A Night of Forever

by Lori Brighton

  Aidan focused on him. Their leader. He pierced the man’s soul with his gaze and relished when the man shivered. He could hear the rapid beat of his heart, practically taste his fear. His bald head glistened with sweat, his swollen belly pushing against the seams of his black jacket as he panted.

  Growling low in his throat, Aidan gripped the bars harder and pulled them apart. The screech of metal interrupted the sound of snarling wolves below. The bars parted easily under his strength, far enough that he could fit through. The feminine screams turned high-pitched. Fear vibrated the very air around him. He would see they all paid. But not now. No, he had more important things to worry about.

  Aidan released his hold and fell, landing in a crouched position on the ground. Slowly, he lifted his head, focusing on the wolves. One was lying upon the ground, bleeding, still. The other was limping its way toward Mary Ellen. She drew her knees to her chest, her face pale in the torchlight, her whimper heart-wrenching.

  With a cry of outrage, Aidan burst forward, teeth bared. He hit the wolf before the animal sensed him coming. The beast rolled to its side, taking Aidan with him. Crushed beneath his weight would have killed a lesser man, but Aidan wasn’t exactly human. Aidan shoved his palms into the animal’s side. The wolf flew across the room, hitting the stone wall with a thump. The animal cried out, sliding to the ground.

  Aidan jumped to his feet. “Mary Ellen, now!” He held out his hand.

  She stumbled upright, her body quivering with fear and exhaustion, but her eyes were trusting, so damn trusting. He reached her in one step, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her up hard against him. The werewolf was regaining his feet, his gaze locked to them.

  Aidan glanced up at the windows, the spectators were gone, leaving behind only a trail of terror and regret.

  “Hold tight,” Aidan said. “It’s going to get interesting.”

  ****

  As Aidan raced forward, headed toward the wall, Mary Ellen faded into darkness. It wasn’t until the cool night air whispered lovingly over her face that she stirred. How very odd she felt, floating between darkness and light. She knew Aidan still held her, she could sense his presence and breathed in his spicy scent. She knew that somehow they had escaped certain death, yet couldn’t manage to dredge up enough energy to care.

  “Mary Ellen, open your eyes.”

  The pressure of Aidan’s arms lessened and she felt her body sliding down his hard form. The friction caused an odd heat to fill her veins. She had the sudden desire to be closer to him, to wrap her arms around his waist and never let go. Her feet hit the ground and she opened her eyes. His beautiful blue gaze watched her as if he cared. Did he care? Was Sally right? Or had he merely saved her because she was Grayson’s sister-in-law?

  He reached over her shoulder and pushed open the door to a large cottage.

  “Where are we?” she asked, her voice soft, weak. Why was she so weak? The night sky above practically spun and she couldn’t quite feel her body.

  “You need to regain your strength.” He scooped her up, cradling her against his chest and carried her into a foyer. A dingy, dusty place, but even she could tell that with a little polish it would be rather pretty. A curved oaken staircase, wooden floors, even a country mural on the walls.

  She had little time to study the cottage before Aidan carried her up the stairs. Exhausted, Mary Ellen rested her head on his shoulder, and sank into him, trusting the man. “Where are you taking me?”

  He made his way into a long hall. “So many questions.” He smiled down at her, a kind, soft smile that belied the beast she’d seen in that dungeon. What was he? Angel or Devil?

  At the end of the hall he stepped into a large bedchamber. Although the room was rather empty, the space was clean, the bed made, as if someone had lived here, or was planning to. “Who dwells here?”

  “I will, soon.”

  Surprised, she didn’t fight him when he laid her upon the large, four-poster bed. Did that mean he’d be leaving them? She felt completely angry and bereft at the thought. How dare he abandon her, now of all times!

  “Lay back,” he demanded when she struggled to sit up. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

  Lost blood? To him, she realized with a start. Mary Ellen sank into the bed. He’d fed on her. Her blood pulsed through his body. She should have been disgusted, so why was she oddly touched? Why did she feel closer to him than no woman should feel toward a man she wasn’t married to?

  He settled beside her upon the bed, his thigh pressed to hers and even though their clothing separated their skin, she felt his heat all the way to her toes. Gently, he brushed the hair from her forehead. Chills and heat swirled through her body, pooling into an aching need low in her gut. Even in her muddled mind she realized this man wasn’t meek and passive. This man would fight for her. Most importantly, this man would fight for life. He would not be bowed down with hardship.

  “Mary Ellen, I need you to do something for me.”

  Odd thoughts swirled through her head as the bed lulled her into its softness. Her lashes drifted down, her eyes so bloody tired. Her body cold, numb, so she wasn’t sure where she began and ended. She felt as if she dreamt. A beautiful dream.

  “Mary Ellen,” he snapped.

  “Hmm?” she managed.

  Warm hands cupped the sides of her face. “Listen to me, Mary Ellen. Please, keep your eyes open.”

  But her lashes felt so heavy, her mind buzzing with a numbness she couldn’t ignore. “You’re so warm.” She turned her face into his hand.

  “Because of your blood. Our bodies warm when we feed.”

  “Oh,” she whispered, too tired to react properly to that odd statement. “I just need a little nap, all right?”

  “No, not all right. Listen to me. I took too much blood.” She didn’t miss the way his voice caught with what could only be regret. “You need to do something for me, all right?”

  “Right,” she murmured, wanting so badly to listen to him, to understand the emotion she swore she heard in his voice.

  He lifted his arm and put his wrist to his mouth, using his teeth he scraped a line across the pale skin. Brilliant red blood welled from the wound. Aghast, Mary Ellen used her remaining strength in an attempt to sit upright. “What are you doing? Stop!” The movement was too much. The entire room spun and Aidan faded from view. She felt his strong hands pushing her back into the mattress. So tired, she let him.

  “Drink.”

  She dared to lift her lashes. His wounded arm was in front of her, an offering of sorts. A strange offering. She wasn’t sure if she should be disgusted, or honored.

  “Will drinking your blood turn me into one of you?” she managed.

  “A vampire? No. A person is born this way.” He cupped the back of her head with his uninjured arm. “But it will give you life, and strength.”

  “I see.” But she didn’t see, she didn’t understand anything other than, for some reason, Aidan wanted her to drink his blood.

  He sighed. “You must drink, do you understand? You must, in order to regain your strength.”

  She nodded, but her eyelids were growing so heavy, her lashes fluttering down. The entire world seemed to be fading away. Something warm pressed to her lips. The coppery taste of blood raced across her tongue, but somehow different…almost sweet. Her cravings stirred and she eagerly swept her tongue across Aidan’s wrist. His blood. Her blood. The taste surged through her. An unfamiliar desperation urged her to drink more.

  Her fingers found his arm and she gripped his wrist, bringing him closer. Aidan’s blood pulsed through her body, filling her soul, bringing her back to life. Her very fingers and toes tingled with awareness as if she was coming back from a long, deep sleep. His warm body rested beside her. She could feel his heart pound against her, inside her, everywhere. They were one.

  As warmth filled her soul, sated, she pulled back, falling into the pillows. It was as if she’d just awoken from a very deep sleep. As if she’d ju
st feasted upon the best meal of her life. Dust particles floated like flakes of silver on moonbeams coming in through the open windows. Aidan’s lovely face peered down at her. She had never seen anyone so beautiful. Unable to resist, she reached out and smoothed her fingers down the side of his face, marveling over the feel of a new growth of whiskers on his cheeks.

  “You’re better?” he asked, his gaze filled with concern…and something else…something that made her insides practically melt.

  “Yes.”

  He swallowed hard, his gaze searching her eyes. “Mary Ellen, there are things I need to explain—”

  She latched onto his shirt and pulled him forward, pressing her lips to his. She didn’t want an explanation, she wanted him. What could he possibly need to explain? His warm body sank into her, molding to her form as if they fit together like puzzle pieces. When his velvet tongue slipped between her lips, she opened for him, deepening the kiss. Oh, how she needed this… needed him.

  With a groan that stirred her lust, he wedged his knee between her thighs, spreading her legs as wide as her skirts would allow. Why had she never taken the time to soak in his spicy scent? How had she not noticed how muscled his body was underneath the layers of his clothing? And how had she not noticed how truly brave he was?

  Because she’d kept her distance and she knew why now… she was afraid of falling for the man. A man with no connections, no family, no money. Afraid she’d end up poor and miserable.

  Money no longer seemed important. She was no longer fighting her attraction. It didn’t matter that she had lived in poverty most of her life and had sworn never to again. It didn’t matter that her eldest sister had died in childbirth after eloping with a poor Irishman. None of that matter but him. Aidan. The man who had risked his life for her. The man who had given her his blood.

  His warm hands moved up her legs, bunching the material of her skirts.

  “Clothing, all these layers,” she muttered against his mouth. “Are completely overdone.”

  Chuckling, he pushed himself up and ripped the shirt from his torso, tossing the poor garment to the floor. His chest was wide, carved muscle. Like a work of art. Unable to resist, Mary Ellen sat upright and ran her hands over his skin, spreading her fingers through the crisp hair while he worked the buttons on the back of her bodice.

  “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” he whispered into her ear, a soft breath that tickled the loose tendrils.

  Instead of being thrilled, his words brought tears of regret to her eyes. How stupid she’d been. He wanted her. She wanted him, she’d just taken longer to admit her feelings. Blast it all, she couldn’t hold back anymore. Her bodice came loose and he tossed it to the floor where his shirt lay. When his hands moved to her corset, her fingers boldly found the clasp of his trousers, their hands in a frantic race.

  “I’ve dreamt about you night after night,” he whispered.

  Her corset came undone and was tossed to the pile of clothing on the floor.

  “I think about you during the day.” His hands cupped her breasts, her nipples beaded and hard through the thin fabric of her shift.

  Mary Ellen moaned as a heated flush rushed through her body and pooled in that feminine spot between her legs. She’d been attracted to men before, but never allowed herself to act upon the feelings. Every impure thought she’d had toward Aidan since meeting him, every feeling she’d tried to repress, surged through her body in a dizzying whirl that left her breathless.

  “You’re so lovely.” His mouth caught hers once more as his hands found the smooth skin where her stockings ended. He had her garters undone with a flick of his fingers. As his hand moved toward that nest of curls shielding her femininity, he deepened the kiss.

  His fingers found her wet and ready. Mary Ellen gasped, arching her back and taking him deeper. He knew exactly where to touch her, how much pressure to apply, what words to whisper. Entranced in a state of utter bliss, she didn’t protest when he drew the silk stockings down her legs. Nothing but her shift remained.

  She knew she should have been embarrassed, but God help her, she only wanted more of him, all of him. Mary Ellen reached for the waistband of his trousers and pulled them down his hips, far enough that the hard bulge she’d felt pressing to her thighs was freed. Tentatively, she reached for his erection. A friend had showed her a book of erotic drawings once, but those drawings had been nothing compared to the reality. His body was like pure stone, muscles carved from marble. He was a work of art to be admired. She drew her fingers down his shaft, marveling over the hard velvet feel of him.

  “You’re going to kill me with your sweetness.” With a groan, he lowered himself, his body pressing her into the bed. Their gazes met and held, his eyes intense, so intense. “I know I shouldn’t do this. I’m a bloody bastard for taking advantage of you, but I don’t care. I want you, and you will be mine.”

  His words brought a heated thrill through her form. He pressed his lips to hers in a searing kiss as his hands dragged her shift down her body. The hair on his chest tickled her nipples and made her breasts grow heavy. Hard and soft, the stark contrast of their bodies was completely erotic. His hands moved up her thighs to the curls hiding her femininity.

  “So lovely,” he whispered as his finger slipped between her damp folds. “So ready.”

  When his thumb found the sensitive nub, Mary Ellen cried out, arching her back. Pleasure after pleasure rippled through her body. How did he know exactly where to touch her?

  “Say you want me,” he demanded.

  “Yes, please, Aidan. Please.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, adoring the way the moonlight hit the angles of his fierce face. A lock of dark hair had fallen across his forehead, but did little to soften his features. How could she have ever thought he was dull and weak?

  “Tell me you’ll be mine forever,” he demanded.

  A shiver of awareness moved through her body. She knew he meant the words. She knew by agreeing she was binding herself to him forever. God help her, she wanted to. “Yes.”

  He shoved his knee between her smooth thighs. The thick head of his erection pressed to her folds, the shaft like warm velvet against her sensitive skin. She couldn’t think straight when he touched her that way, when he whispered words of endearment into her ears. The ache that flared to life was almost unbearable. Mary Ellen arched her back, rubbing his cock between her thighs. She hadn’t a clue what she was doing, but when Aidan groaned, she knew she was doing something right.

  Aidan shifted and the thick tip of his cock pressed inside of her. “I love you, Mary Ellen,” he said against her lips. “I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you.”

  For some reason, perhaps it was the intensity in his gaze, or the fact that she wanted to so badly, but she actually believed him.

  Aidan thrust forward, surging into her fully. Mary Ellen gasped as she felt the brief sting of pain. In her haste to have him completely, she’d forgotten that it would hurt the first time.

  “You’re mine, Mary Ellen,” Aidan whispered against her mouth. “Now and forever.”

  And he was hers. She could feel his blood coursing through her being. Feel his heart throbbing against her chest. His cock pulsing inside her womb. Aidan was hers. Completely and utterly.

  He rocked his hips forward and any pain vanished. Aching need erupted deep within, begging for relief, for more, for all. She didn’t understand the feeling, but knew she never wanted him to stop. Mary Ellen dug her nails into his back. “Yes, Aidan, please!”

  His large hands moved up her thighs, cradling her backside and bringing her closer to his body, deeper into her. “I love the way you pay such close attention to your clothing and hair as if you treasure your garments and ribbons.”

  She was barely aware of the words he said, only knew she wanted him to say more, touch her more, kiss her more. Mary Ellen pressed her lips to his shoulder tasting his salty skin, urging him onward.

  He lifted his hips and thrust into her
again. The ache inside her flared to life, desperate for release. “I love the way you only read romantic poetry and gothic books, needing your happily ever after.”

  She groaned beneath him, wrapping her legs around his, bringing him deeper still.

  Aidan lifted his hips. “I love that you never want to hear bad news and leave the room if someone enters with a dark topic.”

  He thrust into her again. Pleasure rippled through her womb. Mary Ellen cried out. She’d never felt anything so beautiful.

  Aidan lifted his hips, his grip on her buttocks tightening. “And I love that you spend your days making sure the neighbors have enough clothing and food for winter.” He pressed a soft, gentle kiss to her lips. “But most of all, I love you.”

  He thrust into her one last time and Mary Ellen burst into a million white stars, spinning, twisting, floating through a reality she never, ever wanted to end.

  Epilogue

  Three Months Later

  “You look lovely.” Meg smoothed down the skirt of Mary Ellen’s dress.

  The cream-colored gown Mary Ellen wore with the silk material and capped sleeves that hung off her shoulders wasn’t ideal for winter weather, but she didn’t mind. Besides, it was practically spring. A new year, a new life. When she’d seen the material she’d had to have it. The gown shimmered and glowed in the lamplight and complimented her red hair. The pearls at her throat and entwined in her curled locks were simple, but stunning.

  “You were married in the evening,” Mary Ellen said softly, watching her sister in the mirror. She’d always been close to Meg, but felt even closer to her now. Meg understood what it was like to be married to a man like Aidan. She knew what it was like to feel such joy, such love.

  Meg paused. “Yes.” The blue gown she wore was cinched in at the waist, showing her lovely figure.

  “As I will be.”

  Meg nodded, her face unreadable. “Yes.”

  They were silent for one long moment, lost in thought. So many emotions swirled through Mary Ellen, she wasn’t sure which to grasp onto. Nervousness. Excitement. Hope. Perhaps even a little fear, for everything was so bloody perfect. Could it truly last?