He swiped his tongue over the blood again, and she bucked, but he didn’t budge. “You’re going to feel it, Sin. I promise you that.” “Fuck you.”
“Feel it,” he said, his voice low and harsher than he intended. “Remember everyone who has died.” “No.”
Her arm split. He licked. “I won’t let you bleed. Feel it.”
“You’re one to talk,” she snapped. “How bad do you feel when you kick your human friends to the curb with lies?” “We aren’t talking about me, Sin.”
“You want me to be miserable?” she yelled. “Do you hate me that much?”
“No!” he shouted back. “I care that much.” He froze, unable to believe he’d just said that.
Sin blinked, her lush eyelashes framing the surprise in her eyes. Then she slapped him with her free hand hard enough to jar his teeth. “You bastard. You lying bastard. I get that you owe Eidolon some big debt, but I’m not stupid enough to fall for crap like that.”
“Jesus. I didn’t say I was in love with you or anything.” Oh, hell no. Never. “But I don’t hate you anymore.” And when that had happened, he wasn’t sure. “Why not?”
“You might have started the epidemic, but you didn’t mean to.”
Beneath him, her body relaxed, just a little. “Then why do you want me to feel all that guilt?”
“Because it’s not just guilt you’re locking up inside you. It’s everything. You need to let it out and learn to trust your feelings.”
Her skin split. “No.” Some of the resolution had seeped out of her voice, but clearly not enough. Lowering more of his weight onto her to keep her held down, he dragged his tongue up her arm. “Give it up, Sin. Feel.”
“I… If I think about that kid, the things I’ve done…” Her entire body started to tremble, and her eyes grew liquid.
The sight of her, so conflicted, clawed at him, and he eased away—and she dumped him on his ass on the floor. With near-vamp speed she was up and tearing toward the stairs. He leaped to his feet, grabbed her, and spun her to face him. “No more bullshit, Sin. Feel what you’ve done.” He took her hand and pressed it to her chest, where her heart was pounding painfully fast. So was his. “Let yourself feel something for someone else.”
“I hate you.” Her voice was so shaky he could hardly understand her.
“Then that’s something,” he said softly.
Abruptly, her eyes filled with tears. “Con…” She swallowed, over and over.
“Let it happen.”
“I’m… afraid.”
On impulse, he folded her into his arms. “Let it go.”
For an unbearably long time, she shook. And then she cried out an agonizing, terrified, animal-like wail that made his heart clench.
“It hurts,” she moaned. “Oh, God.” Her sobs came hard and fast, and he supposed he should be taking some measure of pleasure from her pain, but all he wanted to do was make it stop. Maybe he’d made a huge mistake. He almost released her, almost apologized, but when she started to push away, he tightened his arms around her. She was strong, and as her struggles grew more frantic, he had to crush her to him.
“Let go!” She tried to throw herself backward, tried to kick him, claw at him, bite him. He took it all, let her do as much damage as she wanted to. “Let… go…” The order came out as a moan and a plea, and as her struggles weakened, she began to sob again.
“Sin,” he whispered into her hair. “Shh…” Relaxing his grip just a little, he hooked a finger under her trembling chin and lifted her face to his. Black eyes swam in tears that left a trail down her cheeks.
Without thinking, he kissed her wet face, first one side, then the other.
“No,” she groaned, but her body sagged against his. And when he pressed his lips to hers, she clung to him as if he were a life raft and she was drowning.
He licked at her lips, easing his way in, not wanting to rush this. In his arms she felt tiny, fragile, in a way she never had and in a way he hadn’t believed possible, and some crazy instinct surfaced, making him want to take care of her, pamper her, and make her strong again.
Though she wasn’t actively participating in the kiss, she wasn’t fighting, either, and he took his time, nibbling at her mouth, stroking her lips, her teeth, and, finally, her tongue. He began an easy rhythm in and out of her mouth, and slowly, so slowly, heat built and she began to respond.
Sin’s hands eased up his back, tentatively at first, but as the kiss deepened, intensified, her touch became firmer, until she was rubbing not only her palms against him, but her br**sts against his chest. “That’s it,” he whispered against her lips. “Touch me.”
Sin dropped her hand to his fly, but he gripped her wrist to stop her.
“Not there. Not yet.”
“But—”
He shut her up with another kiss, this one more urgent, as he carried her to the floor. With one hand, he cupped her buttocks and tucked her beneath him, and with the other, he cradled her head, holding her for his kiss.
Her thighs cradled him in a tight fit, her soft sex rubbing, driving his h*ps forward even though he wanted to keep this whole thing at a leisurely pace. But his loins were already full, his animal blood ran thick and hot in his veins, and the mountains, the wilderness around them, called to his primitive nature.
It demanded that he take her with surety, a rough joining that would make them both howl. And as she came, he’d take her blood, too… The idea made him run both cold and hot. He wanted nothing more than to fill up on her as he filled her up. But, as always, in the back of his mind was the fear of addiction, something he knew he was precariously close to.
He couldn’t be responsible for another death caused by his careless hunger for a female’s blood. Sin’s slick tongue flicked over one of his fangs and then ran up and down it, stroking, and he moaned, forgetting everything but her. Right now, he needed to concentrate on making her feel good. On making her forget the horrors of the day and the horrors yet to come.
The hardest thing he’d ever done was keep from tearing off her clothes and plunging inside her, especially when she began to rock against him, her lean form undulating in sinuous waves. A softly uttered “No” accompanied every roll of her hips. Her body was willing, but her mind still hadn’t accepted this. If he did what his body was demanding, a hard, fast f**k, she’d be on board. But the tenderness was scaring her.
“Easy,” he murmured, as he kissed a trail down her jaw, to her throat, where her pulse beat madly beneath his lips. “If you truly don’t want this, I’ll stop. But it’s time for you, isn’t it?” He knew it wasn’t. Oh, she was giving off the usual succubus f**k-me vibes, but not in desperate, take-me-now quantities. But she was nervous, afraid, and she needed an excuse to go with this because she wanted to, not because she required it.
“Yes,” she rasped, the lie seeming to catch in her throat.
“Then I’ll take care of you,” he murmured. The problem, he realized, as his hunger surfaced, would be taking care of himself. Sin was scared to death.
It took a lot to terrify her. But somehow this sexy dhampire who was kissing her senseless was making her squirm with anxiety and need that went deeper than the physical. He’d forced her to confront emotions she’d never wanted to experience, and she was still reeling from that, trying to stuff those feelings back in the box they’d been locked in for so long.
Cold, hard-core sex would help make that happen. Con reared back, just a little, so he could peel off her top and bra, her ultrathin leather dagger harness, and then her boots, pants, and thigh and ankle sheaths. He made a messy pile of her weapons, something that made her twitchy, but then he was touching her again, and her weapons were forgotten. Her heart pinged around in her rib cage as he slid his long, talented fingers up and over her br**sts. She inhaled, taking in the musky scents of aroused male and battle that still clung to Con’s bronzed skin. Lust tackled her, turned her muscles to Jell-O, and made her core run wet.
Writhing, she dropped her head onto the hardwood floor with a frustrated curse. “Stop teasing.” She went for his pants again, but he stopped her, his grip on her wrist ruthless almost to the point of pain.
“I’m going to make love to you, Sin. We’re not going to f**k. We’re taking it slow, with lots of that foreplay I talked about.”
Her chest constricted with alarm. “Why?” He made a sound that was something between a chuckle and a purr. “Only you would question extended erotic play.” His fingers delved between her legs, feathering over the fleshy lips of her sex. “And I intend to turn you into my personal playground.”
Oh, Jesus. “I… can’t.” She didn’t know how. But more than that, making love would leave her open, vulnerable. Fucking was easy, two bodies slapping together to reach a brief moment of pleasure. Making love involved emotions tangling and minds meeting until the orgasm was more than physical… and she wasn’t good at that at all.
“You can, and you will.” He peeled off his jeans, leaving his lean, toned body completely na**d, his silver eyes glittering in the moonlight streaming through the windows, his fangs glinting wetly. Deep-cut muscles flexed from his neck, to his arms, to his abs, where a thin line of blond hair beckoned her gaze lower. His c*ck was so rigid that it curved into his stomach, the veins throbbing with the intensity of his arousal. He looked like a god, a devil, a wild animal intent on taking what it wanted.
And yet, there was an underlying tenderness in his expression and in his touch as he prowled up the length of her body. Something lurched in her chest. Her heart, something she’d believed to be completely insulated, was reacting to this man in a way it never had before.
Panic wrapped around her, and with a cry, she shoved him away and scrambled to her hands and knees. Terror made her awkward, and she slipped while trying to get to her feet. A low, dangerous growl sounded behind her, and she screamed just before Con’s heavy body covered her so she was belly down on the floor. One hand yanked her arms above her head, pinning her, while the other delved between her legs.