Lachlan

by D. B. Reynolds

  He shrugged inwardly, thinking they’d find out about her tolerance for bloodshed soon enough. Because once the two of them returned to Edinburgh, the battle would begin. Erskine had spies, just as Lachlan did. The Scottish lord had to know Lachlan was planning a coup. The visit to Raphael would have been the final stroke. If Erskine had an ounce of strategic skill left—which might be doubtful—he’d attack first, trying to cut the head off the snake. Lachlan would have to be ready from the moment they touched down in Edinburgh. If Julia truly meant to come along, she’d be getting her bloody baptism far sooner than she might expect.

  A slender feminine hand slid a shot glass into his view. He looked up to find Julia giving him a hesitant smile. “A toast?” she asked softly. “To a successful partnership.”

  He held her gaze for a moment, then took the shot glass and clicked it against the one she held. “To us,” he amended. He had a lot more in mind for her than one successful venture.

  Her pupils widened, but she held off her blush until after she’d tossed the shot back, then blamed it on the alcohol. “Whew.” She fanned herself with one hand. “I don’t do those often.”

  Lachlan stood and reached for her glass. “You’ll need another now, for Leighton’s toast.”

  “Oh, I don’t think—”

  “Don’t worry, princess. You’ll be perfectly safe with me.”

  Was that disappointment he saw in her eyes? Or maybe it was simply the first signs of inebriation, and his ego was overinflated. Nah. Chuckling to himself, he crossed to the bar and picked up the bottle of vodka. Leighton ambled over as he was pouring.

  “You know, I’ve been on Mr. Harper’s plane. He has vodka there, too,” she commented.

  Lachlan gave her a lazy glance. “Since your toast was meant to wish luck on my endeavor, I thought it only polite to partake.”

  “Yours and Julia’s endeavor.”

  He dipped his head in silent acknowledgement as he poured.

  Leighton came even closer and leaned into whisper, “If you get her hurt, I’ll hunt you down.”

  He looked up, unperturbed by her threat. “If you really care about your friend, you’ll persuade her to stay in Edinburgh, and let me deal out the revenge.”

  She blinked, obviously not expecting his reaction, then narrowed her eyes. “But then you wouldn’t have her daddy’s fancy plane, would you? Or her money.”

  Lachlan’s own gaze narrowed. He got it. Leighton thought she was protecting her friend. Or maybe she was testing him. But she was pushing it too far with her suggestion that he was somehow using Julia for her money. As if Julia would ever permit that to happen. Either Leighton didn’t know her friend very well, or she had a low opinion of Julia’s courage. And neither of those was acceptable to him.

  Straightening to his full height, he regarded Raphael’s mate and slammed down a shield over his anger, lest the vampire lord sense a threat. “Look,” he said tightly, keeping his voice low enough not to be easily overheard by the vampires in the room. “You’ve got it all wrong. Julia came to me, not the other way around. She offered to facilitate contact with Raphael, in exchange for me letting her join in on my hunt for Erskine Ross. As for the other—” He set the vodka bottle down and screwed on the cap. “I’m nearly two hundred years old, with a knack for spotting market trends, woman. I don’t need Julia’s plane or her money. So like I said, if you really care about her, you’ll persuade her to let me do the vengeance seeking.”

  Picking up the two brimming shot glasses, he gave her a final look. “My thanks for your assistance and hospitality. Now, I’m going to join the others for the toast that you suggested.” So saying, he crossed back to stand next to Julia and handed her one of the drinks, which she accepted, holding one hand under the glass as she balanced the full shot.

  “What’d Cyn say to you?” she asked, with a suspicious glance that told him she’d probably guessed what the exchange had involved.

  “She’s your friend. She’s worried about you.”

  Julia tsked in exasperation. “I swear, she thinks I was born and raised like a hot house orchid. Don’t believe her. I’m not that fragile.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “And I’m sorry I embarrassed you earlier, about the whole feeding thing. I didn’t mean to make a big deal of it.”

  He studied her sincere expression, not knowing whether to be angry or amused at the idea that he’d been embarrassed when she’d asked about feeding from a live donor. Or had it been fucking the donor afterward?

  “Let’s get a few things straight, princess. One, I didn’t feed from any of the provided women. I wasn’t hungry. Two, I sure as hell didn’t fuck any of them, and three, I don’t fuck any woman when I have my sights set on another.” He lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers as she stared up at him. “And now, I believe Raphael is about to speak.”

  He swung around to face Raphael and Leighton, who stood together behind the desk, as the vampire lord raised his glass. “To the next Lord of Scotland.”

  “Slàinte,” Lachlan said. He raised the glass to his lips, tossed the smooth liquid heat down his throat, and turned to Julia. “Time to go, love.”

  She drained the last of her own vodka, then walked over and set the glass on the bar, upside down. “I’m ready.”

  Chapter Eight

  On a plane, somewhere over the Atlantic

  JULIA SAT ACROSS from Lachlan, trying to study him without being obvious about it. He’d opened his laptop almost as soon as they’d boarded, saying something about making use of the jet’s Wi-Fi now that they were away from Raphael’s estate. She took that to mean he didn’t trust the vampire lord, even though they were allies. Or were they?

  “What happened in that secret vampires-only meeting you had with Raphael? Are you guys allies or not?”

  “It wasn’t secret,” he said, without looking away from his keyboard. “You could have stayed, if you’d wanted.”

  “I probably got more information out of Cyn. She says you guys talk in circles. I don’t know about that, but I can tell there’s a lot more going on than what you say out loud.”

  Lachlan looked up then, with a smile that took her breath away. He didn’t always smile like that, but when he did . . . . Damn.

  “Vampires are mostly old. Raphael’s somewhere around five hundred, Jared and the others at least as old as I am. People spoke differently when we were human. And then there’s the cultural and language differences. We speak in circles to be sure everyone’s hearing the same thing.”

  “Uh huh. Nice try. I think you’re testing each other by saying the same thing ten different ways.”

  He laughed. Wow. This was a banner day for Lachlan viewing. That was also the first time she’d seen him really laugh. What little breath she had left fled her lungs. Thinking she had to get away before she embarrassed herself, she stood saying, “I’m going to get some tea. You want anything?” Bad choice of words, Jules! she chastised herself as Lachlan let his gaze travel slowly up and down her body, before meeting her eyes.

  “What’s on the menu, princess?” he purred.

  She stood there, staring at him in unaccustomed confusion. Her chest was tight, her nipples tighter, and rush of desire had her thighs clenching against a sudden, sexual hunger. She’d had plenty of lovers, but couldn’t remember a single time when she’d wanted a man like she wanted Lachlan McRae. And the look in his eyes said he knew it.

  He stood without warning, his big body so close, so damn masculine, as he stared down at her, those changeable eyes seeming limned with gold in the dim light. “What do you want, Julia?” he murmured, not touching her, not even reaching for her, and yet she could feel the weight of his gaze like a firm stroke of his fingers along her bare skin.

  She licked her lips, admitting to herself that she was nervous. Scared? Maybe
some of that, too. Hell, maybe all he wanted to do was kiss her. He’d done that right in front of everyone in Raphael’s office, so why not here? She moved a tiny bit closer, placed a hand on his broad chest, and tilted her head back to meet his golden stare. “A kiss?” she whispered.

  He studied her silently for so long that Julia sensed the heat of a blush creeping up her neck. Feeling foolish, she was just about to back away when he placed a hand on her hip, holding her in place. His grip wasn’t tight, but his fingers were so strong and gave off so much heat that she felt them like hot iron against her skin. Weren’t vampires supposed to be cold? She banished the stupid thought. This wasn’t some movie special. This was real life, and vampire or not, Lachlan was a real live male who was about to kiss her.

  He lowered his head slowly, as if wary of startling her into shying away. But she wasn’t going anywhere. She wanted this vampire, wanted to know what it would be like to make love to a man who’d had near two hundred years to hone his kissing skills.

  In retrospect, she should have known better.

  Lachlan put his lips against hers, softly at first, and Julia had a fleeting moment of disappointment. Maybe he didn’t want her at all. Maybe—Oh, God. The kiss deepened, his mouth pressing harder, tongue sliding along her lips, demanding entry. She opened her mouth and his tongue swept in, skimming over her teeth, teasing her tongue, tempting her to dance. Julia heard herself moan as she went up on her toes and accepted the invitation, her tongue stabbing into his mouth hungrily. Her arms went around his neck as she fought to get closer, her fingers tangled in his hair, breasts brushing the hard muscles of his chest.

  He kissed like a man who knew precisely how to please a woman, how to stroke his tongue over hers with a sensuality that made her yearn for more, how to pull his mouth away so that she was the one pushing for another caress of his lips. But he didn’t yank her nearer, didn’t crush her against his much bigger body. Didn’t give any sign that he wanted something more from her.

  Maybe she hadn’t gone looking for anything more. She wasn’t sure herself. But why didn’t he want her? Her thoughts churned, too lost in the sensuality of his kiss to see the illogic of them. She finally bit his lip in confused frustration, not hard enough to break skin, just enough to get his attention.

  Lachlan growled, low and dangerous, a rumble of sound that vibrated against her chest as his hold on her hip tightened even further. She suddenly found herself pressed against the long length of his body, her breasts crushed against his chest, aroused nipples pushed against him so hard that she knew he could feel them through his t-shirt. His hand moved from her hip to her back, pulling her impossibly closer, squeezing the breath from her lungs, until she was gasping into his mouth. But Lachlan didn’t stop. His other hand dropped to her butt, fingers spread wide, slamming her against him until there wasn’t so much as a wisp of air between them. Then the thick jut of his cock settled against her belly like an ultimatum, a statement . . .

  You started this, princess. Now finish it or step away for good.

  She should do the latter. She should step back and forget all about him. Walk away when they reached Edinburgh, and wait until news came that Lachlan had killed Erskine for his own reasons. But that wasn’t what she did.

  Rising up on her toes, she bit him again. Harder this time, until she felt her teeth sink into the flesh of his lip, felt the warm rush of his blood against her tongue. Desire stormed through her body like a flame, heating every muscle, lighting up every nerve ending, filling her with a carnal hunger that had wet heat pooling between her thighs. She ground herself against him, frantic in her need to vanquish her body’s craving.

  “What do you want from me, Julia?” he murmured against her lips.

  She cried out wordlessly. Why wouldn’t he give her what she needed? Why was he forcing her to beg for it?

  “Say it, princess. And I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you everything.”

  “Bastard,” she whispered.

  His only response was an evil chuckle before he bent his head and sucked on her neck, while his fingers pinched the taut peak of a swollen nipple, the lace of her bra scraping the delicate skin and heightening the sensation unbearably. And still she pushed against his hand, wanting more.

  “Damn it,” she breathed. She didn’t know what to do with all these feelings, all this raw lust. Then his fingers slid to her other breast, squeezing hard as he strummed her nipple to an engorged peak of need. She growled out a scream of surrender, then thumped her fist against his shoulder and cried, “Fuck me.”

  Before she could draw her next breath, he’d swung her up into his arms and was striding down the narrow aisle as if it was a marbled hall, pressing the latch and shoving through the doorway to the back section of the plane without losing a step, pushing the bedroom door open with a swiveled hip.

  Julia was aware of the blackness settling around them as Lachlan carried her into the bedroom, her lips fused to his, their mouths caught up in a kiss that was as much a battle for dominance as any kind of affection. They might not be in love, maybe they didn’t even like each other, but they sure as hell wanted each other. Lachlan placed one knee on the bed and lowered her to the mattress, following her down until his full weight rested on top of her. One muscled thigh slid between her legs, his knee shoved up until he was grinding against her pussy, heightening the soaring need screaming through her body, taking her right to the edge, and then backing off, refusing to give her release.

  “Lachlan,” she demanded angrily, although it came out as more of a breathless plea.

  “You’re wearing too many clothes,” he murmured. “I want to see every inch of that creamy skin, those hard nipples. Are they pink like your lips?”

  Julia would have ripped off every stitch of clothing if it would have gotten her the climax she needed.

  He bent his head, his lips against her ear. “What about your pussy, princess? Is it pink, too? And tasty? I’m going to find out.”

  She nearly came when his knee rolled firmly over her clit while he whispered those dark, erotic words. Nearly screamed in fury when he stood, leaving her alone on the bed, desire a storm that threatened to bleed through her pores.

  Lachlan chuckled, and she almost came to her knees intent on mayhem, but then he ripped his t-shirt over his head, baring a fabulous chest that she could barely glimpse in the darkened room. She reached for the light, wanting more, when she heard the slide of his belt, the rasp of his zipper.

  “Take your clothes off, or I will,” he said, his voice so harsh with desire that it was more animal than human.

  Julia abandoned the light, rolling to the other side of the bed and coming to her feet, fingers already on the buttons of her blouse while she kicked off her shoes, leaving her blouse half undone as she reached for the zipper on her jeans, thumbs hooking into her panties as she shoved everything down and kicked it aside. She was fumbling with her blouse, when Lachlan knelt on the bed and reached for her, lifting her easily, sliding her beneath him as he tore her blouse open, scattering buttons and making her heart pound with excitement. A moment later, the front catch of her bra was gone and his mouth was on her breast, his arm under her thigh, pushing it high and wide as his hips settled between her legs. The heavy weight of his erection rubbed the slick flesh of her sex and she thrust her hips upward, wanting him inside her.

  He closed his teeth over her nipple in warning. “Not yet. Not even close.” She felt his lips stretch into a smile a moment before he slid downward, licking and kissing every inch of her skin until he met the swell of her mound, waxed to a silky perfection. “Oh, I like this, princess.” His whisper brushed over her bared pussy, making her shiver.

  And then she could only struggle to breathe, to swallow the screams of passion as she clutched the sheets, switching her grip to his hair when she thought she’d go mad if he licked her one more time, if his teeth graze
d her clit or his clever lips sucked that sensitive pearl just to the edge of ecstasy one more time without letting her climax. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, her thighs slick and sticky, when he finally slid up her body, his cock sliding through the lust-swollen lips of her pussy as if to cover it in the hot, wet cream of her arousal.

  He kissed her, long and slow, letting her taste herself on his lips, on his tongue, before lifting his head to stare at her with that golden gaze. “What do you want?”

  “Fuck me,” she whispered again, hoping this time he would, that he was done teasing her.

  He smiled and pushed his cock into her body in a slow and steady glide, as if aware of his thickness straining against her tight sheath. But Julia didn’t want slow and steady, and she didn’t give a damn about how tight she was.

  “Harder,” she demanded.

  He stared at her, his eyes flaring a brilliant gold, and then he pulled his cock back and slammed it into her greedy, drenched pussy, not stopping until he was balls deep and her inner muscles were stretched achingly tight. But Lachlan didn’t hesitate. Didn’t pause to let her body adjust. He simply dragged his cock back and pounded it in again, hooking her legs over his arms and holding her wide as he fucked her harder with every thrust.

  Julia reached over her head, clinging to the headboard with eyes closed, unable to do anything else, even if she’d wanted to. She loved the weight of him crushing her to the mattress, the raw fury of his fucking, the driving strength of his powerful body. She was a slender woman, delicately boned, with pale blond hair and skin to match. Past lovers had always treated her like a fragile thing that would shatter if they pushed too hard or squeezed too tightly. But not Lachlan. For all that he called her “princess,” he didn’t fuck her like one. He fucked her. It was deep and hard, and rode the edge of violence. He made her feel like a desirable woman, a woman who could push a man to the kind of madness that left him thinking of nothing but sex.