Lord of the Vampires (Royal House of Shadows #1)(39)
Author: Gena Showalter

“Shouldn’t bite, must bite.”

“Bite. Please. I’m yours, Nicolai. I’m yours.”

He growled, and then his fangs were in her neck and she was climaxing, squeezing at him, clutching at him. Taking everything he had to give and demanding more. And he gave it to her.

He rode the waves of her satisfaction, thrusting inside her with a fervor that left her breathless. He was all around her, a part of her, the sole light in her world. Drinking, drinking, oh, yes, drinking. Soon she became dizzy, and little doubts peeked from the shadows of her mind, as if they’d been hiding all along, waiting for her defenses to crumble.

Maybe his words—want you no matter what, need you—were preorgasm talk, meant to lure her into bed and keep her from running. Maybe the cloud of desire had been leading him all along. Maybe he would later change his mind about wanting her.

Maybe, when this was over, he would let her go.

No. She fought back. No. This wasn’t temporary. He wouldn’t discard her. Even if he learned the truth about some of the things she’d done to his kind?

Cold, hard reality. Again, she fought back. Nothing would destroy this moment, not even that. Here, pleasure mattered. Only pleasure.

He hooked one of his arms under her knee and lifted, opening her wider, increasing the depths he reached. Instantly her body prepared for yet another climax, needing it just as desperately as the others, as if sex with him was a prerequisite for her survival. She should fear that. She needed him too intently, was no longer complete without him.

Hell, if she left, would she be the one to wither? Had she mated him and just didn’t know it? What did she know about the road to mating? Nothing really.

Nicolai took hold of her other leg and lifted, surging impossibly deeper, and she forgot even that. There was no part of her left untouched. She was Nicolai’s woman, plain and simple, branded by him, a part of him. After this, she would never be the same, didn’t want to be the same.

She sank her nails into his scalp and forced his head up. His teeth slid from her vein. “Nicolai…”

“I’m sorry.” He eyed her, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t mean… Did I take too much?” Agony wafted.

“No.” He could have it all, every last drop. “Kiss me,” she demanded.

“Yes.” He met her halfway. Their lips pressed together, their tongues dueled. His flavor filled her, and this time it was mixed with hers. Together, every part of them together…intoxicating.

“Mine,” she said.

“Yours.”

Forever, she didn’t let herself add, but, oh, did she want to. Later, they would talk. Yes, the dreaded conversation about feeling and intentions. About the future.

The kiss continued, spinning out of control, their teeth scraping together, as he slipped and slid within her. He released one of her legs to move his hand between their bodies, and pressed his thumb against her clitoris. Just like that, she exploded again, spasming around him.

He hissed out a breath, pushed deep once more, and came, every muscle he possessed clenching and unclenching. She’d never made love without a condom, and loved the feel of him jetting inside her.

When he stilled, she wrapped herself around him, holding him as close as possible. He collapsed on top of her, but quickly rolled to relieve the pressure of his muscled weight. They were both sweat soaked and feverish, trembling.

“My Jane,” he said, so much satisfaction in his voice she couldn’t fear the upcoming discussion.

She kissed his shoulder. “My Nicolai.”

Forever.

She hoped.

“Don’t leave…need to talk,” she breathed, just before drifting off to sleep.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

PANTING, SWEATING, SATED in the most perfect way, Nicolai snuggled Jane in to his side. Her blood flowed through his veins like champagne, bubbling and fizzing, claiming every thought and beating back a painful realization he wasn’t quite ready to face. He wanted to close his eyes and savor, but he had a few things to work out in his mind first.

She’d wanted to talk. About what? If she thought to push him away after what they’d shared… Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

What they’d just done could not be called “sex.”

Sex was an urge. Sex was something you could do with anyone. Sex could be consensual or forced, as he well knew. What they’d done was a mating. Primal, wild, necessary, and as essential as a beating heart.

He would have died if he’d been denied access to her body. He’d simply had to be inside her. Nothing could have stopped him. Not attack, not death, hell, not even her disappearance. If she had returned to her world, he would have found a way to follow her.

There was no resisting this woman, not for him, and he wasn’t going to try anymore. Not in any way. His betrothed might be waiting for him, but so what. Like he’d told Jane, he would have her and no other.

She’d changed him.

When he’d first seen her, scented her, his hunger for her had bloomed. Perhaps he’d become obsessed. Because when he’d watched her being whipped, he’d forgotten his plan to save himself and had gone after her. Then, when he’d heard her scream, had realized the ogres were hurting her, his rage had been unequaled. Seeing her beaten face and body had made a mockery of the rage, however, and he’d become fully beast, his darker nature taking over.

All the times before, he’d only thought he had a temper.

The fighting had ended too early. He’d wanted to torture the king, wanted to keep him at the brink of death and agony for centuries. For Jane’s sake, he’d finished the bastard off and gathered his woman close, just like this.

She had slept then, too, but he hadn’t calmed. The need to brand her, to let the world know exactly who she belonged to, had been driving him as forcefully as the rage had. But he hadn’t wanted to hurt her when he took her—and he’d known he would take her.

So he’d brought her here, intending to swim and pacify himself. He’d meant to feed her the fish, as well, but she’d watched him while he’d captured them, and he’d felt the rise of her desire.

He’d forgotten his good intentions. His hope to be careful.

Now he’d had her, had branded her, just as he’d wanted, needed, but he realized even that wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough with her. He would always want her. Always want more.

Were his parents alive, they would understand. He knew this to be true.