by Jess Haines
A touch of fright returned, but it didn’t last long. Once the fabric was in a pile, forgotten by the side of the bed, he reached for my wrist to place my hand on the buttons near his shirt collar. I got the idea quick enough, returning the favor with shaking fingers.
Then a better idea struck, one I’d had earlier, and I inched forward. Gripping his shirt, I pulled him a bit closer and leaned in to bite the buttons off, one by one, working my way down. A pleased growl and his hands buried in my hair made it clear that he liked my plan. Very much.
The moment the last one was gone, he growled out a husky command.
“On the bed. Now.”
The deep rumble of his voice slid over my skin like a touch, making me shiver. I hurried over, feeling his eyes on me as I swung my legs up and sank into the feather-soft mattress. It was a little unexpected after my last experience in his bed—or, more accurately, his hard-as-a-rock futon—but not unappreciated.
He was still undressing, taking his time. Shrugging out of the gaping, buttonless shirt, he tossed it onto the growing pile on the floor, soon followed by his pants and boxers. When I met his gaze from across the room, I didn’t flinch from the embers of red in the depths of his eyes, hinting at the animal hunger inside. Once the last piece of clothing was gone, discarded and forgotten in a pile on the floor, he stalked over to me, magnificently naked.
Like me, he was flawed, his skin crisscrossed with scars. On me, it was a train wreck. On him, it was a brutal reminder of the savage life he had lived, first as a slave, then later forced to become a soldier in the army Alexander the Great led on to conquer Greece, Egypt, and the Persian Empire. There was something primal and sexy about those marks from failed attempts on his life etched all over his body. Dangerous. Hinting at the contained violence he was capable of unleashing.
He pulled me to him in a quick, demanding kiss, fingers tangling in my hair to hold me in place. Not that I would have pulled away, but the possessiveness of it sent a brief pang of anxiety through me. It was more remembered brutality from Max rather than fear of Royce, but he must have sensed something. He withdrew, eyes narrowing as he looked me over, head to toe. A few cuts, a few bruises, and, oh, let us not forget the shiny new scar from the brand on my hip.
With one hand buried in the curls on my head, he slid a fingertip from the other hand over the brand, tracing the pattern there as the red in his eyes grew. There was a hint of fang behind his words, though his voice remained steady.
“Lifetimes would not be enough time for me to express how sorry I am. If I had any inkling—”
I put a fingertip to his lips, cutting him off. “Don’t. This was Max’s doing. Not yours.”
His teeth grazed my skin, lightly nipping the digit I’d shushed him with. “I should never have sent you away.”
“Regrets won’t change it, Alec. It’s done. He’s dead. I’m not going anywhere.”
Those seeking lips and teeth grazed my skin, working their way along my shoulder and collarbone, finding the familiar spot that nearly made me come off the bed. Panting, I lay back as he crept over me, slow and deliberate, refamiliarizing himself with all the places that made me burn for him. It would have been terrifying if it wasn’t so damned sexy.
As much as I wanted to forget about Max, my desire waxed and waned as flashes of memories of where the psycho fucker had touched and bruised and scarred me popped into my head every time Royce inadvertently brushed against the marks left behind. Which was unspeakably frustrating considering how badly I needed to forget and how much I wanted to live in the moment.
With a low sigh, Royce stopped what he was doing and adjusted his position. Once he was situated on his elbows above me, for the first time, I noticed the lines of sorrow and regret etched in his face. I placed a hand lightly against his cheek, my thumb stroking the crinkles by his eyes.
“Alec, I’m sorry, too,” I said, cutting him off before he could speak. Both of his brows shot up, some of the concern fading. “If it wasn’t for a bunch of stupid, terrible decisions on my part, none of this would have happened. I’m sorry you’re always cleaning up after my messes. I’m sorry I’m a goddamn nutcase, and that you have to put up with me. I wish I could just box up all my crazy and be a normal person and stop worrying all the damned time—but if I’m not worrying you’re going to eat me, then I’m worrying you’re going to mess with my head, or do something vampirey and evil, or wake up and realize that I’m nothing special. Even when I want to rip your clothes off—”
He leaned in, swallowing my ranty protests with a kiss. He kept it up until I stopped mumbling against his lips, then withdrew just enough to make sure he had my full attention.
“Shiarra, as much as I would like you to go on about that part involving ripping off my clothes, I don’t want to hear any more of this business about me doing something to hurt or abandon you. Yes, sending you away was a terrible idea, but I wanted you safe from the White Hats, from the police, and from the war and the werewolves destroying my property. Not to mention a very selfish part of me hoped that the vampire blood in your veins would burn away the Were while you were away from the Sunstrikers’ influence.”
I squirmed a bit to get out from beneath him, moving closer to the headboard so I could grab a pillow to hug to my chest. He frowned, but didn’t try to stop me, only edging closer so he could settle in the pillows beside me.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I know we’ve been over this before, but my head is like a goddamn hamster wheel, spinning around the same crap over and over again. After what I just went through, it’s even harder to let it go.”
He set a hand on my upper thigh, lightly running his fingertips over my skin. His gaze stayed firmly focused on where his hand rested rather than looking me in the eye.
“Your worry is perfectly understandable. Had you not been taken by Max, it would still be forgivable for you to suffer some trepidation considering how little you know of me or my motivations.”
That said, he tilted his head, studying my face as his hand on my leg stilled. The intensity of his depthless black gaze was a bit unnerving, truth be told.
“I want to be worthy of your trust. I want to earn it. You have no idea how pathetic I felt, sending you away, missing you and worrying that you wouldn’t want to come back to me. Being afraid that you wouldn’t miss me, too. Me, the Master of New York, pining like a fool,” he said, with a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “All these years spent building a kingdom around a reputation for being the most ruthless, unfeeling, vicious monster in the country, and all it took to rip away that mask was a scared little girl—a frightened mortal who is braver than she’ll ever admit to herself or anyone else—reminding me of the value of freedom and mercy.”
He slid his hand into mine, pulling it to his lips so he could brush a kiss over my knuckles. Speechless, I watched his actions, but didn’t move, trying to process what he had to say.
“If you need more time, you need only say the word. You have tamed the savage beast, little hunter. I am yours to command.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
I thought about it, considering the power that admission gave me over him.
“You know, I’m tired of being scared. I want to trust you. I don’t want to be afraid of you. Not even a little bit. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let my fears or memories of someone else ruin my life. I guess what I’m getting at is just ... be patient with me for a little bit longer while I get my shit together. Please.”
He laughed, patting my leg. “So eloquent. Yes, I can be patient for you. Would you rather sleep alone tonight? I’ll understand if you need more time.”
I sat up straighter, clutching the pillow tighter as my gaze wandered over his sprawled, naked frame, lingering a bit too long at the unmistakable evidence of his arousal. He was all coiled grace and muscle, ready to spring into action if I gave him the word. Yet he was perfectly willing to leash that desire, just for me, to wait as long as I needed to get myself together. It wasn’t fai
r to make him wait. Not to him, and not to me.
I wanted him. I wanted him so badly I ached. And I wasn’t going to let the ghost of phobias past stop me from having him.
“Alec,” I said, tossing the pillow aside so I could crawl on top of him, with a lot less grace than the vampire, “we’re starting over. Right now. Right this minute. We’re making this better. I’m making this better. I’m having my happily ever after, damn it, and if you stop me, so help me God, I will ... I’ll . . . I don’t know what I’ll do, but it won’t be pretty.”
This time, his laughter was a bit more hearty, and maybe a bit relieved. He rolled onto his back, his hands settling at my waist as he grinned up at me. “As my lady commands. By all means, have your way with me.”
Last time we’d spent the night together, he had made it a point to get to know every part of me. Exploring every inch of my body, learning exactly where to touch me to make me into a quivering mess. Now, it was my turn.
I ran a finger down his chest, tracing the curvature of every scar, bone, and muscle, familiarizing myself with his skin. His own hands slid down to my ass, kneading lightly, but otherwise doing nothing to distract me from the task at hand. I got the idea he knew what I wanted.
He hissed softly when I leaned down and traced the same paths with my tongue. His grip on me tightened when I bit his nipple, my fingers tweaking the other, mimicking the light pinch of my teeth. His skin was cool and satiny under my touch, intriguing rather than putting me off.
“Naughty,” he whispered, and I grinned, glancing up to waggle my brows at him. His laugh faded into a groan as I ground my hips against him to let him know he wasn’t the only one turned on right now.
Inching my way down his body, I kissed and licked and nipped my way along the trail of dark hair leading to the juncture of his thighs. His fingers slid up my sides and along my ribs to tangle in my hair, and I’ll admit I took a bit too much enjoyment being the one with the power this time around. This close, his scent, musky and male, made it easy to sink into the moment and forget about all the things that had me worried before.
Even an ancient vampire could only take so much. As his growl took on a deeper edge, his absent shifting growing impatient with the feel of my breath on the most sensitive of skin, I took him into my mouth. Like velvet ice, cool and slick against my tongue. His back arched, just a bit, the low sound he made filling me with a delicious warmth at knowing that I was the one responsible for dragging that reaction out of him.
Judging by the rhythmic way his fingers tightened by my scalp, he was enjoying the hell out of this. When I tilted my head just a bit so I could catch a glimpse of his face, the hint of vermillion in his eyes and carnal twist of his lips, exposing his fangs, sent a thrill down my spine.
When the muscles in his abdomen began to tighten, I gasped as I found myself on my back, him looming over me, no freaking clue how it had happened. He must have moved like lightning, shoving me into the bedding. His ragged—and entirely unnecessary—breathing told me better than anything else that I hadn’t lost my touch.
“That,” he said, breathless and lisping very slightly around fangs, “was delightful, but unless you wish to risk being bound again, best not to finish that way.”
Once my heart worked its way out of my throat and back down in my chest where it belonged, I wrinkled my nose as the meaning of his words hit me. “Okay, ew. Talk about a mood killer.”
He ducked his head between my neck and shoulder, nibbling at the skin there before his lips drifted up to whisper in my ear. “I’ll just have to do something about that, won’t I?”
I poked at his chest. “My turn, remember? Roll your ass over.”
That gave him pause. He pulled back, probably checking to see if I meant it. With a growing smile, he did as I demanded, remaining obediently still as I moved to straddle him again.
Pausing before doing anything else, I frowned down at him. “Should you be wearing a condom? Am I going to—”
“No, sweet. It’s only an issue if you swallow any fluids. An enzyme in your saliva keeps the virus from breaking down before it gets into the bloodstream. Though if it worries you, I suppose I can send someone out to pick some up—”
“No! No, that’s fine.” My turn to cut him off. This was a subject I did not want to explore, now, or maybe ever. Cripes, I couldn’t imagine the embarrassment of facing Mouse or Clarisse or whoever he would send out on that little errand. Besides, I trusted his word. If it were really a problem, then chances were after the last few times we’d had sex, I would have been permanently bound already. With a shrug, I shoved all those weird thoughts to the back of my mind, reached for him, and grinned. “Well then. Let’s get this party started.”
I took my time, enjoying the sensation of taking him in at my own pace. With my hands braced on his chest, I set the rhythm, the two of us moving together as instinct took over. It was slow and sweet and sensuous, everything I had hoped. Even when his fingers slid over the brand, adjusting the angle of my hips, it barely registered.
Though he had agreed it was my turn to run the show, he did slide a hand between us to help me reach my peak before he hit his. A shiver of pleasure had me throwing my head back, taking to a sensuous grind against him. There was nothing quite so intoxicating as the feel of him reaching the height of his pleasure beneath me, the way his muscles flexed and jerked, and the vibration of his pleased growl under my fingertips.
We didn’t stop there, though our pace slowed, taking our time to revel in the feel of each other. I’m not sure how long we spent entwined like that, touching, tasting, exploring each other in every way. It was sweet and glorious, a heady taste of the sensuality I had missed without the fear and pressure of being trapped beneath him. Maybe not as adrenaline-fueled as our last encounter, but it felt a hell of a lot better not to have that constant doubting voice in the back of my mind the whole time.
Once we both reached satiation for the third or fourth time, I collapsed over him, laughing at the mock-growl he gave me for stopping.
“I need a breather,” I told him, rolling a bit to settle in the crook of his arm.
He leaned in to kiss my temple. “As you wish. I’ll be ready for round two whenever you are.”
“Jeez,” I managed between snorting giggles, “I thought you could read my mind. I’m exhausted. Human stamina, not vampire, remember?”
“Despite appearances,” he said, tone dry, “I am neither perfect nor psychic, and that kind of cavalier abuse of the bond isn’t in my plans for you. Love is a powerful thing, but it does not change people into what you wish they would be.”
I tilted my head up, staring at him. He cocked a brow, questioning.
He looked so damned casual. One arm behind his head, the other splayed against his bare chest, sheets rumpled and pillows strewn around like some surreal form of art. The unliving statue of an ancient Grecian god, deigning to meddle in mortal affairs.
I hadn’t had the chance—or, being honest with myself, been brave enough—to ask him directly before now. The one time I had tried, he had used the blood bond to send me slinking back to Chaz without giving me a real answer to my fumbling, ham-handed attempt to get him to come clean about his feelings about me.
“Tell me, Royce. Please, no dancing around it. Do you love me? Really?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Unconditionally. No one has fascinated me the way you do. All those contradictions, all those damaged pieces, all the running and the hiding—the chase told me a great deal about you I don’t think you see. All those little things that add up to someone reckless and foolish and brave. Courageous and true to her friends. Beautiful in a way that this society rarely appreciates.”
I swiped my palms over my eyes, sweeping away the building moisture there. “Brave? I don’t know where you get that idea. I’m always running, reacting without thinking, hurting my friends, hurting myself—”
“Enough,” he said, tone so sharp I was drawn out of my growing funk enough to look
at him in surprise. “This is far too familiar ground. You hold yourself responsible for too much and cling to your flaws, real and imagined. Enough with the blame. Enough with feeling sorry for yourself. Give yourself some respect. You won’t get it from anyone else until you do. You can waste years trying—but you will never find that magical ‘good enough’ until you find it in yourself to stand up and accept who you are without reservation or apology.”
I had nothing to say to that. It stung how right he was.
The hurt was mostly realizing that one of the reasons I had fought so hard to face up to what I had become was that it meant letting go of my fear of Others. Of vampires. Acknowledging that my feelings for Royce went beyond that heady mix of horror and lust.
Well, not horror. Not anymore. Even if he still did things that scared me, what made me sweat and plastered my tongue to the roof of my mouth was the thought of letting go of all the excuses that shielded me from accepting that I wasn’t the same person I used to be. That I might have more than just pantsfeelings for a blood-drinking creature of the night. That I was more than human, but still had my humanity.
He was quiet, watching me, probably waiting for the significance of what he said to sink in. Once I looked up from my hands and back to him, he continued, voice soft. Like he thought he might scare me back into being introspective and victimized, ready to find another excuse not to be in the moment if he wasn’t careful.
I was done with that, but I wanted to hear what he had to say before I told him so.
“Most people, when they think of destruction, automatically assume it involves violence. Explosions, fire, and waste. You? The path of self-destruction you’ve been taking is a long road, a gradual wasting away, coming on silent cat’s feet. You doubt yourself. Your humanity. Your ability to cope. You haven’t taken note of what’s been available to you or the opportunities you’ve let slip away because of this quiet path you’ve been walking.