She ignored the warmth his words conjured, ignored her dream of him.
"Emma, will you drink from me?"
She scrunched her nose. "You smell like alcohol."
"I had a dram or two."
"Then I'll pass."
He was silent for a moment, then held up the necklace again. "I want you to wear this." He leaned forward to reach around and fasten it. Which placed his neck directly before her lips.
She spied a nick just inches from her mouth. "You've cut yourself," she murmured in a daze.
"Did I, then?"
She licked her lips, trying not to succumb to the temptation. "You're, oh, God, move your neck," she whispered, panting.
The next thing she felt was his palm on the back of her head, pulling her to him, forcing her mouth against his skin.
She pounded her fists against his chest, but he was too strong. She finally surrendered, unable to stop herself from darting her tongue out. She licked him slowly, savoring his taste and the way his body tensed, she knew, with pleasure.
Moaning, shuddering, she sank her fangs in and drew.
25
As she drank, Lachlain squeezed her in his arms and rose to sit on the edge of the bed. He lifted her onto his lap, making her straddle him.
He knew she was lost, clinging so sweetly to him, her elbows on his shoulders, her forearms crossed behind his head. The necklace was cold against his chest as he pulled her closer.
She drew in deep.
"Drink...slowly, Emma."
When she didn't, he did something he wouldn't have thought he was capable of. He broke away from her.
She swayed immediately. "What's happening to me?" she asked in a slurred tone.
You're drunk so I can take advantage of you...
"I feel so...strange."
When he rolled up her nightgown, she didn't stop him, even when he palmed her between her legs. He groaned anew to find her so wet. His erection was about to rip through his pants.
She was breathing hot and fast against his skin where her lips and teeth had been. She licked him there when he thrust his finger inside her tight sex, then ran her face against his, moaning softly.
"Everything's spinning," she whispered.
He felt guilt, but he knew what they needed and would take them headlong to it, damn the consequences. "Spread your knees more. Rest on my hand."
She did. "I ache, Lachlain." Her voice was throaty, sexy as hell.
She whimpered when he leaned down to drag his tongue over her nipple. "I can ease it," he bit out as he unfastened his pants with his free hand and his c**k sprang forth just beneath her. "Emma, I need...tae be inside you. I'm going tae press you down on me."
He forced her hips lower and lower. Gentle. First time. So small.
"And then I'm going to take you until neither of us aches like this," he said against her nipple. Just when he was about to touch her wetness, when he could perceive her heat, she flung away from him, scrambling to the headboard.
He growled with frustration, yanking her right back, until she pummelled his shoulder.
"No! Something's not right." Her hand flew to her forehead. "Feel so dizzy."
Put the beast back in its cage. He'd made a vow to her, never to touch her when she didn't want him to. But her gown was barely covering her, red silk teasing against her white thighs, her ni**les hard. He couldn't catch his breath...needed her so badly...
With another growl, he reached over and tossed her to her front. As she struggled, he held her down to bare her generous, perfect arse.
Groaning, he brought his hand down on her curves, not a slap, more a pawing that landed hard. Since he'd met her, he'd brought himself to spend each day in the shower. With her scent fresh in his mind and his hands still warmed from her skin, it was always violently powerful.
She gasped when he kneaded her curves. It would have to be enough.
Time to shower.
Emma still felt his hand against her. It hadn't been a hit or a slap, but - Freya help her - an exquisitely delivered message.
What was wrong with her? Why was she thinking this way? She shivered and moaned. The beast in the cage? - that's what he'd told her. Well, the beast had just swiped a hand out of the cage and delivered a good smack on her backside. It was a masterful, masculine touch that made her want to dissolve, and left her rolling her hips against the bed.
The urge to touch her sex was overwhelming. She wanted to beg to ride him. Her body twitched as she fought it.
The necklace he'd fastened around her was actually a choker that had gold strands and jewels cascading down over her br**sts. It was heavy on her and felt sexy and forbidden. When she moved, it swayed and tickled her ni**les.
Something about this necklace and the way he'd pressed it upon her signaled...possession.
He'd done something to her tonight. The bed spun, and she felt like...giggling. She also couldn't seem to stop running her hands up and down her body. When her thoughts came, they were clear, but soft and slow...
She didn't know how much longer she could take him touching her without begging for him. Right now on the tip of her tongue, "Please."
No! She was already different from others in her coven - part hated foe, weak compared to her aunts.
If the timid vampire Valkyrie returned home aching for her Lykae?
The disgust and disappointment they would feel. The hurt in their eyes. Besides, she believed if she gave this up, she'd have no power between her and Lachlain - surrendered with a whispered, "Please." If she succumbed, she wouldn't be going home. Ever. She feared he had the power to make her forget why she'd ever wanted to.
The bed spun more wildly. She frowned as realization hit her.
He'd gotten her drunk.