by Kresley Cole
"I do. It was thrilling to perform for an audience. And I miss the camaraderie in the troupe." She even missed her muscles aching from the exertion of a taxing rehearsal. "But I'm happy that I get to share this with you." His hand found hers.
Once the curtain closed, she teared up at the tragic ending—though it was expected and accepted—because it had a new meaning for her now. Néomi, too, would be separated from the man she loved. She didn't want to be, lamenting that she was in this position.
But it was expected. She'd accepted it. And she didn't regret a moment—
He slipped a felt-covered box into her hand. "What is this?" she asked, though she knew.
With a swallow, she opened the case. Inside lay an exquisite platinum ring, with a vibrant blue sapphire center stone flanked by diamonds.
"Be my wife, Néomi."
When she could take her eyes from the ring, she gazed up at him. He'd asked her here. Awash in the beauty of this place, her heart was full with emotion from the dance—and from loving the man who'd given this night to her. Under any other circumstances, she would have been crying with joy.
"Conrad... " The need to confess everything burned within her. But she feared robbing herself of this time with him. It's running out. Their gazes held. And I can't tell you.
Giving the ring back would be one of the hardest things she'd ever done. Though it was tearing her apart, she handed him the box. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I can't."
He accepted it from her without a word. But a muscle ticked in his jaw.
When Néomi refused his ring, the world tilted askew.
Like a punch in the gut, Conrad realized that even after everything—the time they'd shared, their enjoyment of each other—she still would make no commitment to him.
And she hadn't even needed a second to consider what he was offering.
The fatigue he'd ignored returned redoubled. The frustration from his stymied search mounted. He was failing at every turn.
Conrad couldn't find what he needed and couldn't secure what he had.
The more Néomi pulled away, the more crazed he felt. He wanted her to the point of madness. Conrad was a man who knew exactly where that point lay.
He decided at that moment that he simply wouldn't let her go.
Conrad had feared that if he took this stand, he would remind her of Robicheaux. That bastard had demanded she stay with him as well.
Yet there was a difference between never letting her go when she actually wanted to stay and keeping her only because he couldn't live without her.
Conrad believed Néomi wanted to be kept by him. He'd oblige her.
36
He was seething.
Néomi felt as if she were sidling around an untamed animal—one wrong move could provoke it to attack.
Endeavoring not to reveal her dismay, she behaved as if nothing were amiss, readying for bed as usual. In the past, her feminine rituals had seemed to fascinate him, almost relaxing him. Maybe they would tonight.
She removed her jewelry, donned a nightgown and robe of crimson silk, and applied lotion to her hands and legs.
Taking a seat at her dresser, she raised her brush, glancing at him in the mirror. Usually he sat on the bed, rapt as she combed out her hair, as if awaiting his turn to run his fingers through it.
Now he was in his customary spot, but his expression was drawn. The weather outside seemed to mirror the turmoil she sensed inside him. The wind gusted all around the old manor, and the lightning was already dancing. Though the rain hadn't yet started, it would. Néomi knew fall was turning to winter in the bayou's unique way—with overnight deluges, as if to beat the lingering heat into submission and batter the clinging leaves from the trees.
"What do I have to do, Néomi?" He ran his hand over his wearied face. "Who do I have to kill to keep you? Tell me what to do, and it's done."
She turned to him. "Conrad, not again. I thought we settled this on the morning after the gathering."
"How could I forget about your conditions?" he asked, sneering the word. "Tell me your secret, damn you! Did you make some kind of deal with the devil? Why won't you marry me?"
He rose and crossed to her. With his broad shoulders back, every inch the officer, he said, "You might even now be carrying my babe. What if I refuse ever to let you go?"
"Let me go?" she asked softly. "I've been through that before."
"Don't you compare him to me!" Conrad pulled her up from her chair, then cupped the back of her neck. "There's a difference between keeping a woman who wants to be kept and one who doesn't."
"And you think I want to be kept?"
"You do. By me. You want me to make it so that we never part again."
She turned away, unable to deny it.
"So now I'm going to tell you how this will be with us." With a straightened arm, he swept the items from the dresser, setting her atop it. "You—are—mine. Nothing will change that."
He seemed on the very edge of control, and she felt her body already responding to his ferocity. "Body and soul—you're all mine." He was breathing heavily. And as soon as I kill the one I'm hunting, then you will wed me."
"What does Tarut have to do with us?"
"You know I bear the demon's mark." Conrad wedged his hips between her legs, forcing her gown to ride up. "You know that it won't heal until he's dead. But there's more to it. If I can't defeat him, then my most coveted dream and worst nightmare will come true. When you appeared that night at the gathering in flesh and blood—that was my dream."
"I-I was?"
He gave her a short nod. "My nightmare is that you die again."
"That's why you've hunted so relentlessly?" For her?
"And I'll continue to. But after that, Néomi, I vow to you, the second I rid my body of this mark... from that moment on you'll be more than my Bride—you'll be my wife."
Again a male was demanding that she marry him with a wild look in his eyes. But there were such differences this time.
Conrad would never hurt her. He would rather die.
And Néomi was just as crazed for him.
She knew her eyes were wild with wanting him, too. "Conrad... " She yearned so much to tell him everything. To tell him that she loved him, and that she was so selfish and greedy for him that she couldn't leave—even though she'd only end up hurting him. "It can't happen—"
Cutting off her words with his kiss, he groaned against her mouth and fisted his hands in her robe. Once he'd stripped it from her, he snatched the small case from his jacket and plucked the ring out. He seized her left hand and pressed the ring down her finger. "This shows my claim on you," he grated. "Take it off right now if you truly don't want to marry me."
The metal was hot like a brand, the ring fitting her perfectly. She could no more take it off than she could quit breathing.
"I want you, Néomi. Forever." Just before he took her lips again, he rasped, "Want me, too."
As his kiss deepened, he yanked up her gown to her waist. When he sensuously palmed her sex, she responded as if he'd lit a fuse, growing damp in a rush. Her hands were desperately seeking all over his body.
When she unzipped his pants and tugged free his rigid shaft, the broad head nudged against her entrance.
With his hand splayed over her chest, he pressed her back to the mirror. She drew her bent legs up, placing her heels on the edge of the dresser, as open for him as she could be. With a groan, he swooped his arms under her knees, then leaned forward.
Caging her in, surrounding her, he entered her body. Possessing her. "I feel you pulling away from me." With a long, hard stroke, he murmured, "Don't... "
He watched her expression, the emotion in her eyes. This is a good-bye. Even as he was inside her, she was telling him good-bye. And I don't even know why.
With everything he felt for her, he took her, driving between her thighs. His shaft throbbed within her tight sheath as he struggled not to come, wanting this to last forever.
The more
she pulls away... He would never let her go. Never.
Take her... claim her completely. The last barrier between them. Conrad needed to bite her, to mark her, like an animal. He was the monster they all thought him.
No! He had to fight... had to overcome the instinct.
He felt his fangs sharpening. As his hips bucked, he found himself easing toward her pale neck, drawn to the hectic pulse he could see so clearly. Possess her completely. He licked her, preparing her.
Lost...
He pierced her tender skin; the sweetest flesh he'd ever tasted closed tight around his aching fangs. Was she moaning? He could feel the sound.
His eyes flashed open when he began sucking her, because God help her... he knew he'd do this again.
As her rich blood hit his tongue and slid down his throat like silk and wine, he groaned in ecstasy. Heat seared through his veins. Her heat. Her essence.
"Stop now." Her words were faint compared to the exquisite beating of her heart in his ears.
No. Want more. Sucking harder.
"You'll hurt me," she whispered.
Must have this.
"Conrad... "
With a will he hadn't known he possessed, he stopped taking. But he left his fangs in her flesh, growling against her damp skin as his seed erupted from his body in mind-numbing waves. Connection. Marked. Mine... .
When he drew back from her, he studied her face. Her cheeks were pinkened. He hadn't hurt her.
He'd bitten her. He'd taken her blood. And it had felt like it was supposed to happen. He'd heard her moaning. She'd taken pleasure from his bite. I didn't hurt her—
She burst into tears. With her bottom lip trembling, her eyes glittering, she whispered, "How could you, Conrad?" She raised her hand to slap him—the closest to fury he'd ever seen her.
37
"What is wrong with me?" At the folly yet again. All the night creatures around him were silent, as if they sensed his threat. "Why can't I be right?" he roared to the night.
Néomi hadn't been physically hurt, but she'd been inconsolable. "You have no idea what you've done!" she'd cried. The hand poised to strike him had faltered. She'd closed it to a fist before lowering it, without giving him the hit he'd deserved.
As her gaze had flickered over his face, the expressions he'd grown used to seeing had been absent. There'd been none of her looks of pride in him, or glances brimming with desire.
She'd appeared betrayed.
For an hour he retraced his habitual path along the water's edge. He scarcely registered it when the skies opened up and poured. Earlier when he'd left the room, he thought he'd heard her beginning to cry harder. To cry over him.
It made his chest feel hollow, and his new heartbeats pained him. Hell, could death feel worse than he did now?
The only thing that heartened was that she hadn't removed the ring. They'd both glanced at it and then met eyes. He'd felt sure she'd throw it in his face.
But she hadn't rejected his claim on her. Not yet.
A sound behind him. At first he thought she'd followed him out into the rain, and he twisted around, words rising from his tongue. I'm in love with you. I will do better. I won't hurt you again—
Eight swordsmen greeted him, weapons drawn, Tarut among them. There weren't many males that Conrad had to tilt his head to meet their eyes, but this was one of them.
Goddamn it, how could Conrad have been so careless? His senses had never failed him before. The demon could have walked up right behind him and sliced off his head, before Conrad would even have known.
"Will you trace, Wroth?" Tarut said, raising his voice over the rain. "Or fight?"
"Finally ready to die?"
One last battle, then. If Conrad was defeated, then maybe it would for the best. When Néomi left him, the memories would take over once more, and he'd be lost anyway.
Or if he won... She hadn't taken off his ring. If he won, he wouldn't let her leave him.
Let fate decide my future.
There were eight swordsmen against him, and he was weaponless. But Conrad would be fighting for her—because he'd vowed if he killed Tarut and rid himself of the mark, then she'd become his wife.
Things became simple. Kill eight; keep her forever.
Conrad's fangs sharpened. He ran his tongue along one, the blood like a hit of adrenaline. Obstacles stood between him and what he wanted. He sneered at the demons. They had no idea what they'd stumbled into. Eliminate the obstacles.
He charged the closest one. In a flash, Conrad's hand shot out, ripping the demon's throat from its neck. Blood spurt. In his mind, these beings kept him from Néomi. A surge of fury coursed through him. They were a threat to her very life.
Conrad reached the next one, grabbing it by the horns, twisting the head until vertebrae cracked. His fingers bit into the demon's thick skin, ripping the beast apart with his hands.
They'd dared bring death to his and Néomi's home... .
Rage erupted in him—never had Conrad felt its equal. And soon... he succumbed to the frenzy, doing what he did best.
As Néomi peered into the mirror at the two pinpoints of blood on her neck, she shivered all over again.
The bite that had given her such pleasure also spelled her doom. She'd never felt more connected to a living person, and once it was over, never more betrayed.
Now she felt only regret. Her anger with Conrad had been akin to chastening a beast of prey for hunting. He was a vampire; he'd bitten her. She knew he hadn't made a conscious decision to do it. He'd appeared confounded, appalled with himself as he'd grated, "I'm supposed to protect you from men like me."
She gazed down at the breathtaking ring he'd bought for her, but she couldn't bring herself to remove it. He'd told her to take it off if she truly didn't want to marry him.
But she truly did.
He wanted to put a claim of some kind on her and her future. She felt the same need for him.
Yet she'd already sensed that she'd be leaving soon. She didn't know where she was going, just knew it would be without Conrad.
Oh, who was she fooling? Leaving? She wasn't going on a trip. She was about to die. And she was afraid.
She drew away from the mirror to wait for his return. He'd probably gone to the folly again. She wished he would come back—the wind had begun churning, pelting rain against the windows.
Suddenly a deafening roar resounded over the property. "Conrad!" Oh, God, would he try to harm himself? She'd been so hard on him!
When she heard him yell in pain, she was on her feet in an instant, cinching her robe as she hastened for the door. Dashing headlong into the blustery night, she squinted against the rain, tracking the sounds to a clearing near the folly.
She drew up short at the sight of three mangled bodies on the ground. Five other beings, all tall and brawny, circled Conrad. His lips were drawn back from his fangs, baring them in his rage. Was he motioning for his opponents to come closer?
In a flash of lightning, she made out the black symbols on their bared backs. The Kapsliga.
They took turns lunging forward with their swords raised. Every time they lashed out, the circle would tighten, giving Conrad less space to maneuver. Why didn't he trace away?
When one demon sank his sword into Conrad's arm, he bellowed with rage, his fist shooting out. With a brutal hit, Conrad sent him spinning unconscious to the ground, snatching the demon's weapon as he fell.
With his uninjured arm he swung the sword down, decapitating the foe. Now he has a weapon. She was transfixed by the harsh lines of his face, by the savagery in his expression. When the dam burst, his eyes flooding with red, she knew he was going to kill them all. She would only hinder him. Though it went against every instinct urging her to help him, she began to back away—
Conrad caught sight of her. At that exact moment, she heard breaths behind her; an arm slid around her neck.
Tarut had Néomi.
Conrad tensed to trace to her, but the demon tightened his ho
ld.
"Not unless you want your fragile human dead."
Can't get to her, can't reach her. She was wide-eyed in the rain, terrified. This is all my doing—all my fault!
She looked so small compared to the immense demon. If Tarut flexed a muscle, he'd snap her neck. In one instant, she'd be dead. "Ease your goddamned grip, demon—you'll suffocate her."
"Bad luck of yours to get a mortal for a Bride. They die so readily."
The rawest panic Conrad had ever felt surged within him. "Just hang on, Néomi." To Tarut, he said, "Let her go if you have any care for living."
"I don't think so, vampire." Two of Tarut's henchmen seized Conrad's arms, and he was forced to allow it. "You know what I seek. I'll never let her go, not until I get it."
Tarut wouldn't let her go until Conrad was dead. Through the deluge, he scanned the area, searching for options, for a kill. There were none.
He could see no way to remove this power from the demon.
Néomi was shaking her head, struggling to speak. "Trace away... " she gasped. So vulnerable.
"I'll vow to free her from the curse," Tarut said, "and release her tonight. All you have to give me is your head."
Rewards and obstacles. Reward: saving Néomi's life. Tarut would be bound by that oath to free her.
The obstacle? There was no obstacle. All I've ever wanted is life, she'd said. And because of Conrad's past, she was in jeopardy of losing it.
If he could sacrifice his life to save hers, he'd do it proudly.
"Conrad... no!" she cried, blinking through the rain. "Wait... I'm d—" The bastard tightened his grip, cutting off her air.
"Stop!" When she dug her little fingers into the demon's arm, desperate for breath, desperate for life, Conrad yelled, "Do it, demon—swing your blow. If you vow that neither you nor your men will ever harm her."
Tarut gave a solemn nod. "I vow it to the Lore."
Néomi was weeping, fighting... frantic for breath to tell him the truth.
In the tumultuous storm, Conrad stood with his shoulders back, so ready to meet death for her. Her struggles were making his expression anguished, making him impatient for the blow.