Buried Passion

by Marianne Willis

  With Rachel’s body against his own, he ran his hands over her silk-covered hips. The knot at her waist took one tug for the garment to fall open. Satin slid off her shoulders and pooled on the floor.

  Rachel backed up, giving him a view of her body as her dainty foot kicked the robe aside. Silver-gray lace cupped the perfect mounds of her breasts and matched the panties that hid her sex. Ian guided her backward until she hit the antique dresser. Hard with anticipation, his erection throbbed in his pants. He lifted her under the arms and placed her on the flat surface.

  Ian leaned in, flicked her lobe with his tongue, teased the flesh before gently tugging. Along her neck, he kissed a delicious trail to the slope of her breasts, spoiling his lips with the softness of her skin. His knees sank into the plush rug. This was where he wanted to be, learning her, tasting her, discovering new ways to unravel her. Like this, she’d be utterly exposed. The notion was almost enough to make him spend.

  “Raise your hips,” he demanded, unable to wait a second longer.

  She did, her palms flat by her sides, head arched into the rustic mirror. With both his thumbs hooked on either side of her panties, he guided the lace down. He itched to settle between her smooth legs, to have them wrap around his head. Seeing her pleasure was the most erotic experience of his life. It did something to his insides, made his wolf want to howl. The salty-sweetness of her arousal teased his senses. He couldn’t wait to make her come.

  He cupped beneath her knees and spread her legs. Excitement flashed in her alluring eyes when he placed her feet flat on the table, leaving her deliciously open. She bit into her bottom lip, something he promised himself he’d do. She wasn’t shy, and he loved that about her, loved that she dared him with her eyes. He lowered to her glistening sex, her heady scent left him light-headed with carnal gratification. In one upward stroke, his tongue slipped between her folds, and he sucked at the little bundle of nerves. She gyrated off the table, but his strong hands kept her in place.

  Slow and sensual, he took her with his mouth, relished in her hitching breath. As he tongued her heat, he groaned and hummed when she tensed. Rachel clutched his head, her open thighs quavered as she cried at the ceiling. He continued to lick and suck as she rode out her orgasm and returned from her high. He scooted her closer, ready to blow her mind again with his lips and tongue.

  “Ian. Inside me. Now. Please.”

  The desperation in her tone compelled him to his feet. “You want me?” His voice exploded with guttural need.

  “Hell yes,” she whispered. Her arms snaked his neck and brought him in for a sensual kiss.

  He grabbed her face and forced his tongue past her lips.

  Tugging at his hip, she undid his belt. The tips of his fingers traced her skin to the back of her bra. His buckle hit the floor with a loud thud, followed by his jeans brushing down his legs. One twist unhooked her clasps, and the flimsy gray lace met his own clothes. She gripped his shirt with both fists and tore the material open. He shrugged the torn garment off his shoulders. One hand supported her back, the other cupped her breast, squeezing and kneading. She cried out and gripped his shaft. He didn’t wait, and drove home in one, long thrust. Eyes shut, he groaned at the ceiling, squeezing her breast harder, pumping into her with relentless movements.

  She screamed his name, locked her legs around his waist and rest her hands on his chest. The heat and scent of their lovemaking permeated the air, and he basked in it, revelled in the way her hips rocked and her silkiness gripped him. Each thrust of his hips brought forth her sexy cries. Her movements stilled, fingers dug into his skin and her eyes squeezed shut as though she could only concentrate on the orgasm that overtook her. The pad of his thumb found her sensitive spot, rubbed in circular motions, and helped her over the edge.

  “Ian,” she screamed loud and long. The pure elation in her voice sent him convulsing into his own release. He tightened her against his body, slowed his strokes to prolong the euphoric sensation. Beads of sweat trailed down his forehead. He focused on his breathing and the wild beat of his heart.

  Rachel kept her eyes closed, her parted mouth sought his. With a groan, he kissed her, enjoyed the dance of tongues and lips as their bodies cooled and grew limp with exhaustion. Gathering her in his arms, he sauntered to the bed. As he laid them down, her head fell against his chest and she sighed. Their coupling left them spent. He hoped she didn’t overexert herself. She still hadn’t fed. For now he’d let her rest, but when she awoke, he’d make sure she drank from him. Only him.

  Chapter 16

  “Drink, Rachel.”

  Wetness smeared her lips, and she tentatively licked. Crimson filled her mouth. The sweet nickel flavor aroused a pleased moan. Blood…not just any, but Ian’s. She’d recognise that distinct tang anywhere. Her eyes flew open and blinked at the coarse ceiling as her fangs pierced the offered wrist. Heat against her back and a masculine groan alerted her to the here and now. Ian gave her his blood. Had he nipped himself, readied his arm for her awaiting fangs? Crazy. Amazing, but crazy. As if his hatred for vampires now non-existent.

  The strange turn of events forgotten, she relaxed against his bicep and held his wrist to her mouth. Images of the night before flooded her mind; on the dresser, legs parted, Ian’s dark head between them, devouring her with his mouth, plucking her nerve endings the same way a musician strummed a guitar.

  Death might have a tight grip on her, but in his arms she never felt more alive. He trembled behind her. What if she weakened him? Afraid to drink too much, she eased out of his wrist, hugged his arm to her chest, and relished in the warmth of the naked man at her back. A selfish part of her wanted to hold him for as long as possible. Not even forever would be long enough.

  Ian’s free arm snaked around her waist, cocooning her in comfort. A solace she had to disturb before she made a mess with her nosebleed. “I need to grab a towel.”

  “Already thought of that,” he whispered, swaying the fluffy cloth between his pinched fingers.

  Did she want to lay here, have him witness such a grotesque reaction? Heat flushed her cheeks. She threw a leg over the edge of the bed. A protest sat on the tip of her tongue when he dragged her back against him. Too late. The familiar strobe-light of colors and headache forced her eyes shut. Ian’s soothing words feathered over her hair.

  Rain splattered against the glass, droplets raced to the edge of the frame. It had been two years since Rachel last saw Jeff. All day she forced him from her mind, but summer break always brought back the painful memories. A knock sounded at her door. She jolted against the window seat, cleared her throat, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Come in.”

  The bedroom door swung open. In popped her mother’s russet pixie cut head. “Care to join us downstairs?” Her mother entered the room, dressed in a light blue shirt and denims. “Your sister and I are about to watch a movie. Amber’s also joined us.”

  “No, thanks.” She turned back toward the window. “I think I’ll stay here.” And mull over her lovelorn life.

  A warm hand cupped her arm. “What’s the matter? You used to love summer break. Is that why you’re sad, because you don’t hang out with Tara anymore?”

  Rachel burned inside. If only her mother knew the truth. There’d been plenty of opportunities to reveal what happened, but Rachel wanted to puke every time she thought of the past. Besides, what would her mother think of her actions? The woman gazed at her and Brianna with so much pride, bragged about them to all her friends. She even stuck their report cards and school awards on the fridge. Yes, Anne Johnson would hate to discover the selfish person her daughter had become. A good thing her parents had Brianna. At least one of them would make their parents proud. “Why did you adopt Brianna?” She’d never asked before, and a subject change was a must.

  Her mother frowned and folded her arms. “Where’d that come from? You and Bri-bee aren’t fighting, are you?”

  Brianna and Amber were the two most important girls in her life, a
nd yet they also had no idea what happened two years ago. If she hadn’t told them by now, she never would. This was one secret she’d take to the grave. “No, of course not. I was curious. Not many people adopt, especially when they’re able to have kids of their own.”

  “I’ve always wanted to adopt a child, as much as having one of my own.” She leaned in, and kissed the top of her head. “The fact I have both is a true blessing.”

  The throb anchored to her heart detached itself for the first time in days. Trust her mother’s words to work like healing balm. Here she pined over the past, when she had a family who loved her. No matter what, she’d always have her parents. The future didn’t look scary with her family by her side. Rachel jumped off the window seat and hugged her mother. “No, we’re the ones who are blessed. I love you, ma.”

  Her mother crooned. “I love you too, my sweet.”

  “I’ve got you, Rachel. I’ve got you.”

  Back and forth he rocked her. Rachel rubbed her eyes with her fists, smearing the wetness on her cheeks. She’d been crying. The ache in her chest mimicked an open wound, but the pain was bittersweet. It was longing. She missed her mother.

  “Are you all right? You started crying in your sleep.”

  She took hold of the towelette he pressed to her face and dabbed her nose a few times. The rusty scent alerted her of fresh blood. She stared into his eyes. “I had a memory of my mother.”

  Ian cocked his brow. “Was it good?”

  A tentative smile touched her lips. “Yes, and no. My mother…she eased my broken heart with just a smile. Oh Ian, if only she were alive so I could talk to her one last time.”

  He kissed her head. “I’m sorry you lost your parents. I would’ve loved to have met them.”

  Her stomach fluttered. If only he’d met them when they were alive. Rachel might not remember them well, but she was sure they would have adored Ian.

  Someone knocked on the door, and she sat upright in bed.

  “Rachel?”

  “Just a minute,” she shouted, then snatched at the silk sheet. She wrapped it around her naked body and bolted for the robe and underwear on the floor. “It’s Brianna,” she told Ian.

  He too sprung to his feet and joined her in dressing. Energy zapped through her limbs, and she felt better than what she had before Ian arrived. That werewolf blood of his was amazing. Did Brianna wonder what took her so long?

  “Hey Rach,” Ian whispered. “Dare me to open the door in this?”

  What? As she tied the knot of her robe, she turned to Ian, clothed in just his underwear and shirt.

  A laugh bubbled up her chest. She snorted at the bold letters on his boxers that read: WARNING, contains nuts. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? Too lost in the heat of the moment. She snickered. “I can’t let my sister see you like that.”

  He wriggled his brows and smirked. The playful demeanor suited him. “She might appreciate my humorous taste in underwear.”

  “Ian,” she hissed his name.

  He waved a hand. “All right, all right. I’ll hide in the bathroom like a good, little lover.”

  When he disappeared behind the door, Rachel finger-combed her hair and turned the handle.

  Brianna stood, arms crossed, leaned against the door frame and failed to hide her smirk. “Ian’s in the room with you.” She didn’t even ask, but stated it as mere fact.

  “No.” Rachel feigned innocence. Oh, who was she kidding. “Okay, yes.”

  “I figured he stayed the night. I’d love to get all sisterly and chat about this, but timing is crucial.” Brianna handed over a gray garment bag. “Shower and dress. As soon as you’re done, we’re heading to Paris.” She bit her lower lip, but that didn’t cease the wide smile. “It’s the Primes, they’ve agreed to a meeting.”

  The Primes want to meet her? Could this mean… A rush of adrenaline surged through her limbs. “That’s good news.”

  Her sister inhaled deep. “Tristan told me not to get too excited, but I can’t help it.”

  It was wise not to get ahead of themselves. The Primes were strangers. Would they even help?

  “I hope you don’t mind the color black. It’s custom here to where such gowns in dark colors, otherwise I’d have brought you some denims and a shirt.”

  Dressing as though attending a medieval funeral was a tradition? These ancient vamps needed to get with the times.

  “Also, Lucas arrived.” She tilted her head. “He has a black eye, but won’t tell me what happened.”

  She gasped. “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah, other than the shiner he looks fine. Also, Amber and Chayton are at the airport. They’ll be here later tonight. I left my number in the dresser drawer yesterday, so call when you’re ready. I’ll send for Tristan to flash you guys. We’ll be in the town square.”

  Rachel slung the garment bag over her arm, the plastic crackled like dry leaves. “I’ll be out as soon as I can.”

  Showered, dressed, and thirty minutes later, she walked hand in hand with Ian. The black strapless corset had Ian’s eyes glued to her cleavage. The floor length organza skirt brushed against her thighs with every step. Her hair up in a high chignon complemented the formal gown. Minutes whisked by as they’d searched for an exit and asked for directions through the maze-like halls.

  Ian found the ordeal hilarious. Lost in a cave wasn’t a joking matter, but he’d lightened her mood with his banter. As though unbothered in a place full of vampires. Instead, he’d been too engaged making her laugh or sneaking a kiss when alone in one of the many corridors.

  As they entered the town square, she spotted her family and Lord Sylvestre near the large set of stairs that led to the exit.

  Brianna puffed out a long sigh and hurried over. “You never called, I was about to come get you.”

  “I thought I could manage on my own, but we got lost.” Silly of her, really. Rachel should have known better. Besides, she’d been here less than a day. Not enough time to learn the place.

  “Well, you’re here now.” Brianna walked with them toward the others.

  All eyes fell on Rachel and Ian.

  Lucas, who sported a nasty bruise, gaped at their interlocked fingers as if they were hot coals. Tristan and Lord Sylvestre muttered to each other in French.

  Rachel cocked a brow. “Quit staring, guys. You’re all acting like this is middle school.”

  “Are you two…mates?” Tristan queried, his mouth twitched into a smile.

  Mates. The one word Rachel had been avoiding all morning. In the back of her mind, she understood what they shared would never be as strong as a bond. For now she would go with it, see where their relationship led, live in this beautiful place called denial. Having Ian for a little while was better than not at all. Today, Rachel needed him more than ever.

  “No, we’re not.” Ian squeezed her hand as though adding an unspoken confirmation that he’d be with her for as long as she’d have him.

  Tristan frowned. An unbonded werewolf with someone other than his mate? Yes, Rachel imagined the notion seemed weird. Bonded mates were destined for one another and here she and Ian stood, purposely defying the odds.

  Although the cave was well-ventilated, tension swallowed the air in their small circle.

  Ian cleared his throat and waved at her cousin, Lucas. “Sorry for yesterday. Please understand I was desperate to see Rachel.”

  Wait, what? Ian gave her cousin a black eye?

  Lucas said nothing. Utter confusion swirled in his deep blues as he continued to stare at them as if she and Ian were bombs, ready to explode at any minute.

  “We should get going,” Lord Sylvestre said. “Tristan and Brianna are joining us, but is there anyone else?”

  Her cousin raised his hand. “I’d like to be there, if that’s all right with Rachel.”

  Lucas was a stranger, but he was family. She shrugged, the movement automatic. “I don’t mind.” Something about this guy gave her a sense of an overprotective big brother. At least,
that was the impression she got when around him.

  He smiled as though reading her mind. “I know you don’t remember the past, but we’ve always had each other’s backs.”

  If The Primes helped her, she would have more time to remember her life and the loving family she’d been raised in. “Thank you. It means a lot.”

  “I’ll be coming,” Ian threw in, not concerned about the jaw-dropping reactions from the others.

  Lord Sylvestre nodded. “Very well. My guards will flash you all to the destination.”

  ****

  Their surroundings morphed into view much like a photographic process. What was dark and latent grew clear and visible in a matter of seconds. Ian observed as one by one, Lord Sylvestre’s guards teleported back to Désuet like static. If only werewolves possessed such an incredible ability.

  His gaze roamed up the stiff-leaf capital pillars and interlaced pointed arcades toward the high ribbed vault ceiling. A distinct smell filled the air, dirt and old pennies. Dust-covered pews sat cold and untouched.

  Rachel spun toward him, her dress swished against her legs. Legs he wanted snaked around his waist, legs he couldn’t shake from his mind. “This place looks like an ancient cathedral.”

  “It is.” Lord Sylvestre pointed to the ceiling. “The building aboveground is an old mansion.”

  Blood drained from Ian’s face. “This room doesn’t lead to catacombs, does it?”

  Lord Sylvestre thew his head back and laughed. “Paris is known for its many catacombs, but rest assured you won’t be running into any skeletons. The Primes meet with vampires in the underground section of their home for our benefit. Even though I’m not harmed by sunrays, I’m not the prettiest sight in daylight. As for Rachel, she’s the first young Impure in centuries, and will be able to walk in daylight. Only when she exceeds natural age will she refrain from entering sunlight.”