His fingers caressed her arms, trailing down to her hands, gripping tightly. "No, it's not," he insisted. "It’s Elizabeth."
She jerked away and rubbed her hands together. His touch was entirely too cold. "What's the matter with you? Your hands are as cold as ice." Terror danced along her limbs, forcing her to back away from him. If he tried anything, she was damn sure going to lock herself in her bedroom and call the police.
"I've already told you," he said, advancing. "It’s time to sit down and listen to the rest of what I have to say."
Part of her wanted to resist his command yet something told her that perhaps she should sit down and listen. "You've got five minutes then you have to leave. I don't know what kind of stunt you're pulling here."
He held his hands up. "No stunt, I promise you," he offered gently as his hand reached up and caressed her cheek. Despite his icy fingers, she felt the scorching heat of desire as it burned along her body. "Will you trust me for just five minutes?"
Emerald green orbs stared back at her in a plea for understanding. "Five minutes," she snapped and sat down on the sofa, trying to ignore the sensations he brought out in her. It wasn't working. Even his nearness was enough to stir the pot of raw emotion roiling in her.
Raphael lowered himself to the sofa next to her, the loud creak of the brown leather breaking the silence. "I've been a vampire for two hundred and forty years," he confessed, picking up her hand and pressing it to his lips, her skin heating under his kiss. "You were Lady Elizabeth Swanson, the most wanted woman in England. Princes and lords vied for your hand."
She held her hands up, leaping to her feet. "Stop! I don't want to hear any more of this!" she cried, putting distance between Raphael and herself. "Get out of my house!" she ordered, her teeth grinding together. “I want you to stay away from me!”
Raphael's strong hands descended on her arms and spun her around to face him. "I'm not leaving you this way."
Angrily, she walked over to the phone and picked up the black handset. "I'm calling the police. I've had enough of this."
Before she could begin to push the buttons, Raphael waved his hand, somehow forcing the small onyx-colored phone out of her hand. It shattered against the wall, fracturing into a thousand pieces. She glared at him. "Why did you do that?"
The corner of his lips turned up seductively as he closed the distance between them. "We can't begin this way, you know. How should we begin? Where we met or when I was born into darkness?"
"I don't want to hear any more," she protested. "Enough is enough! Anyone with enough reasonable intelligence knows vampires are only myths, not reality!" Her heart raced inside of her, the anxiety building like a fiery furnace. Why was he acting insane?
Raphael clamped onto her hand and brought it to his chest, ripping his shirt open with his free hand. He placed her palm against his perfectly smooth and sculpted yet perceptibly cold skin. "Do you feel anything?"
"What exactly am I supposed to feel?" she snapped, the desire racing up her spine at the feel of his flesh under her fingertips. No, she couldn't be falling for this deranged maniac!
"A heartbeat."
She tried to pull away. "This is nuts."
"Just feel," he whispered to her.
Liz concentrated on her hand, waiting to feel something. A heartbeat or even the quiver of skin. "I don't feel anything," she said slowly, the fingers manacled around her wrist gradually loosening.
"You won't because this heart hasn't beat in over two hundred years," he confessed and strode to the kitchen, picking up a knife.
For a wild moment, she knew she was going to die. "What are you going to do to me, Raphael? Just because I don't believe you...."
"Watch me."
With that, he dragged the tip of the knife across his heavenly chest and parted the skin. Blood poured out of the wound for a brief second. The edges of the injury drew together and became smooth, halting the flow.
"How did you do that?" Her lips quivered with the question as her fingers traveled the site of the cut, finding no evidence of it.
"It's within my power, Elizabeth," he whispered softly into her ear as he bent down, his lips laving a hot path down her neck. "Come, let me show you how we first met."
"How are you going to do that?" she mumbled dreamily against him.
"Take my hand," he commanded.
Like an automaton, she slipped her hand inside of his, and the world became one fast blur.
* * * *
The damned horse had thrown a shoe. Angrily, he'd gotten down, cursing all the while. Why couldn't the people he trusted, not to mention paid good money to, take better care of his animals?
Pulling up the horse's foreleg, he saw the shoe was gone. Dammit! He was going to have to walk the horse all the way back to the manor.
"Did you lose something?" asked a sweet female voice.
He looked up at the most glorious creature he'd ever seen in his life. Golden curls surrounded her face, topped with a black velvet riding hat. Blue eyes stared from beneath fans of long lashes. "Perhaps," he said slowly, dropping the horse's hoof to the ground.
She shifted in her saddle, the soft rustle of her black velvet riding habit rising through the air. "Is there something I can do for you?"
He felt the slam of his heart inside his chest at the sight of her glorious smile. "What do you have in mind, if I might be so bold as to ask?"
The strange woman laughed, a clearly unconventional creature. "Perhaps something beneficial to both of us," she answered as she slipped from her sidesaddle to the ground without his help. Carefully, she strode over to his horse and lifted the foreleg to look at the hoof. "It seems that the blacksmith did not fit this horse properly," she said and dropped the leg. "If you come with me, I think my smith will be able to fit your horse correctly."
"That's not necessary." He studied her face, searching for a name, since he knew most of society.
Taking a cue, she held her hand toward him. "Lady Elizabeth Swanson at your service, Lord Clarendon."
He took it and kissed the ebony glove most gently. "How is it that you know my name and I did not have the pleasure of knowing yours until this moment?"
Her generous smile covered her plump lips. "I make myself known when I wish to be," she offered as she strode over to her cinnamon-hued horse and stepped up on a convenient log to mount the animal. "Follow me and I will show you the way."
Raphael was stunned. Here was the famous Lady Elizabeth Swanson in all her glory. He hadn't realized he was this close to her land.
Gathering the reins in his hands, he followed her soft lope, speaking to her as best he could despite the distance. During that short trip to her manor, he knew he'd fallen in love.
Elizabeth was like no other woman he'd ever met before. According to court gossip, she was a free spirit, wanting to do things her own way. Since her father's death several years before, she'd been under the nominal supervision of an elderly uncle who preferred the comforts of London to Wyndom, leaving her to her own devices. Despite all of the best advice and many offers of marriage, she'd refused them all, choosing instead to follow her own advice.
After a short while, they wound their way through the fields toward a large manor situated near an abundance of rolling green hills. Here the heather grew wildly, peppering the air with its sweet scent. Mingled in with this wonderful perfume was that of wild honeysuckle and roses. Instantly, he knew that aroma would always remind him of her.
The house itself was constructed of old quarried stone. Large windows beckoned, offering a glimpse inside. Some of them were open, allowing the fresh spring breeze in. Delicious smells of roasting meat and baking bread rose through the air, making him hungrier than he'd been in a while.
Elizabeth pulled her horse to a stop in front of the door and dismounted, handing the reins to a waiting groom. She gestured to his mount. “Please take Lord Clarendon's horse to the smith and see to it that it is shod properly."
The groom tipped his tricorn h
at. "Aye, ma'am."
She beckoned. "Follow me," she said as she entered the sumptuous hall. Inside, several servants were waiting to take her coat, hat and gloves. "Give them yours, too," she said softly. He obeyed, his heart beating thundering as desire for this woman boiled to the surface. He'd met her less than an hour ago, yet he was already in love with her. Why?
"Are you hungry?" Elizabeth questioned as she took the pins out of her hair and let the golden locks tumble down past her shoulders in a pale cascade. Her unconventional attitude struck him, encouraging the flames of lust to ride higher. Instinctively, he wanted to reach out and touch the silky strands to see if they were as soft as they looked. Decorum kept him from doing it.
"I honestly couldn’t impose upon you, Lady Elizabeth."
She held her hand up, gesturing for silence. "Please, call me Elizabeth, Lord Clarendon."
"Only if you call me Raphael."
She cocked her head to the side, as if she couldn't believe that was his name. "That is a very unusual name. How did you come by it?"
"My mother was deeply religious and wanted to give me the name of one the Archangels."
Her brows knitted together. "How interesting," she said as she drifted through the dark mahogany paneled hallway. "The dining room is this way."
"I really shouldn't."
"I will not take no for an answer this time, Raphael. Please join me."
He admired her strength and her courage, embracing it to his heart. Why couldn't more women be like her? Strong and independent yet soft and feminine when necessary. "Of course," he answered as he followed her down the hall behind her, the smell of roses filling the house.
* * * *
Liz opened her eyes, the pounding of her heart almost too much to bear. She had felt Elizabeth's every emotion, from the moment she had seen Raphael to the moment they were about to sit down to a meal together. Elizabeth had known who Raphael was for a long time and rejected every suitor so that she would be free to marry him. "That was us?"
"Yes, it was, my beloved Elizabeth," he murmured against her as he bent to pick her up. "Do you believe me now?"
She wound her arms around his neck as she slid into his arms, his strength unbelievable. Confusion sailed through her, mixing in the turbulent sea of emotion. She wanted to believe those were real memories. Unfortunately, part of her rejected the idea.
Dimly, she was aware that Raphael had walked down the hallway to her bedroom. "Where are we going?"
"I've spent two hundred and forty years without tasting you, my love, and I'm not going to wait another minute." He kissed her lips softly as he entered the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. The glow from the streetlight across the street flooded her room and highlighted every plane and muscle exposed by Raphael's open shirt. "You aren't going to deny me again?"
Her drenched cleft convulsed in anticipation as her juices coated the inner walls.
"No, I'm not." She lay there, quivering. She was finally going to lose her virginity and that it was to a man like Raphael was more than she could ever have hoped for.
Raphael closed the door and silently took off his shirt with slow, deliberate movements. His body was a testament to perfection. From the top of his chiseled shoulders to his strong waist and six-pack abs, she couldn’t have asked for more.
She froze as new fear surged through her. She couldn’t let him see her this way! She wasn't skinny or even beautiful, hardly worth taking to bed.
"You are beautiful, despite what you think and more than worthy to take to bed." He lowered himself over her. "You are my Elizabeth."
Liz put her hands against his chest in a weak effort to keep him away from her. “No, Raphael. I can’t do this.”
"Don't worry about being a virgin, Elizabeth. I will have to hurt you. Thankfully, it will be only this one time and then, once you get used to me, it will be nothing except bliss.”
Raphael’s hand slid up her silk-encased thigh and hooked a finger into the elastic of her stocking, peeling the soft fabric away slowly. He did the same with the other, throwing the offending material aside. Wordlessly, he kissed his way up her leg, licking and nibbling. Where was he going? She shivered as he licked up even further, the heat from his lips intensifying. His deft fingers peeled away her underwear and threw the silk panties to the side and returned to his position. Was he going to do something she’d only dreamed about?
Raphael touched her drenched slit and groaned. Her body shuddered from his touch. She felt so good after all these years. Her pussy called to him, her scent rising and inciting the ancient lust inside him. Moving up a bit more, he parted her wet lips and exposed the tender, moist flesh. He touched the edge of her inner lip. Her vagina convulsed in response to his caress. His cock was awash in fresh agony, even more so than at the club. Raphael winced. This was her time and no matter how long he had to suffer, he would make it one night she would never forget.
Elizabeth’s plump, pink clitoris stood at attention, ready to be pleasured. Raphael licked his lips hungrily as he descended on the blood engorged nub. He nibbled and sucked on the tenderness amid Elizabeth’s groans of ecstasy. Her hips shot up, offering more of herself to his powerful kiss. He grinned against her. Who was he to deny her? Back and forth, he pleasured her with flicking motions, making sure the fleshy hood was back in order to give her the best of pleasure.
Liz fisted the covers as Raphael plowed her pussy with abandon, eating her as if his very life depended on it. Her hips lifted and bucked beyond her control as he plunged deeper inside of her, his probing tongue searching her cavern. Raphael’s sliver of delight danced on a spot just behind her clitoris and tapped the area in a vibrating motion. Shudders of orgasmic rhythms shot through her limbs and exploded in her brain. Her own vibrator never brought her even close to anything like this. Oh God! Her climax washed over her with the ferociousness of a tidal wave. She’d never come like this!
Raphael pulled away as she exploded in his mouth, his face saturated with her sweet juice. He licked his lips. Her breath hitched in and out as a cloud of orgasm surrounded her.
“You taste as good as I remember.” He slid over her and unbuttoned her blouse, freeing her breasts from their confines. Thankfully, the bra she was wearing hooked in the front. "How I've missed you," he confessed as he freed her.
"You do, too," she heard herself say, the voice unlike hers, more mysterious and smoky. Where had it come from?
Raphael dipped his head to her pebbled peaks and nibbled their tautness. Liz gasped at the new sensations surging through her. She arched against his mouth, her skin heating almost to boiling point. Her mouth became dry as she continued to gasp at his perfect ministrations, her body begging for more.
Raphael could not have imagined a more perfect moment in his life. Elizabeth was finally his again, the first taking of her body something he'd relished almost two hundred and forty years before. Excitement burned along his lifeless veins. This was his second gift, much like the first.
Her perfumed skin called to him like the finest wine and had the appearance of the softest silk. "I love you, Elizabeth.”
Silently, he waited for her answer. He had wanted her to repeat his sentiment but he really hadn’t expected her to answer. She didn’t disappoint. Her mind was such a confusing mix of emotions that she couldn't even give her name right if asked. In time, she would know everything and he would have the answer he so craved.
Embarrassment rooted itself in Liz. Not only at a statement she had no answer for, it was also the fact she was naked before him. Instinctively, she covered herself with her hands. "Never hide your body from me, Elizabeth," he whispered as he pulled her hands away and urged her into a sitting position. "True beauty such as yours should never be hidden."
Before she could say anything, he’d swiped the remainder of her clothes from her feet and threw them into the corner where they formed an inky black puddle. "Please, I'm not ready."
"You're more ready than you think, Elizabeth." He guided he
r hand to his ramrod-hard cock, ready for her. "Unzip my pants."
A sudden surge of desire overwhelmed her. Accommodating his wishes, the sound of his descending zipper broke the silence of the dimly lit bedroom. Clearly he didn't believe in underwear because he was completely naked underneath. "Touch me," he commanded, guiding her hand to the head.
Gingerly, she touched him, the tip already glistening with moisture. Fascinated, she caressed it with her thumb. The amount of pre-cum swelled. What if she took him into her mouth? She'd always heard the girls in high school and college talking about 'blow jobs' and how fantastic it was to give one. At the time, the thought had repulsed her. Presently, with Raphael’s beautiful organ in front of her, the idea aroused her. Would he allow that sort of thing? Veins crisscrossed underneath the taut skin, as blue as the night sky.
Liz bent her head and took him into her mouth, unsure of what to do. Softly, she rolled her tongue over the head, the saltiness of it surprising her.
Raphael's hands dug into her hair as she took him in deeper, her hands encircling his engorged organ, manipulating it as best she knew how. “Deeper, Elizabeth. I want to fuck your sweet mouth before I fuck your body.”
Liz deep throated him, taking his girth as deep as she could. Her jaws stretched to the limit as her lips wrapped tightly around him, forming a strong barrier. He groaned as he pumped into her mouth slowly. "Do you know long it's been since you've done this, Elizabeth?" he gasped, his hips rocking against her. "Far too long."
Just as she was beginning to enjoy the power surging through her, Raphael pushed her away. Picking her up, he laid her gently on the bed and removed the rest of his clothes, throwing them down with hers.
She was confused. Was it that bad? "Was it something I did?"
His sensual smile lit up the room, making her heart skip several beats. "If I don’t take your body, my cock will explode." He slid under the covers next to her. “I want us to take the magical journey together.”
She'd never felt more wanted her in life. Here Raphael was, wanting her as she was, not as some Barbie doll.
Ranson, Tracy L. - Prince of Night [Bloodborn 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 7