this world, he wanted to spend every second with her. Nothing would give him greater pleasure. Nothing would make him happier.

  Gods, he should have listened when his body, heart and soul had screamed at him that something was different, that his sudden shift into the phantom world had been the product of something more than just their bond fading.

  He stared at her, unsure what to say.

  The reason they were both incorporeal was that their bond was gone, shattered by the mage. Elissa was working on fixing their ghostly state and giving them solid forms again, but the look in Isla’s eyes said that she hadn’t told the witch what she had done, that this was the first time she had confessed the bond was gone and she had chosen to tell him.

  He appreciated that, because for a moment he had thought their problem had turned him incorporeal and he was going to fade, but that wasn’t the case at all.

  “With the bond broken, I’m simply a phantom, correct?”

  She nodded. “I do not think you will fade now, and neither will I. I feel stronger than when we were bound.”

  That offered some relief.

  “I am sorry, Grave.” She looked away from him and sighed. “Once we are corporeal again, I will leave.”

  “No you won’t,” he snapped and took hold of her wrist and pulled her back to face him. She lifted startled eyes to meet his, her fear a palpable thing as her veins ticked quickly beneath his fingers. “You’re not going anywhere. I let you go once, and I do not intend to let you go again. I have spent decades trying to live without you, Isla… I don’t intend to spend another second like that.”

  “But…” she started and he shook his head, silencing her and the doubts filling her eyes.

  “I mean every damn word, Isla. You broke our bond, but I want it back.”

  Her blue eyes widened, beautiful shock flittering across her pretty face, and her lips parted as she searched his eyes. “You really mean that?”

  Grave huffed. “I just said that I meant every word. You know I’m not the sort of man to give a damn about pandering to people or lying to appease them. I have always said things straight, haven’t I?”

  She hesitated and then nodded, and he lifted his hand from her wrist and settled it back against her cheek, and looked deep into her eyes, wanting her to see in his that he did mean every word. He was a man who said things straight, but he was also a man who kept his feelings to himself and it was time he changed that part of himself, because Isla needed to know the love he hid in his heart.

  “I want to be your mate, Isla,” he whispered and skimmed his hand down to her jaw, shifted it under her chin and kept her head tipped up and her eyes fixed on him. Even in her ghostly form, a touch of colour darkened her cheeks, and she tried to look away but he held her firm. “I feel… empty without our bond.”

  “Maybe you just want to be whole again,” she said, a little too quickly for his liking. She was trying to push him away to protect herself, but it wouldn’t work. He had set his sights on her heart and he was a male who always got what he wanted. She sighed. “I want that too.”

  “I don’t give a fuck whether I’m solid or a damned ghost, as long as I have you.”

  Her eyes widened again, and tears lined them as she stared up at him, her lips parted and a ripple of shock going through her.

  He lifted his hand and swept the pad of his thumb under her eyes, brushing away her tears, and whispered, “I really mean that, Isla. I just want you… as my mate… forever.”

  Gods, he stood on a precipice, a terrifying sort where the land below him plummeted sharply, making him feel dizzy and stirring a need to turn back before it was too late and he got himself hurt.

  He sucked down a breath, and rather than stepping backwards, he took the leap, opened himself to someone for the first time in a long time, making himself vulnerable and trusting she wouldn’t use it against him, would treat the heart he was placing into her hands more gently this time.

  “I loved you back then,” he whispered and her eyes went even wider, her heart beating faster in his ears, and she trembled beneath his palm as he caressed her cheek and smiled down at her, thoughts of how he had felt back then and how he felt now warming him and chasing away his fear. “That love never faded. I fooled myself into thinking that it had. I was bitter and angry, but it never faded… because it isn’t the sort of love that wanes over time… Isla… it is the sort that lasts forever.”

  She swallowed hard, her eyes searched his, and then shaky words tumbled from her lips and poured life into his heart. “I never stopped loving you either, Grave. I am sorry for what I did… it started out as a game, a way of getting revenge, but in the end it was real. I fell for you… gods, I really fell for you… there isn’t a part of you I did not love… do not love… I love you with all of my heart.”

  He stepped into her, tipped her head back and pressed his forehead to hers. “Then make things right and mate with me again.”

  “When Elissa finds the spell—”

  He pressed his lips to hers and she tensed and then moaned, leaning into him, tiptoeing and seeking more from him. He broke away from her and breathed hard against her lips.

  “Now… Isla. I will not wait another second for you… I need you to be mine again now… or I fear I will go crazy.” He kissed her again, deeper this time, and she melted so beautifully in his arms, desperately tangling her tongue with his and trembling against him. He forced himself to pull back.

  “But we are phantoms.”

  “I don’t care. I can touch you, Isla… I can feel you.” He smiled, held her face in both of his palms, and looked into her eyes so she could see how serious he was. “Mate with me. Be mine.”

  She blinked and then a slow smile spread across her face and she stole his breath away all over again as she threw her arms around his neck and breathed against his lips.

  “Gods, yes.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Isla couldn’t hold back the moan that burst from her lips as Grave delved between her thighs, his skilled tongue making her legs quiver and belly flutter. She tipped her head back into the pillow on the double bed in the room she had been given in Vampirerotique, her fingers twined tightly in Grave’s dark hair, holding him in place as he drove her w
ild, teased and tortured her until she felt as if she was going to burst.

  She writhed her legs, unable to keep still, and he growled, the rumbling sound sending a tremor through her as it vibrated against her tight bundle of nerves. Another moan escaped her, louder this time, pulling a deep groan of male satisfaction from her vampire.

  Phantom.

  Whatever he was now.

  She didn’t care which it was, he was still Grave, could still drive her mad with little effort on his part, knew exactly the right place to lick or breathe upon, or tease with his fangs.

  A shudder wracked her as he delved lower, tongue probing her core, and her legs tensed, pressed against the sides of his head. He loosed another growl, hooked his hands over her thighs, and pulled them apart. He used them as leverage at the same time, a way of anchoring himself in place as he pushed her closer to the edge, making it impossible to shove him away.

  Her belly heated, fire the temperature of a volcano’s molten core blazing there, and she strained for more, rocked her hips against his face and rode his tongue as he thrust it into her, mimicking sex, fuelling the fantasy building in her mind.

  The desperate and wild need.

  “Grave,” she murmured, voice throaty and deep, echoing that need.

  He groaned and licked her harder, pressed his tongue against her nub and stroked it fiercely as it clenched and unclenched.

  She twisted his hair tighter between her fingers and raised her hips, lost in the moment, consumed by her impending release, thrust beyond all control into a wild state where only feeling existed and the only thing that mattered was sating the need to climax.

  Grave wrapped his lips around her bundle of nerves and gave a hard suck.

  Isla cried out, hips jacking up. Stars sparkled and leaped through every inch of her, shattering her awareness of the world and replacing it with a swift blinding light and heat that travelled through her, flowing back and forth along her trembling limbs.

  Dear gods.

  She had been with males in her phantom form before, but none of them could compare with Grave. Being with him in her physical form had been exhilarating enough, but in her phantom form every inch of her was more sensitive, and as she sagged and struggled for air, she had the feeling he knew it and knew exactly how to take advantage of it to bring her to shattering releases that had her thinking twice about wanting a corporeal form again.

  If Grave could make being a phantom this exciting and thrilling, could make her feel this much, then maybe she wouldn’t be sad if Elissa couldn’t find a way of making her corporeal again.

  Grave kissed along her thigh and she wriggled as it tickled, just as it would if her form was solid.

  If his form was solid.

  That thought sobered her up, made the residual bliss from her climax fade away. It wasn’t only her body on the line. If Elissa couldn’t find the right spell, Grave would remain incorporeal too, and she still wasn’t one hundred percent certain that mating would stop them from eventually fading. She wanted to be certain, and that meant finding the spell, and gaining a physical form again, together with Grave.

  He didn’t belong in her world.

  Her beautiful, noble and deadly vampire belonged in his world, one where he led his Preux Chevaliers that were so important to him and could be part of his family again, the same as them. She wanted to go to that world with him. He was her family now, together with Frey.

  Grave shattered all thoughts of other males as he kissed up her belly, his sides brushing between her thighs, and she moaned as he reached her breasts. He tugged the corset of her white dress down, exposing her nipples, just as he had back in the inn.

  He stilled, lifted his head and frowned down at her. “What is wrong?”

  She tried to smile. “I keep thinking about when we have been together in a more… physical way.”

  His pale blue eyes softened, but the hunger steadily building in them didn’t go anywhere. It only grew as he raked his gaze over her, his pupils dilating as he took in her ghostly body.

  “It does not feel any different to me.” He lifted his eyes back to her and the sincerity in them touched her.

  She wanted to feel that way too, wanted to believe he didn’t care that he was a phantom now even when she knew that he found it strange and disconcerting.

  “I miss the leather though,” he whispered and lowered his head, teased her breasts with his lips, his breath cool against her skin.

  It was strange to feel that, to feel anything so strongly when in her phantom form. Maybe it was because it was Grave. She knew the feel of him so well, the way his breath felt on her skin, his lips on her flesh, and his body under her hands, that the memory was enough to boost what she felt in her phantom form, bringing it close to how it had been when she had been solid.

  “At least your clothes do not change when you are phantom.” She tugged at his shirt, pulling him up to her so she could kiss him.

  His lips claimed hers before she could seize them, and she moaned into his mouth as he kissed her, delved his tongue between her lips and battled hers for dominance.

  Something else that was new. Normally when she did anything with males while in her phantom form, she was the one in control, always in control, taking what she needed from them and then discarding them.

  Perhaps it was more than just how well she knew Grave that made it different this time. Maybe it was her time in a corporeal form that had changed her, had altered her to her very core, and was responsible for how differently she thought about things and approached them now. She wouldn’t dream of using a male as she had before now, wouldn’t be able to do such a thing, knowing that she was condemning them to a life as a phantom, using them and destroying their lives.

  “Come back,” Grave whispered against her lips and she realised she had gone still beneath him. He sighed, smoothed his hand across her brow and over her hair, and rested on his other elbow, propping himself up above her. She looked up into his eyes and found them soft and warm, laced with the love she now knew for certain he held in his heart for her. “You keep drifting away.”

  “I am sorry.” She smiled and pushed her sombre thoughts aside. “Thinking about my past… when I should be thinking about my future.”

  He smiled back at her, and she couldn’t breathe as she looked up at him, caught up in how beautiful he was.

  “Gods, I love you,” she whispered without thinking, the words escaping her lips before she could consider what she was saying.

  She had never said those words to him before.

  The soft look in his eyes turned to one of shock, and then something that resembled happiness, and his lips were back on hers, stealing her heart in a kiss that was so warm and tender that she wanted to cry.

  She tore at his shirt, the desperate need that he had quelled building again as he kissed her, as she thought about how much she loved him and how much he wanted to be her mate again. She wanted that too. She needed it with all of her heart.

  When the buttons of his ghostly shirt refused to give under her trembling fingers, she let loose a snarl of frustration and yanked the two sides apart, spraying buttons everywhere.

  Grave arched an eyebrow at her. “That was my only shirt.”

  “I will make it up to you.” She slid her hands between the two sides of his shirt and he groaned as she skimmed her palms over his hard pectorals and up to his shoulders, pushing the shirt off them. “Besides, it will be whole again by the time I am done with you. Phantom clothing repairs itself.”

  Because it was the only damned thing they could wear. She had ripped her dress a thousand times, but it always became perfect again in a matter of hours, slowly repairing itself before her eyes. She hated her drab white dress with a fierce passion, but it was part of her and she couldn’t shed it or replace it with anything else, just as Grave’s clothes were a part of him now.

  He sat back and shrugged off his shirt, and Isla followed him as her gaze caught on the pendant around his neck and
sat up on the bed.

  “Why did you keep it?” She took hold of the delicate silver knot and lightly brushed her thumb over it, feeling the pattern, every intricate line of it, a ribbon of love and protection that had no end, was infinite, just like her feelings for the male she had given it to.

  He looked down at the pendant, the hunger that had been building in his eyes abating again as he studied the knot, and then up into her eyes. “Because I love you.”

  Those were the words she had needed to hear. They melted her heart, the one that belonged to him, and she slid her hands over his muscular shoulders and drew him to her again, caught his lips in a kiss she hoped conveyed just how much those words meant to her.

  How much he meant to her.

  When he leaned into the kiss, she used his position against him, easily rolling him onto his back when his weight was off centre. He grunted as he landed on his back beneath her, but didn’t fight her as she kissed him, her tongue tangling with his before she stroked his fangs with it, running the tip down the length of one.

  He shuddered and moaned, clutched her backside through her dress and gripped it tightly.

  Isla kept up her teasing, mercilessly driving him to the edge of reason, to the point where she knew he would lose control again. When he was close to it, she eased off and kissed down his jaw, following the strong line to his neck and from there charting a familiar path down his throat to his shoulder.

  He moaned as she kissed a trail across his hard pectorals, following the line of one scar as it darted from the top of his pectoral near his right shoulder across the valley between them, to end near his left nipple. When she reached it, she swirled her tongue around the small bud, teasing it to hardness, and then gave it a brief, hard suck. He grunted again, fisted his hands in the material of her skirt and trembled.

  She loved it when her powerful, deadly vampire shook as he was now, at her mercy, compliant when he was usually defiant, a slave when he normally ruled.

  Her King of Death.

  He shuddered, another moan escaping him as she trailed her lips lower, over the ridges of his stomach to the sensual dip of his navel. She looked up the length of him and couldn’t stop herself from trembling too.