A Hunger Like No Other (Immortals After Dark #2)(5)
Author: Kresley Cole

He closed his eyes with pleasure as the water ran over him, noticing that it did nothing to quell his erection. He sensed her tense as though to run, and opened his eyes. If he’d been stronger, he would’ve hoped she would try it. "Looking at the door like that? I’ll catch you before you make it from this room."

She turned back, saw he’d grown harder, and seemed to choke on a cry.

"Take off your clothes, vampire."

"I-I will not!"

"Do you want to come in here with them on?"

"Preferable to being naked with you!"

He felt relaxed under the water, even magnanimous after the excellent food. "Then let’s make a bargain. You grant me a boon and I’ll return one."

She looked up at him from under a curl freed from her tight braids. "What do you mean?"

He put his hands on each side of the door and leaned forward out of the water. "I want you in here, unclothed. What do you want of me?"

"Nothing of value equal to that," she whispered.

"You’ll be with me indefinitely. Until I decide to let you go. Do you no’ want to contact your…people?" He spat the word. "I’m sure you have much value to them, being so rare." In fact, keeping her from her vampire kin would just be the beginning of his revenge. He knew they’d find the idea of her being f**ked repeatedly by a Lykae as revolting as his clan would find it. She nibbled her red bottom lip with one tiny fang, and his anger flared again. "I doona have to grant you anything! I could just take you in here and then in the bed."

"A-and you won’t if I agree to be in there with you?"

"Come willingly and I will no’," he lied.

"What will you…do?"

"I want to put my hands on you. Learn you. And I’ll want your hands on me."

In a voice so soft he could scarcely hear her, she asked, "Will you hurt me?"

"Touch you. No’ hurt you."

Her delicate blond brows drew together as she weighed this. Then, as though in great pain, she bent down to her boots, unfastening them with a buzzing sound. She stood and grasped the edges of her jacket and ruined blouse, but she seemed unable to proceed. She shook wildly and her blue eyes were stark. But she was agreeing – in a flash of insight, he knew she wasn’t agreeing because of any reason he could fathom. Her eyes seemed so expressive, yet he couldn’t read her.

When he loomed closer, she peeled the wet jacket and blouse away, then the shredded undergarment beneath them, hastily draping a thin arm over her br**sts. Shy? When he’d seen the orgies of blood the vampires reveled in?

"Please. I-I don’t know who you think I am, but – "

"I think" – before she could blink, he’d ripped her skirt clean from her body and tossed it to the ground – "that I should at least know your name before I set to touchin’ you."

She shook harder if possible, her arm tightening over her br**sts.

He studied her, his gaze drinking her in. Her skin was perfect alabaster covered only by her strange pantalettes, the black silk that was like a V on her body. The front was transparent jet lace and teased against the blond curls between her legs. He remembered his two fleeting tastes of her skin in the howling rain and unnatural lightning, and his c**k pulsed, the head growing slick with anticipation. Other men would find her exquisite. The vampires would. Human males would kill for her.

Her trembling body was too small, but her eyes…wide and blue like the daytime sky she would never witness.

"M-my name is Emmaline."

"Emmaline," he growled, slowly reaching forward one claw to slice away the silk.

2

She’d been a fool to agree to this, Emma decided when the remains of her underwear fluttered to her ankles. Why should she trust him? She shouldn’t, but what choice did she have? She had to call Annika, her foster mother. She would be frantic when the pilot reported Emma had never shown up.

But was that really the reason she’d agreed to this? She feared it wasn’t so selfless a reason. Throughout her life, men had asked things of her – things her hidden vampire nature made impossible. Not this male. He knew what she was, and he wasn’t asking the impossible, he was demanding…

A shower.

And yet…

He held out his hand. Not aggressively or impatiently, but accompanied by a slow perusal of her wholly naked body with eyes that were intense but now warm and golden. He gave a sharp groan that she knew was involuntary. As if he found her beautiful.

His size was still terrifying, his leg sickening, but with a deep breath, and more courage than she’d conjured in her entire life, she slipped her hand into his.

Just when she fully grasped that she was completely naked in a shower with a six-and-a-half-foot crazed male of indeterminate species, he pulled her under the water with him, turning her back to him.

He took her left hand and placed it against the marble. The other he placed against the glass. Her mind was racing. What would he do to her? She couldn’t be more unprepared for a situation like this. A sexual situation. He could do anything he wanted. She couldn’t stop him.

She drew her head back in surprise when, all business, he began running soap down her back, over her backside, his palms big on her. She was embarrassed that this stranger saw her like this, but she was also intrigued by his body. She strove not to peek at his huge erection as he bent and moved, but it was…eye-catching. She tried not to notice that the hair on his arms, legs, and chest was golden-tipped, or that his skin, but for that of his leg, was tan.

He bent down to wash her legs front and back, and scrubbed the grass and mud from her knees. When he rubbed toward her upper thighs, she shoved her legs together. He gave a frustrated growl, then stood to draw her back against his chest, until she could feel him prodding her. He started the same leisurely exploration of her front, one arm bent by her side, his hand clasping her shoulder.

Suddenly his callused palm cupped her breast. She would fight, or scream –

"Your skin’s so damn soft," he murmured in her ear. "Soft as the silk you wore."

She shivered. One compliment, and Emma – who’d never suspected she was easy – relaxed somewhat. When he ran his thumb slowly over her nipple and back, she sucked in a breath, glad he couldn’t see her eyelids briefly slide closed. How could anything feel that good?

"Put your foot there." He motioned to the narrow bench along the shower’s back wall.

And spread her thighs? "Um, I don’t – "

He lifted her knee and placed it there himself. When she began to move it, he snapped, "Doona dare. Now, lean your head back against me."

Then both his hands were back on her br**sts, now rubbing with friction since the soap had washed away. She bit her lip as her ni**les hardened almost painfully. She should be terrified. Was she so desperate for touch – any touch – that she would submit to this?