Vampire Instinct (Vampire Queen #7)

“Don’t do that.” Pushing back from him then, she took a couple steps away to stand on her own two feet. “You say I’m obsessed with being with them, but you’re obsessed with making me believe they have no future.”

“I’m preparing you for a reality that may be unavoidable.”

“Reality’s going to come, no matter what. That kind of reality, there’s no preparing for it.” She met his gaze. “There was no preparing for what happened with Victor. Nothing I could have done to make it less horrible in my memory, or give me less nightmares. Or make losing Willis hurt less. Except maybe not love him, not want to be with him, not cherish every brief moment we had. But if I had done that, I would never have had those moments.

“People who say ‘prepare for reality’ are just guarding their hearts, is all. To keep them from loving and giving, because everyone knows those things can hurt worse than being trampled by cattle.” She managed a smile then, a quiet thing in the darkness that gave her comfort where he couldn’t, standing on the other side of that gulf of belief about her children. “But it also feels better than anything else, when you have it.”

He said nothing, and she knew there was no help for it, not tonight. But everything in the world changed if you worked hard enough at it. Even a vampire who thought he knew everything and who—sometimes—she was afraid actually did. She swallowed that thought and the fear that came with it and let her gaze skitter over the dark eyes and unrelenting features.

“Thank you again, sir. Good night.”

“Elisa.”

She turned at the door, trying to look anywhere but directly at him. “Yes, sir?”

“Did I say you could leave?”

She swallowed again, met his eyes. Briefly. “No, sir. What can I . . . Do you need something?”

He nodded. “I want you to undress in front of me.”

“Oh. Well.” She set the shoes aside, arranging them tidily on the floor, next to a pair of his boots that had been dropped there haphazardly. She straightened them, too. Her fingers were shaking and her body felt hot all over, and when she stood up, he was right up against her back, but she didn’t jump. Instead, her breath caught in the back of her throat as he gripped her biceps.

“Are you truly good at sewing, Elisa?”

“Yes, sir, very good. Small stitches and—”

She gasped as he ripped the front of her blouse, sending the buttons clattering away across the floor. His thumbs found the tops of the bra cups, sliding down to tease areola and then nipple, making her arch into him, pressing her buttocks into the hardness of his cock and feeling an answering spear of wetness between her legs, readying herself for him.

Of a sudden, she was ravenous. She’d almost been killed tonight, but she hadn’t been. She was alive, alive. When she would have twisted in his arms, he pressed her hard against the wall, cold stone against her hot flesh. He kept her pinned there as his hands wandered down, opening her trousers and sliding into them to verify that wetness for himself.

“That’s it, atsilusgi,” he murmured as she cried out under his clever ministrations, coating his fingers with her slickness so that he slid three fingers right into her, almost up to the second knuckle. His groan as she instinctively rubbed her backside into his cock fueled her desire. She wanted him inside, needed him to roar and rut upon her like one of the lions, because she was alive, alive, alive.

“You’re eating more,” he observed in that husky voice, one hand traveling back up to caress the breast. He’d worked the strap off her shoulder so it was exposed, a wanton dishabille. “I like that.”

He was rubbing her, slow, slow circles between her legs. Her hips were working back against him, erratic, the feeling in her lower belly needy, going straight toward mindless. Good Lord, who knew a male could touch a woman like this?

“You will continue to eat more. And at dawn, every night, you will be here. You will take off all your clothes so I can see these gorgeous breasts of yours, your delectable ass. And I will determine if you are filling out properly. If I’m not here yet, you will lie in my bed and wait for me.” His voice dropped, became even huskier, as stunning a stroke upon her sex as his hands. “And perhaps I will use the second mark to speak in your mind, tell you to touch yourself the way you’ve thought about doing in your own bed. You won’t do that unless I’m watching you, unless I command you to do it. I’d like to see you bring yourself to orgasm the way I’ll do it now, fingers inside your cunt, your body flushed and throat working, crying out.”

She let out a guttural moan. Vampires weren’t like human males, so distracted by their own lust they couldn’t form coherent sentences. His ability to talk in or out of her mind, driving her to insanity, didn’t seem to diminish his lust one centigrade as he lifted his head, cupped her face and drew her head back to a straining angle to look at him.

“What do you say to me, Elisa? How do you answer me?”

“Y-yes . . . sir.” She stared up into his face, the craving need to say it greater than her fear. “Yes . . . Master.”

His eyes flamed then and he had his mouth on hers, letting her taste him and the remnants of the blood he’d taken from her. He still didn’t let her turn, kissing her thoroughly until she was writhing between him and that wall, all but begging for his fingers to take her where they were teasing her to go. Instead, he told her to stay where she was, facing the wall, and divested her of every scrap of clothing, putting them all to the side as she trembled, experiencing him only through the feel of his hands trailing down her shoulders, her back, over her buttocks.

“Spread your legs for me, Elisa,” he said. “And don’t move another muscle.” She did, holding that position, her hands pressed flat on the rock above her, toes gripping the smooth stone tile floor beneath as the heel of his palm made solid contact with her pussy, sealing over it. She held still, even as a tremulous wail, a soft, short cry, came from her throat at the intensity of feeling that went through her. There was a light sheen of perspiration on her body. He worked his palm on her, a slow back-andforth as she quivered.

“Are you wanton enough to do my bidding, Irish flower? Or will you be shy?”

She couldn’t speak over a dry throat. “I’ll do anything you wish, Master.”

She was alone suddenly, standing there stretched out against the wall, but she stayed there, didn’t look around until he spoke. “Then come here.”

Turning, she found he was on the bed now, as gloriously naked as herself, his clothes kicked away. He had his hand out. “Walk across the floor toward me, let me see how beautiful you are, the way your body moves. Then I’m going to put you on my cock and make you ride me until you climax hard.”

On top of him? Like experiencing his mouth between her legs, she’d never done that. She walked toward him then, trying not to be self-conscious. Faith, but vampires didn’t have any sense of modesty, no sense of making love in the dark or hiding under sheets.

What point would there be in that, when what I want to see is the way your curls shine in the firelight, the way your breasts move as you walk, the juices from your cunt damp on your thighs?

She trembled so hard she wasn’t sure she would make it, but then her fingers closed over that extended hand. She focused on his face, his mouth, then reached those burning, implacable eyes that wanted everything from her and wouldn’t take no as an answer. No didn’t exist anywhere inside her when he looked at her like this. This beautiful, amazing, wild and savage creature.

“You all are such a strange lot,” she whispered as he brought her alongside of him. “So decadent and frightening, but so hard to resist. It makes things hurt inside me.”

“Where?” His voice was soft, his eyes like one of his cats, so deep and dark.

She pressed the heel of her hand on her sternum, where all that pressure seemed to be building. He sat up then, keeping her between his thighs, his aroused cock brushing her lower belly. When he put his arm around her waist, brought her closer, tears burned in the back of her throat as he laid his lips lightly, so lightly on that column of bone that descended between her breasts. He turned his head, brushing his hair across her skin, and nuzzled.

“A vampire likes fear, Elisa,” he whispered, “but the only kind I want you to experience right now has to do with pleasure. You understand me?”

“Yes, sir. I know you won’t hurt me.”

Cupping her head in one broad hand, he met her eye to eye. “What about you? Will you hurt me?”

It was so unexpected, the gleam in his eyes, a nervous chuckle sputtered from her lips. “I’ll do my best not to cause you any permanent damage.”

“On the contrary”—now his mouth was back at her jaw, cruising and making her mind wobble on its axis again—“I want to drive you to mindless savagery. I want to feel your claws dig into my flesh, your teeth snap at my throat. I want you to squeeze me inside of you as if you want to trap me there forever.”

“Oh,” she breathed, and then she caught his shoulders as he lifted her effortlessly onto his lap, holding her just above his groin.

“Put me inside of you, Elisa. Let me see your hand grip me.”

It was all new territory. Mechanically, she’d done some things like this, but in truth, it was all so very different. She gripped the thick base, marveling at how the wetness at the head kissed her wrist, and took a moment touching him, running her grip up that length, then back down again.

Elisa, I gave you a very specific command. But his mind-voice held a strain that told her he liked what she was doing, so she did it again, her gaze flicking up to him to see it register in his face, wry acceptance, enduring her innocence, and growing ferocity, held back only by a thread. Then, in one smooth motion, he shifted his grip to her hips so he brought her forward and sheathed himself to the hilt, dislodging her hands.

The feeling was like a bolt of lightning straight up through her. She sucked in another breath at the tight spiral of pain and lust that spun through her torso as he held her down, wouldn’t let her move on him yet. Bringing her fingers to her lips, she tasted him while he watched. But when she would have done it with the other hand, he shook his head.