by Sylvia Day
“Please,” she begged, when she couldn’t take another minute.
“Yes.” He gave a fierce, quick suck, and she climaxed with a relieved cry, shuddering violently as the pleasure broke over her in rippling spasms.
As her legs shook and threatened to collapse, Elijah drew her into his lap and urged her to lean against his chest. Her head lolled on his shoulder, his scent filling her nostrils and intoxicating her already floating senses. The feel of him against her back, so solid and warm and strong, made her never want to move. His arms came around her, one hand cupping her breast while the other caught her knee and widened the spread of her legs.
“Guide me,” he whispered against her cheek. “Put me inside you.”
Swallowing past a dry throat, she fisted him in her hand, pumping his cock from root to tip. Once. Twice. Then more. He was so hard, and she was enamored with the feel of him and the effect she had on him. He was rumbling his pleasure in her ear, his chest vibrating against her back. Her hand grew slick with his semen as his excitement built, her own body responding to his hands on her breasts. With practiced skill, he kneaded the heavy flesh, his talented fingers rolling and tugging on the sensitive tips.
“You’re gonna make me come,” he warned, his teeth scraping along the top of her shoulder.
“That’s the goal, isn’t it?”
“If all I wanted was an orgasm, I’d have skipped the long walk across the warehouse and taken the offer I got in the parking lot.”
Her fist tightened on him and he made a noise that was half groan and half laugh. Damn him, he knew she hated how females salivated over him. He was deliberately pushing her in the direction he wanted her to go and she complied anyway. Because she had the right to take what other women could only hope for.
Rising, she gained the height needed to position the wide crest of his cock against her. One deep breath later and she was lowering onto him, her eyes closing as he filled her, stretched her. She was tight in this position, squeezing down on him, making him work to claim her.
His low groan of pleasure was so erotically charged she almost came from the sound of it. It was laced with a whisper of his own surrender, reminding her that they were equally captured by their all-consuming desire. Equally helpless to fight the pull of attraction between them.
With his hands caging her ribs just below her breasts, he controlled the speed and angle of her descent, increasing her awareness of every ragingly aroused inch of him as he possessed her. As she possessed him in return. Her hair fell over his shoulder, and her hips began to circle without volition. Her arms came up and behind her to push her fingers into his thick, dark hair.
“Mmm…” She moaned. “Feels so good.”
“There’s more.”
“Yes…more.” Vash went lax in his arms and let him have his way.
He eased her lower, effortlessly supporting her weight. She wasn’t a small woman. She was tall, with an overabundance of curves. She’d never in her life felt delicate, but Elijah made her feel more feminine than anyone ever had besides Char. It was a feeling she relished—to be something other than a vampire, someone other than Syre’s lieutenant.
Once he was to the hilt in her, he embraced her from behind. His arms reached around her and crossed over her chest. Sweat coated the skin between them, sealing them together. Her thighs splayed along the top of his; his teeth nipped at her shoulder. Inside her, he throbbed. She was utterly claimed. She felt it, even though he didn’t say it.
Elijah reached between her legs, found her exposed clitoris and massaged gently with the pads of two fingers. She climaxed with a breathless cry. His soft growl of satisfaction spurred her hunger, kept her on the edge so that she wanted more. More of him and the way he made her feel.
“I love the way you squeeze me when you’re coming,” he whispered. “You tighten around me…milk me…Do it again.”
Her hands fell to the arms of the chair and she straightened away from him. As her body leaned forward, he pressed even deeper, the sensation so exquisitely sublime she almost came again. She couldn’t explain how or why he was such an aphrodisiac to her, but there was no denying he was. Everything about him was a delight to her senses, keeping her primed and ready.
His lips slid gently over her back, the tender gesture making her throat tighten. “Ride me, Vashti. Fuck me until I can’t take any more.”
She did, starting out the first half-hour slow and easy as she’d promised, relishing his white-knuckled response. She lost herself in the rhythmic flux and flow, in the steady lift and fall of her hips…the in-and-out glide of his body into hers…the rush and ebb of need as she timed her movements to the sounds of his breathing. Slowing when he gasped, quickening when he quieted.
She could have gone on like that forever, but the feel of his fingers between them, circling the base of his cock, brought her scattered mind into focus. He stiffened a moment, then a ferocious orgasm tore through him. He shook so violently, the chair quaked as if rocked by an earthquake, his teeth grinding audibly, the claws of his free hand piercing the solid metal armrests as if they were made of tinfoil. He came long and hard…yet he didn’t. The expected wash of heat never followed.
Oh, no, you don’t, she thought grimly, determined to break his steely control.
Vash took his knowledge and skill, his ability to hold back ejaculating even while he climaxed, as a challenge. He was too contained. Too reasoned. While she’d been damn near insensate with pleasure.
Setting her hands over his, she pinned them down with her weight.
Then, she took him. Not like the first time. Never again like that. This time, she chained him with desire, his and hers, and the delights of her body. She drove him hard and fast, giving him no quarter, forcing him to the precipice at a speed he couldn’t back away from.
“Vashti,” he gasped, then he cursed viciously. Swearing at her, telling her to slow down, hold on, give him a minute.
When he came this time, it was harder than before, his breath heaving from his lungs, his legs straining beneath hers as he shot hotly into her. She felt him go off, relished his shout of her name. Feminine satisfaction pumped through her, kicking off her orgasm to catch the tail end of his.
His arms banded around her, crushing her tightly against him. They succumbed to their desire together.
As the sun rose over the desert sands, Elijah found himself greeting the new day in the best shape of his life. No mean feat, considering he’d been on his deathbed the day before. His wounds had healed without scarring, and his strength was back in spades. Whether that was due to the Sentinel blood pumping through him or the lingering charge from a night spent with a warm and passionate Vashti, he couldn’t say.
Fuck me until I can’t take any more.
Hell if Vashti hadn’t taken him at his word. He’d tried to hold back, tried to make it last. For her sake as well as his. She’d been enjoying him so much, taking her pleasure with unabashed delight, instinct driving her into a primal state of animal need and desire where her body had silenced the doubts and anger in her mind…
“Alpha.”
He looked over his shoulder at Raze, who wore black dress slacks and a gray silk shirt, the quiet elegance of his attire making him almost unrecognizable. Pivoting to catch the mini-duffel the vampire threw at him, Elijah asked, “What’s up?”
“Let’s go. You can change at the airport after we check in.”
Brows raised, he glanced at Syre’s office door. Vashti had disappeared behind it about twenty minutes before, leaving him to get the last few teams on the road while she updated the vampire leader about her personal plans to visit the Huntington post.
“Her orders.” Raze had the decency to refrain from gloating. “She put you with me last night.”
Ah. Now he knew what she’d wanted to talk to him about before desire distracted them, just as he knew she’d changed her mind and planned on heading out to Huntington with him instead.
Shaking his head, he adjus
ted his grip on the bag in his hand and grabbed his shades from the desk. Changed mind or not, they had a few things to work out. She needed to learn that making decisions and giving orders relating to him—relating to them—required both of them. “Let’s roll.”
They walked to the door abreast of each other.
The hell of it was, Elijah understood why she’d want the distance, and he understood that it was the information he’d dug up about Charron’s killers that had altered her plans. If she’d bothered to talk with him about it, he would’ve told her he didn’t care if she was attracted to him for info, sex, or access to the lycans—anything could serve as a foundation for a relationship between them, something he’d decided he had to pursue because he couldn’t keep his hands or his mind off her.
What troubled him was the hour or so they’d spent together after they’d sated their hunger for each other. An hour during which they’d gone over the composition of the teams. An hour during which she hadn’t said a goddamn word about shoving him off on someone else. He’d even asked her point blank what it was she had wanted to talk to him about and she’d evaded the question with a breezy reply.
As Salem had said, they had nothing if she wasn’t going to talk to him.
“Where are we headed?” he asked as they stepped outside.
“Seattle.”
With an earsplitting whistle, Elijah stopped two Jeeps that were pulling out of the lot. He approached the first driver and asked for her team’s orders, then switched them with the team in the car behind them. He tossed Raze’s orders into the mix so that all three teams were reassigned. Then he reminded the lycans that his cell phone number was programmed in their contact lists.
“Don’t hesitate to call me,” he said to each team, “for anything. Even if you just want to talk, I’m here for you.”
As the two SUVs resumed their exit from the lot, Elijah glanced at his new partner. “Now we’re going to Shreveport.”
Which was apropos, since it was Nikki’s abduction from the city that had first brought him to Vash’s attention and vice versa. Micah had been mortally wounded there, tortured by Vash in an effort to glean Elijah’s identity and location.
“You think she’ll come looking for you,” the vamp surmised.
He tossed his duffel in the backseat of the Jeep Raze selected. No reply was necessary, so Elijah didn’t give one.
“You’re holding yourself in high esteem, Alpha.” Raze slid behind the wheel. “But after what she did for you yesterday, I guess you have a right to.”
“Mind your own business,” he warned without heat. “She’s safe with me.”
The vampire pulled out of the lot, leaving a small sand cloud in their wake. “There’s an off chance I might come to like you.”
“I won’t hold my breath.”
“Yeah…I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“We need to get that cooler to Grace.” Vash jerked her chin at the red and white ice chest on Syre’s desk.
He lifted the lid and frowned at the contents. “What’s all this?”
“The stuff we used to transfuse Lindsay’s blood into Elijah.”
Syre’s gaze met hers. “You’re suspicious. Because Adrian sent her instead of a bag of blood?”
“I saw his eyes when I had a knife to her throat. He’d bleed for her and wouldn’t think twice. So why didn’t he?” She paced. “I wish I knew what she’d said to him while I was knocked out in the back of the car.”
“You think she talked him into letting her come. Why?”
“I know she did. And she did it for him, of course. Hasn’t everything she’s done been for him?”
“But wasn’t this as much about the Alpha?”
“Yeah, she came for Elijah, too.” Her hands fisted and she clasped them behind her back to hide the telltale movement. “But that wouldn’t have been enough for Adrian to let her go. There’s something else. After all, what she gave us was pretty much Adrian’s blood, filtered. Why was that acceptable and not the pure stuff? I’m hoping Grace can figure it out.”
Closing the cooler, Syre leaned back against his desk and tracked her movements with his gaze. “Grace is busy researching the Wraith Virus.”
“Then we get someone else. We need more lab rats anyway. Every day that passes, the infection spreads. If we don’t get a lid on this, we’re going to give Adrian the excuse he needs to take us all out. We need to test lycan blood as well. The wraiths were all over Elijah. They completely ignored me and Salem, but ingesting El’s blood killed them. I know we want a cure, but we may not have the luxury of one. We may need to take the infected down for damage control, and if lycan blood is poisonous to them, we should know that.”
“I’ll look into some suitable ‘lab rat’ candidates. As for lycan blood, it could be the touch of demon in them that’s the culprit.”
“Well, there’s an endless supply of demons. If we need to test them, too, I’ll round some up when I get back.”
“You’re heading out?”
She stopped pacing and told him about Elijah’s queries to Adrian.
“And Adrian just gave up this information voluntarily?” Syre crossed his arms. “To the very lycan who’s weakened his position so drastically?”
“I’m sure Lindsay argued on Elijah’s behalf. Again.”
“She’s that close to the Alpha? Is there something between them?”
Vash exhaled harshly. “Friendship. Adrian would’ve killed him if it was anything else. Actually, maybe they’re more like family—siblings or close cousins. She gave up her mortal life to be with Adrian; I can’t imagine she had many close ties to be able to do that so easily. And Elijah…he’s somewhat of a lone wolf. He’s a hands-on leader, but he doesn’t share so much as he supports. What few friends he has are valuable to him.”
He’d kill for them. Was planning on killing her for one of them. That Lindsay was one of the rare and fortunate people to occupy that inner circle in Elijah’s life irritated Vash to no end. Knowing there was nothing romantic involved didn’t stem her irrational jealousy. And thinking about just how much Micah must have meant to Elijah sent acidic surges of guilt through her. She’d learned long ago not to nurse regrets. It was too dangerous to do so when living an endless life. But hurting Elijah as she had…for a crime he’d turned out to be innocent of…it ate at her.
“So you’re taking him with you to Huntington?” Syre asked.
“Yes. I told you my price in the beginning—I’d round him up for you, but I get what I need from him, too.”
His mouth curved. “I haven’t forgotten.”
“I’ll check in and keep you apprised. It shouldn’t take long.” She was eager to get going. Not just to get the task done but to work alongside Elijah. In the tasks they’d tackled together so far, he’d balanced her. Leveled her out. And she’d done the same for him. They worked well together.
It was his more intimate effect on her that knocked her off kilter.
“Be careful, Vashti. And watchful for traps. His authority is still being established, and he’ll be challenged often. I don’t want you caught in the crosshairs. No one wants to see what I’d do if something happened to you.”
She caught his hand and squeezed, grateful for him and his faith in her, something that must have been hard to maintain in the years since Charron died.
Opening the office door, she strode out into an eerily quiet warehouse. Not a soul moved in the cavernous space and while it might have been possible that Elijah was in one of the offices, she knew right away he was gone. She felt the void, and her stomach knotted, a reaction that set off her temper. She wasn’t mad that he’d left—it didn’t take a genius to figure out what must have unfolded while she was distracted—but it infuriated her that it rocked her to find him gone. It stung that he had been able to leave without a fight after she’d struggled with just the thought of it.
Grabbing a set of car keys off the wall rack, Vash was halfway to the door when it opened and the next busl
oad of lycans poured in, brought to her courtesy of Salem, who’d headed out before dawn to pick them up.
“Fuckin’ A.” She was trapped until she and Salem could get the new teams squared away. Elijah had plugged in his suggestions for team compositions that morning, which would save her time, but there was no way she’d catch him before his flight left the ground.
Her anger simmering, she hung the keys back up and got to work.
CHAPTER 13
Elijah knew something was off the moment he turned his rental vehicle onto a residential street in a suburban neighborhood on the outskirts of Shreveport, Louisiana. Although it was early evening, he thought there were too many cars in evidence, especially considering how few lights were on in the homes. When he unfolded from the economy sedan, his sense of unease deepened.
It was too quiet. Almost deathly so. No birds chirping, no dogs barking, no television sets or radios. With his hearing, he should be hearing toilets flushing, people chatting, dinner simmering.
Rolling his shoulders back, he repeated what Lindsay had said when they’d first arrived in Hurricane, Utah, moments before they’d found a nest of wraiths: “This place crawls.”
“Shit.” Raze looked at him over the roof of the car. “I was hoping it was just me.”
“Bound to catch a snag at some point.”
“Thought we’d already done that,” Raze groused.
Elijah grinned. They’d hit the ground running, renting a car at the airport and heading immediately to the home of the vampire who’d first called in a concern to Syre. That visit had introduced them to a very pretty male vamp who went by the name of Minolo. The leggy blond had buzzed them into his UV-blocked apartment and proceeded to serve lemon cookies and tea in floral cups with saucers. Minolo had taken an instant shine to Raze, and over the hour they’d stayed to conduct the interview, the vamp had flirted and fluttered his mascara-coated lashes at Vashti’s captain with warm invitation.