Even more pleasing was the knowledge that high griffins were powerful enough to thwart a vampire's strength. So the fae had a good bit of protection here, and he almost wondered if she chose this area for that purpose.
Regardless, he didn't ask, exiting the pond to wring out his clothing as she qualified, “I love this place. It reminds me of the Norwegian pond where I was born.”
Born? Judging by what he knew of the fae, the word seemed strange, and he almost asked over the matter. But as she turned to face him, the sight of her wet clothing clinging to her body derailed his train of thought.
Dear gods, the material of her top was so thin the darkened circles of her nipples were visible. The protrusions pressed against the cloth as if begging to be sucked, nearly eliciting a groan as he forced his gaze away to focus on their conversation before his imagination went wild.
“Born? I thought fae … sprung up from the earth.”
She giggled, explaining, “We do, but it's like a birth.”
“How so?”
Busying himself with his wet clothing, he risked a single glance in her direction to see her shrugging as she adjourned to a stack of suitcases near a tree. There, she shuffled through the contents while asking, “Do you know what a sprite is?”
“Not specifically. I only know they look like fairies.”
“That's true, from a distance anyway, and … oh! You just reminded me of an idea I had about helping Sutrelle. But we can discuss it later.”
Pulling her witch kit from her luggage, she set it on a tree stump nearby, then walked over, adding, “Sprites are spirits of nature, like tiny balls of instinctive energy that do little more than cause mischief for the sake of fun. But sometimes, when they find a place that hasn't been disturbed for many years, they enter the earth, planting themselves, and a fae is born.”
At that, she concluded, “So the earth literally nurtured me as I rose from the ground near a pond in Norway about three hundred years ago.”
Forgetting his wet clothing, Mathias stared at her, so intrigued by this ethereal female's early life in the natural world he asked without thinking, “Is that why you lack a navel?”
Glancing down at her stomach, Isadora pursed her lips. “How did you know I don't have a navel?”
“I saw it after you fell into the pool at that hotel.”
“Oh!” Giggling at the memory, she nodded. “Yep, that's the only way you can tell a wild fae from one who's mortal born.”
Mathias wasn't certain he understood her meaning, but decided not to ask for details just then. Instead, he wanted to know more about her early life, inquiring, “What about growing up? Were you ever a child?”
“Of course! I didn't spring up from the ground a full grown woman, though you'll never encounter a child fae. We're much too elusive and grow up quickly. I spent my childhood around the pond, learning about the world and keeping close friends with local wildlife.”
Forgetting his need to keep a distance, Mathias drew in to stand next to her, asking, “Then when did you start interacting with others?”
“Not for many years. The first person I ever encountered was a male Ferine who'd been injured in a fight and wandered into the area before passing out.”
She giggled as if the memory still intrigued her, adding, “I was very curious about him, and nursed him back to health.”
Jealousy as Mathias had never known it flared like the sun was burning in the pit of his stomach. Imagining her being so drawn to a werewolf of all things, and providing him with a gentle, healing hand was intolerable.
The fact must've been visible on his face as well because Isadora's eyes widened.
“What's wrong? You look so angry all of a sudden.”
Attempting to school his expression, he waved the question away and asked, “Did you become friends?”
Now, she frowned with her nod. “We did, and he even taught me to speak Dutch, my first language. But he never found his mate and ended up going Savage.”
“I see,” Mathias drew out. Any werewolf that didn't locate a mate before their two hundredth birthday couldn't keep their bestial instincts under control, and became a danger to everyone in their path. It wasn't a topic Mathias fully understood, but he knew all who suffered that fate were executed.
So he apologized despite his earlier envy, and found Isadora smiling again.
“It's okay. I'm still friends with his clan, and they're the ones who helped me find a name!”
“And how is that?” he asked, reminded of his curiosity over the matter.
“The first time I left my home was to meet his pack, and I knew very little of the outside world, including the reason people wore clothing.”
Snickering as if she knew how scandalous that sounded, she went on, “I was still learning English at the time, so when I amused the pack alpha by putting on her clothing the wrong way, she commented on my antics by saying she is adorable. That's when I started repeating the phrase, faster and faster, until it made sense.”
To make her point, she recited, “She is adorable, is adorable, isadorable isadora-isadora—ISADORA!”
At the last, she hopped excitedly and concluded with a snicker, “So that's what everyone started calling me.”
Leaning against the stump where her witch kit was located, he grinned and remarked, “It sounds as if you were adorable, among other things.”
“Other things?” Gazing up at him curiously, the fae asked, “Like what?”
Beautiful, charming, irresistible … . He just checked a groan in realizing where his thoughts had gone, ready to tell her it didn’t matter. But Isadora distracted him by reaching up to draw her fingers across the stubble lining his jaw, her smile fading in remarking, “Because I think you’re very handsome.”
His heart flip-flopped like a fish out of water. It was such a simple compliment, and yet something about the way she spoke the words was touching. Despite his uncertainties, he was flattered—not every man would have the fortune of receiving such genuine praise from a fae.
But for as much as he wanted to return her obvious flirtation, the comment served as a stark reminder of the one thing he most wanted to know, and least wanted to find out.
Still, he grasped her hand and pulled it from his cheek, steadily holding her gaze with the question, “You lied, didn't you?”
Isadora blinked. “Lied?”
“About your arousal in the Spire. It's not just a rare occurrence, is it?”
“Oh, that,” she drew out, and her pulse quickened until her cheeks turned pink—a beautiful sight that made him even more grateful for the masking potion concealing her scent. Otherwise, it would've bloomed with her blush, and likely caused her impending answer to fly over his head.
But despite her obvious shyness, she didn't hesitate to confirm his suspicions with a nod that set his pulse racing.
“I did lie, and I'm sorry. I just didn't think it was the right time for a confession, but no, fae are never physically aroused until they've found a suitable mate.”
Her apology was unnecessary. He both knew and understood the reasons she'd hid the truth, though the words were still confounding, even as she added, “But before you say anything, believe me, I know how strange this is. I've never once heard of a fae finding a suitable mate in a vampire. Still, Mathias, you're so—”
“Enough,” he interrupted on a hard tone, unwilling to hear the reasons she believed he was fitting. As it stood, learning she found him desirable was the next-to-last straw on the camel's back before it broke under the weight. He was already desperate for a reason to make a move, to claim this fae as his own, and if she described why it could work? That camel doesn't stand a chance.
But Isadora wasn't letting the topic go, asking, “How is that enough? We can't just ignore it, Mathias, no matter how … weird it seems.”
He knew that, too. How hard have I tried? Sighing loudly, he nearly said so, but stopped short in recalling she still didn't know he'd detected a lover's blood link
the night he found her in Dalris' gallery.
But was it a good idea to keep her in the dark over the matter? Particularly when she'd already determined he'd make a suitable match—and gods only knew he'd never understand how any of this was possible.
Regardless, she seemed to have no trouble embracing it, stating, “Besides, I'm not sure this is as strange as it seems. The vampires here are so different from those in Terra. You treat mortals with respect and don't hurt them, and all I've ever heard of are the ones who torture people for fun. Those are the vampires I want nothing to do with, and as for you, I think it's pretty obvious you wouldn't hurt me, though I know you'll argue.”
“Of course I would,” he quickly agreed. “I may be restrained, Isadora, but it's not without cost. So tell me why you think you're not in danger? Because I didn't drain you in the ruin?”
Irritatingly, she gave a definitive nod, and he grumbled, pacing a few steps away while rubbing his forehead in thought. Sadly, there was no denying the logic in her point—Heliger postulated that instinct had driven him not to harm his cherished lover, and he couldn't dismiss the possibility.
But he also couldn't throw caution to the wind without solid evidence.
So he muttered, “That's no guarantee, Isadora, and just how am I suitable anyway? I couldn't even give you children.”
There was a brief pause before Isadora asked, “Why does that matter?”
Casting a confused look back, he realized the question was serious by her expression.
“Don't you want them?”
“I've never wanted them before,” Isadora started casually, walking over with the words, “I mean babies are cute, don't get me wrong, but procreation isn't a requisite of having a relationship, and I'm not looking to start a daycare service.”
Pursing his lips, he conceded, “Fair enough, but what if you changed your mind?”
She shrugged. “There are plenty of children in need of parents, and I could take one in to raise as my own. Besides, you have Maddox, though … it'd be really weird having an older vampire call me Mom.”
Isadora muttered the last, staring to the side as if having trouble imagining it, and Mathias almost smiled. But his concern over the matters at hand was still too prevalent to allow it.
“Very well, children aren't an issue. But tell me, Isadora, if you could honestly live with a male who desires both your body and your blood, who couldn't come out during daylight hours if we journeyed back to Terra, and lives in a realm filled with vampires, putting you in constant danger.”
“It's not as if vampires don't live in Terra, Mathias,” she retorted. “I've hidden from them all my life, and okay, so maybe Terra's bigger and they can't come out during the day there, but it's not that different. As for drinking my blood, uh … .”
Trailing as if uncertain, her gaze dropped, and for a moment, Mathias thought he'd finally won an argument. Being a source of food wasn't anymore appealing to Isadora than sleeping in a cemetery.
But she quickly proved him wrong when her hands slipped up against his sides with the whispered words, “I wanted to ask you about that. I mean, when you drank it before, did you notice anything … unusual?”
The fae stepped in closer, until their bodies were mere inches from pressing together, and if that didn't shake him, the way she cast those glittering, ocean blue eyes up so expectantly certainly did.
The sight rattled him until he only heard himself saying, “I wasn't precisely coherent, Isadora, so no, not that I recall. But what do you mean by unusual?”
Pursing her lips, she explained, “I mean like a blood link. I thought if you drank my blood, you might discover one.”
Again, he'd forgotten her ignorance over the fact that such a link was in play, and though it went against every fiber of his being, it seemed wrong to continue denying her the information when she was aware of the possibility.
Besides, he'd tried every other avenue available to convince her to keep a distance, and nothing had worked. So maybe if she realized just how hard he'd fought to ignore this link, she'd better understand.
It seemed like a long shot, but at this point, he'd try anything.
— TWENTY-FOUR —
Isadora thought she’d prepared for any reaction her confession garnered. Yet Mathias had a confession of his own, and its implication was baffling.
“Drinking your blood isn't necessary, Isadora.”
Hearing this, her brows drew together in uncertainty. “But I thought you said it's found in the blood.”
“It is,” he started with a solemn mien, adding, “and all vampires can detect a blood link by scent alone. But tasting it is only required of younger vampires to learn what type of link they have.”
“Younger vampires?” Hesitating, she inquired, “So not you?”
“No, I've never needed to drink to determine the type of link. All I need is the scent,” he trailed, locking his gaze on hers with the words, “and I've known since the night I found you in Dalris' gallery that we have a lover's blood link, Isadora.”
Her eyes widened, jaw dropping. “You've known this since I was technically still under Sylva's spell?”
“I have.”
Incredulous, Isadora stared at him with no idea what to think, or to say. All this time … . The notion was baffling, particularly in recalling their encounters after meeting at the Citadel. Nothing Mathias had done truly suggested he'd found a lover. Instead, he'd tried to intimidate her, pushed her away at every turn, and offered constant reminders of how dangerous he was.
On the other hand, she'd never understood why he'd saved her life so many times either, and somehow, the thought brought everything together.
“That's why you saved my life!” she exclaimed. “You knew we had a link, but wanted to push me away because you feared hurting me!”
“I … it's not that simple,” he muttered. “You're also a friend of Victoria—”
“Oh!” she interrupted when another memory surfaced, peering up at him uncertainly. “Maddox said you returned to Sutrelle the same night I was stabbed, and didn't intend on ever coming back to Terra. Was that … because of me?”
His jaw tensed as if unsure he should give an honest answer, but he finally nodded.
“It was. I had to put you out of reach, otherwise risk causing you harm.”
She truly didn't know what to say, and though her head spun with this new influx of information, her thoughts soon centered on Maddox and Stephan. The vampiress mentioned being unable to stand the thought of leaving her lover alone for prolonged periods of time, but Mathias endeavored to endure such a separation because he didn't want her to suffer.
And her heart melted.
During the thoughts, the vampire started, “So now do you understand why—”
“You're so sweet!” she rasped, grabbing him in a tight hug despite his utterly baffled expression.
“I … sweet? Isadora, I didn't do it to be—”
“I don't care why you did it. It's still sweet, and I … .”
Trailing, she looked up into his eyes and confessed with every confidence, “I want to kiss you, Mathias.”
His mirror-like gaze darkened in response, as if ready to protest, or tear himself away to put space between them in the effort of protecting her—and she finally understood his concern.
After spending the past three days dealing with her newfound urges, she'd learned a great deal about the difficulties of resisting temptation. Imagining what it would be like to share another kiss and take things even further had her so aroused it was painful. So he'd likely tried to put as much distance between them as possible to curb his urges, and the only thing she didn't know was whether vampires related blood and sex, or if Mathias feared any loss of control. One thing leads to another after all.
But she didn't question the matter for long. Instead, while gazing into his eyes, she soon found herself locked in a desperate kiss that happened so quickly she almost stumbled.
As if a dam had bur
st, the vampire leaned in and captured her mouth with a loud, virile groan in the back of his throat. The sound was so suggestive she let a muffled whimper in response, clutching him tight. Their tongues met, sliding together until her knees buckled, as if kissing this vampire and standing at the same time wasn't possible.
Still, he seemed just as incapable, sinking to his knees as his hands drew up and down her back. Simultaneously, his mouth parted from hers to kiss a path up to her pointed ear, nibbling the tip in a manner that left her reeling.
“Mathias!”
His only response was a low growl that amplified her daze. If this was just the start of what an intimate encounter between them might entail, it was questionable how she'd ever last. The sound of his deep groan was enough to drive her mad, to say nothing for the way his big hands urgently groped her body.
The attention left her far too rattled to even question how such simple touches could feel so good and yet maddening at once. His exploration brought on the desire to learn the shape of his own body, to feel his heated skin beneath her fingers and touch every part of him she found.
But his shirt was in the way, and at the moment, a five page diagram wouldn't have been enough to explain how buttons worked.
Still, the matter was forgotten when his hands slid down over her back until his fingers gripped her ass, clutching in a greedy manner that made her wish her own clothing would magically disappear.
“Mathias! I'm … if you … ,” she started, quickly realizing words were beyond her, and the only phrase that even remotely explained the way she felt was, “I want you!”
A low growl escaped the vampire's throat, which was strangely arousing despite her inability to sense what it meant. Was he in the same state of arousal? Or did he simply find her confession pleasing?
Her inability to tell brought to mind their encounter in the ruin, and how she'd sensed Mathias as a living presence after he'd taken her blood. The effect hadn't lasted long, but if he took more regularly, would it become permanent?
Tempting Eternity Page 19
