Cursing viciously, The Syrian climbed out of bed and drew his great, curved sword from its display stand. "Yaa Himaar, I will not listen to your insolence any longer, no matter how much I have enjoyed your torments."
Light flashed along the blade's edge as he lifted it, and lit up his features. The Syrian squinted against the glare, which was suddenly as bright as daylight—and probably something he hadn't experienced in centuries. Snarling, he whirled it around his head and swung.
Rodrigo ducked instinctively, his hair lifting as the sharp edge passed just above his head. He lashed out stiffly—but it was the first move he'd ever made against his captor. He bared his teeth in determination and leaped back, agility returning to his limbs.
The Syrian stared at him, baffled, a curse hanging half said on his lips. Then he gripped his curved blade with both hands and came after Rodrigo, the vampiro link between them silent. "I will butcher you myself, yaa sharmuuT, like the donkey you are. Crushing you is not worthy of vampiro gifts!"
He swung hard, arrogantly—and just a little too slow, compared to someone who'd been training against another vampiro for fifty years.
Rodrigo parried the blow, his sword ringing like a bell as the two blades came together—but the fine Toledo steel held. Ah, si, he was finally fighting back!
He disengaged and brought his sword up, to begin the true duel. The Syrian slashed sideways and the battle was on. They fought silently, viciously, across the room and back toward the balcony. Rodrigo had the advantage of stamina and strength from a more recent feeding but The Syrian had the greater speed.
Then The Syrian slipped in a patch of foulness, on a decayed carpet that hadn't been removed yet. His sword's point dropped a little, giving Rodrigo the chance he'd prayed for.
Rodrigo saw his opening and took it. He lunged, twisting the great scimitar out of his captor's hand and sending it flying across the room.
The Syrian stared at him for a long moment, angry realization dawning in his eyes.
Then Rodrigo swung. He sliced The Syrian's neck in a single blow, sending the head rolling onto the balcony.
Instantly the snarling visage with its matted hair burst into flame and withered into a puff of ash. A moment later, The Syrian's body was only a slightly larger heap of dirty powder that a vagrant draft quickly dispersed.
Fireworks burst over the river and collapsed into puffs of ash drifting slowly through the sky. Rockets leapt into the skies in a frenzy, only to explode in brilliant flowers of light. Gold and white stars outshone the Milky Way, quickly followed by red, white, and blue powder puffs.
Rafael's helicopter settled down gently on Compostela Ranch's helipad, sending the dust swirling into the surrounding gardens. Grania took her eyes away from the last of San Leandro's fireworks and quickly climbed out, her hands—and arms—tingling from how Rafael had played with them throughout the flight. The man could have seduced a nun in a movie theater's back row without touching her above the elbow.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, gallantly protecting her and her hair from the worst of the helicopter's rotor wash as they moved away. A few minutes later, they paused to look at one of the beautiful fountains in his rose gardens, a single jet shooting straight up into the air before falling back into a smaller pool, where smaller jets arched into the water. The steamy air was heavily perfumed with roses and herbs, while the only sounds were the gentle ones of water and wind.
"Lovely, truly lovely," Grania sighed.
"Es verdad," Rafael agreed.
Caught by his tone, she glanced over at him. "I was talking about the garden's beauty."
"Sonrisa de mi corazón," he purred, his dark eyes like velvet in the moonlight as they caressed her, "you shine brighter than fireworks and far brighter than the moon."
She pushed his hair gently back from his forehead, lingering. "Flatterer," she whispered through a lump in her throat.
"Querida, thou art the most adored of all women, la luz de mi vida," he whispered. He went down onto one knee beside her.
"Rafael?" Grania whispered and reached for him. "What are you doing?"
"I wish we could spend the rest of our lives together but it is too dangerous for you." A tear glittered in his night-dark eyes. "If I shared El Abrazo with you, the odds are too great that you would become insane and die."
Maybe, but I'd sure as hell try it, just to have a chance at forever with you. She caressed his head. "Yes, I know, you told me that the first night, when we talked about vampiro reproduction. Let's sit on the bench over there, cariño, where we can be comfortable." And private.
After they settled into the bower's fragrant seclusion, he took her hands. "If you remain a prosaica, then we only have fifty years, maybe seventy. Not very long to my eyes."
She flinched and shook her head, unable to say anything.
"There's another way but it's difficult, especially for women. You could become my compañera."
Her pulses leaped at another option and she forced them to steady. If she had an alternative, then she sure as hell wanted to know more. "You haven't mentioned this before. Tell me about it."
"If a prosaica drinks a vampiro's blood regularly but not much at any one time, she will gain many of the benefits of the vampiro elixir. This includes longer life, more powerful senses, and greater strength. You could easily live for a century, and possibly even two centuries."
He was phrasing this too carefully. "What's the catch?" Grania asked bluntly.
Rafael met her eyes directly. "A compañera is unable to bear children. After a century or so, she will suddenly collapse and die, usually within a matter of days, unless given El Abrazo. For men, becoming a compañero apparently makes it easier to receive El Abrazo."
No children but Rafael for a lot more years? Grania snorted silently at the obvious choice. "I'd rather have you than children. Can we start tonight?"
A slow smile began to grow on his face. "Are you certain? Giving up the chance to bear a child—"
"Extremely. You're the only family I want or need."
"Mi alma!" He kissed her passionately.
"It can take months to become a compañera" he murmured minutes later.
"So? As long as we start tonight, who cares?"
"Of course." He lightly scraped his teeth over her earlobe, not drawing blood.
"Will this change my ability to know what you're feeling after we make love? Or when you're fighting?"
"What! When I'm fighting?" He disengaged himself, staring at her. "Por favor, explain yourself."
He was pale, even allowing for the moonlight.
Grania gathered her courage. Telling the complete truth was the only way to handle a scientific inquiry into a very large issue, especially when no theory had been formulated to cover the observed facts. "The first time it happened was the night you showed yourself to me at the raptor center. When you bit my wrist, just after I orgasmed, I knew what your thoughts were—and you knew mine too."
His face could have been carved out of stone. "Continue."
"One afternoon, I could see you—no, feel you down to my bones!—searching a building in high-tech body armor, then fighting as a wolf." Her chin went up stubbornly. "I don't know how you went from the armor to the wolf shape but I know it happened. I felt your claws slash a bear's muzzle and your teeth bite through his throat."
"What else?" he gritted out.
She eyed him warily. He had asked her to spend centuries with him, so she knew he cared for her. She went on. "Another time after we made love and you drank my blood, I felt the energy from my blood flowing through your body, as your orgasmic contractions continued."
"It cannot be true," he muttered, his thoughts obviously racing. "I wish to God it was, though. But there is no way for us to already have the conyugal bond when we have loved each other for only a month."
He knew how to explain this? "What's a conyugal bond?"
His attention came back to her. "It is a soul-deep link of complete trust between
cónyuges, which can only be given and never be forced. It takes years to grow between two people, querida, not days or weeks, because it governs instinct and reflexes, as well as intellect."
"Why do you wish we had such a bond?"
"I love you dearly. It would gladden me greatly to share such communion of heart and soul with my beloved."
She raised an eyebrow quizzically. "And?"
He shrugged. "I am fighting for my esfera's existence, mi corazón. I will not deny I would welcome any weapon that comes to my hand. A duelist, backed by a conyugal bond, is nearly unbeatable."
"His cónyuge acts as his second set of eyes and ears, so he can't be surprised in a duel?"
Rafael nodded. "The cónyuge can also provide the duelist with additional fighting styles to use or shapes to shift into."
Grania studied him, looking so serious, even sitting in the moonlight with roses all around. "A cónyuge could be the reincarnation of someone you loved deeply," she suggested, choosing her words carefully. "That would explain how trust came so quickly."
His eyes blazed with hope for a moment then steadied, level and dark. "There was only my wife but she is gone to heaven, far from this world's agonies. I cannot ask her joyous spirit to be shackled to this earth again, not even to have her wisdom in my life, she whom I trusted as I have trusted no other until you. Your love is a gift from above, gracias a Dios, and needs no further explanation."
He pressed a kiss in each of her palms, then wrapped her hands in his big, scarred ones. "I too have felt much of the same conyugal bond. But to be certain we are cónyuges, messages would have to flow from you to me across the bond when we are not in physical contact. Your mental shields are incredibly strong, querida, and, so far, they've only lowered during passion."
She nearly cursed. The man was stubborn beyond belief but they'd have time to talk about it later.
She smiled at him, then bent her head and kissed his hands. "I will dedicate my life to making you happy, Rafael."
"Te adoro, Grania." He gathered her close and kissed her, his tongue curling around hers. She tasted herself on him and moaned hungrily, wrapping her arms around his neck and rubbing herself against him.
He nuzzled her hair, little kisses that led him down past her temple, and undid her ponytail with a growl of delight. She trembled under his touch, her arms sliding around him, feeling his heart beat faster under his white shirt. His lips trailed over her nose and her head fell back to meet him. Their mouths met and melded, breaths heating each other as their tongues danced and twined together.
She sighed, pressing closer, and he pulled her to him, his strong fingers kneading her ass and burning through her thin skirt into her skin. She stretched up, shaping herself to him, opening her legs so the hot, hard ridge behind his rough denim jeans would ride exactly where she needed it against her mound. She jolted in shock at feeling the denim's harshness against her bare skin. Her thong might as well not have been there, for all the protection it offered.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders at the increased heat, her hips surging against him, as his hands pulled her closer. Her clothes were no barrier at all, not with the heat of the night and the passion between them. She moaned again and tried to move closer.
He swept her up into his arms, still kissing her. She automatically adapted herself to the new position, happy to be touching him. But she forced herself back to sanity when he set her carefully down onto her feet, steadying her. "Grania, mi corazón."
She tried to lift eyelids grown heavy with sensuality and assess her surroundings. A bedroom, bigger than any she'd seen, so it definitely wasn't hers. Moonlight poured in through a long row of French doors opening onto the gardens, showing a room lit with candles rather than electricity. An enormous, carved four-poster bed held pride of place. Together with its matching tables, chairs, and chests, the room looked like something from a film about Washington. And every surface was covered with red and white rose petals.
He drew her up against him. "A bower for the lady who holds my heart in her hands."
She managed a chuckle at his fanciful thought, sparks flying through her at the look in his eyes. "My love."
They kissed as tenderly as if it was their first kiss, as if they were only now learning each other's taste. His hands drifted gently up and down her arms, the light touch sending prickles of heat through her veins and into her breasts. They firmed, lifting against him. She sighed, moved closer and rubbed her leg over his calf. "More, please, more."
A flush rode high on his cheekbones when he looked down on her. "As the lady of my heart commands."
He lifted her up and set her down on the bed, settling her so her head and shoulders rested on the pillows, her hair spilling behind her. Petals floated up then drifted back down over her, as light as thistledown. He gently eased off one flimsy sandal. Then he produced a rose from the table and lightly ran it over her foot, down the side, outlining every toe, then underneath the instep.
Grania gasped and stared at him. "Rafael?"
He repeated the caress, very, very delicately. A tremor ran through her body straight up to her core. She moaned involuntarily, her eyes closing against the unexpected pleasure.
He did the same to the other foot. Even knowing a little of what to expect didn't stop her pussy from clenching and dripping cream. When he brushed a rose over her thighs, it set off Shockwaves of sensation that raced through her bones, arching her up off the bed as lances of desire wracked her spine.
"You are so beautiful, mi corazón, when you are aroused," he murmured. "Your skin soft as silk, with heat running under it and the dark fire of your hair. A man would willingly die for an hour with such a priceless treasure as you."
He traced another rose across her other thigh, teasing her skin there as delicately. She gasped in shock as her toes curled in pleasure, when the velvet soft flower teased her. She tossed her head back and moaned, her skirt heaped almost to her waist.
He opened her legs wider and eased her thong off. Then he found another rose and another to stroke over her nether lips. Desire strummed her veins with every soft touch, and cream flowed quickly for him, urged on by his praise. She begged him for release but he whispered to her of patience, swore she was beautiful beyond compare. And still she writhed and twisted and arched under the caress of the flowers and his voice, filled with desire and desperation.
His mouth found her, latching onto her clit just as his finger slipped into her. He sucked hard, pressuring her exactly where she needed it. She climaxed, tumbling over the cliff into fulfillment while her body spasmed between his expert hands.
She started to recover her senses, gasping for breath, still unable to find words.
His hands slipped up her back, underneath her top. "Lift your arms, querida."
She quickly did so and he pressed a kiss to first one, then the other aching, ruby-red bud of a nipple. She pulled his dark head closer, sinking her fingers into his silken hair and sighing as each swirl of his tongue sent more lust spiraling through her. Her clothes quickly fell away before his wickedly enticing mouth and hands, while her restless hands demanded similar availability from him.
Soon they were lying side by side, kissing, Rafael caressing Grania's breast while her leg rubbed his in a silent plea. Her nerves were a coil of lust, while liquid heat rippled and gushed over her thighs at every touch of his lips or hands.
"Rafael, please," she moaned, her hips rocking against his fiery hot cock. Pre-come slipped from it onto her skin, marking her with his hunger.
He shuddered, thick fans of eyelashes sweeping down, visibly leashing himself. "Grania, I wish you to be very certain."
"Silly man." She gave him a totally incredulous look and tried once again to capture his cock between her legs.
Suddenly, he rolled onto his back, bringing her up, astride his thighs. She stared down at him. "What are you doing?"
"Ride me," he bit out. "It's not so very different than with horses. Just before you climax, I'll
open my jugular and you can drink from me, if you still want to."
She hesitated, worrying her lip between her teeth. "You've always been so dominant. Why are you letting me be the one on top now?"
His gaze swept to her mouth before returning to her eyes. "So you will always know that this is completely your choice. No force of any kind will be involved."
She relaxed, accepting his logic, and leaned forward. "Do you honestly think I'll know how to treat you right?" She wrapped her fingers around his cock, admiring how massive he was. Slowly she ran her hand up it, with a very slight twist, repeating the move with her other hand.
"¡Dios, Grania!" His hips bucked off the bed, shaking the rose petals.
"Am I doing something wrong?" Wonderful how his excitement was echoed in her body. Her fingers shook slightly as she masturbated him.
"No!" His face was etched in passion, barely leashed.
She smiled in pure joy. "You will always have my heart, Rafael."
His gaze dropped to her breasts, flushed and full, aching for him. His big, dark hands cupped them, lifted them, and excited them irresistibly.
She tossed her head, sending her hair spilling around them like a curtain of living light. She moaned, hunger for her man tightening in her belly, stronger and stronger. She cupped his balls gently and he rumbled his pleasure, the muscle twitching hard in his jaw.
But that was only a moment's diversion before she returned to her true goal, his beautiful cock, rearing up like a scimitar pointing toward his heart. She straddled it, rubbing herself over it, claiming him with her cream. He moaned her name, his eyes falling shut as his hips rocked under her in a demand for completion.
She knelt over him and kissed his mouth. He answered her, their tongues twining in a silent communion, confirming everything their words had said.
Then she gathered his cock in both hands and slowly, very slowly, watching his expression every moment, she sank down onto him. Small wriggles and moans marked her journey, her inner muscles clenching and releasing him. He shuddered under her, his chocolate eyes wild as he watched, his hands shredding silk bedcovers and rose petals alike. Finally, she held him completely, her legs straddling him like the finest of stallions. She was so very, very full of him that it was hard to think over her body's clamor for completion.
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