Love is Fear

by Caroline Hanson

  Lucas came closer to her, didn’t touch her, just looked at her carefully, like she was somehow different than he expected. He came close enough that she would have had to tilt her head up to keep eye contact. She couldn’t help it—she shifted back a little, keeping an extra few inches between them. The hollow of his throat was right in front of her face.

  Lip level.

  She stared at his mouth and his the carefully neutral expression. She wanted to make him smile, frown, press his lips together like he was flustered, too. If she kissed him, she could wipe that bland expression from him.

  “I want to talk about what has happened. And you should never invite a vampire into your home.” He sounded paternal and distant.

  She shooed him away, and he stepped back, watching as she closed the door behind her and came outside. “Fine, we can go on a walk around the block.”

  He nodded and turned away from her, gliding down the steps gracefully, his tread light. Lucas paused on the walkway and looked back at her, fingers opening like he was going to help her down the steps, but then stopped and faced away from her, clasping his hands behind his back instead. He actually shook his head like he was disgusted.

  At me.

  God, this was awkward. Cold sweat, a stomach in knots. And him! He seemed almost… uncertain now. And while she was happy to confess that she’d had many a fantasy of him being as wrong footed as she was, now that she was experiencing it… it sucked. It didn’t make her happy at all. She liked his ego and swagger.

  Did I do that to him? She couldn’t believe she had that kind of power. Make up your mind, moron—did you crush him or does he not care?

  “So, how have you been?” she asked, desperate for some connection. She couldn’t feel what he was thinking at all. If she tried to reach for him in that vague magicky way, it was like groping a rock. He was inert. They made it to the end of the sidewalk in front of her house, and she watched him hungrily as he looked at everything around him—everything except her. Lucas didn’t stare at her like she stared at him.

  He doesn’t care. That’s which one it is.

  It was dark outside. The trees appeared black and she could see the big dipper up in the sky twinkling down at her. She heard a dog barking down the street, the sound of a car driving by, and it was like normal life.

  He put his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, stood ramrod straight and looked bored. It expanded his chest, stretched the material a little bit, and she knew she was ogling him as he looked away from her.

  Was he doing it on purpose? Giving her a chance to see the goods and all that she’d passed up, because he knew how much she wanted him?

  His voice cut through the night, startling her. “After all my years, you would think I would have patience, but I do not. Speak what you mean to say. Do not attempt to spare my feelings or drag this out. Why have you changed your mind about Roanoke so soon?”

  He crossed his arms again, his gaze resting on her face for a moment as he adjusted his stance. Setting his feet slightly apart while he waited. It made him a little shorter, now her eye level was his lips, not the hollow of his neck. Not actually that helpful. Just easier to reach.

  She crossed her arms and realized they were mimicking each other. Some seriously closed-off posturing.

  Lucas stared at the ground for a moment, and then his light blue eyes, which looked dark in the nighttime, came back to hers. Sliced her open from sternum to stomach, the look was so sharp.

  She couldn’t look at him. “Finding the Fey will help humans, right? Keep the vampires in check?”

  “If they are alive, yes.”

  “That’s important. So, let’s do it.”

  “This is not your idea,” he said flatly.

  “How the hell do you know?” Defensive much? But he was right—it wasn’t her idea.

  “He wants you to do this. Where is he? Why is he not here with you? I find it odd he would let you meet with me alone,” Lucas said, a warmth to his words that was far from sexual. She flushed and hoped he couldn’t see it. “Jack doesn’t know. He’s out tonight.”

  Lucas looked away from her, brought his arms up, lacing his fingers behind his head. It made him taller, stretched his form out, lifting just the edge of his shirt so that a small amount of flesh was exposed.

  She could see the very top of his hip bones, that pale, smooth skin, his stomach muscles that rippled and jutted out in cut lines. That gap was so small, and yet her reaction was huge. Her stomach fluttered, her hands opened, ready to reach out and touch him. Desire coiled through her, pooling in her core, making her damp. Ready. Wet.

  Her desire to touch him was totally out of proportion to what—and how much—of him was exposed.

  She wanted to strip him bare. Be with him here and now. You’re in the middle of the damned street, you horny moron.

  God, she wanted him. Oh, to put her palms on his waist. She’d heard his voice and her breath had been short. She’d seen him and she’d felt wet. But now, now that he was here and his body was on display, she needed him inside of her. It was a question of sanity, a fix for her addiction.

  She took a step closer to him, and he took a step back, voice controlled but dark, scraping over her harshly. “You do not get us both. Is that why you wait until he is away?”

  She jerked upright, desire put on simmer. “No!”

  “Then what? Explain.” He really didn’t sound like he wanted to hear what she had to say.

  She started walking. Wouldn’t have this conversation while staring into his eyes and feeling horrifyingly vulnerable. She’d walk down the street feeling horribly vulnerable instead. “It’s over between Jack and me. We tried but he—” She couldn’t speak. It was so embarrassing. So humiliating how quickly things had fallen apart. She blinked back tears.

  “He is sending you to the Fey.”

  She nodded.

  “And so it is done?”

  She nodded again. “It’s so stupid, but no one wants me for me. No one will put me first. My safety or my happiness. I’ve got two stupidly hot guys who want my body, but that’s not enough. I couldn’t even get the tiniest violin to play a pity song for me because I’m so pathetic.”

  They had been walking slowly down the street. And it was only fitting that her feet should stop, rooted to the ground in misery, right in front of this one particular house. It wasn’t grand. It was quaint. Four bedrooms, a doggy door, and a green lawn the husband was probably militant about.

  It had a big backyard and a pool. “I used to babysit for them—the people who live in this house.” She inclined her head towards the house, saw him turn to look at it. “I used to envy them. After I put the kids to bed, they’d come home…and they were so happy. It was so different than what I had. And I always wondered…if my mom had lived, if that’s how my life would have been.”

  Val sat down on the curb, her head in her hands, feeling overwhelmed with sadness and despair. But she wanted him to know and understand. Why? So he knows what you are giving up every time you see him? In hopes that he will leave you alone and go live his cold emotionless existence somewhere else?

  “My father…he took down all her pictures after she died. They were gone for years. When I found them again and saw what she looked like, I was surprised that she didn’t look like the lady I babysat for. I hung one up in the dining room, and my dad—when he’s home…I mean, when he was home—” There was a deep, painful sob lurking in her chest. It felt like a baseball shoved in her throat, and she tried to keep it inside, swallowing it back. “He wouldn’t even look at it.”

  Valerie stood, ready to keep going, keep walking. Walk away from this house, from all the memories and do what she ought to do. Go with him to find the Fey. Shut the door on the life she had always wanted. That was a fantasy. People didn’t get their fantasies. She needed to grow a pair and get over it.

  And then Lucas was in front of her, his large body blocking out her view of the house, the street, the night. He was so close,
she couldn’t see anything else besides him. His hands were flush along her jaw, thumbs stroking her cheek, tilting her to look up into his eyes. She could feel his heat, smell his cologne. The space between them was charged, like that little space between magnets, forced close together. The very molecules between them buzzing.

  His words were guttural and thick, like he was just as in the moment as she was. Wanted her just as much as she wanted him. And like he wanted her to remember this moment and him.

  “I can keep you safe. I can give you more than any man ever could.” His mouth was close to hers, each word bringing him a little closer. If she leaned forward at all, he’d be kissing her.

  She felt his pause and restraint. What is he waiting for? She wanted him to kiss her, take her away from that house and what she couldn’t have, give her something else to make everything worthwhile.

  “Pleasure and lust…but not love,” she said softly. It broke her heart.

  “I can do this:I can make you happy. I will be attentive, cherish you and take care of you. I will put no one above you. These are not trivial things.”

  “I know.” Tears slid down her cheeks, and his face dipped in, kissing them away. He made a sound deep in his chest that felt so sincere and honest she wanted to drop every hesitation and give in to him. She pulled back a little, stepping away, but he followed her, didn’t let her go.

  “But I will love you,” she said. “That’s the real problem. I will fall in love with you, and every day I’ll know you’re not in love with me.”

  He kissed her chastely on the lips. Then again and again. Each time a little longer, a little harder, his body moving closer and closer to hers. “I’m sorry. Truly I am,” he said, so close their noses touched.

  She could smell mint on his breath and, in a way, that made it worse—because it told her he knew how this was going to end. No objection of hers would sway him. He was going to kiss her.

  He looked at her fiercely, the words barely above a heavy whisper. “I told you I would not let you go. You have come back, and now you are mine.” His hand fisted into her hair at the nape of her neck.

  A sign of his possession. It also reminded her how easy it would be for him to hurt her. Physically. Emotionally.

  He can hurt me anytime he wants to. That’s what love is, her mind whispered as though it were a coy secret. Love is passion. Love is fear. Love is darkness.

  She’d throw everything away for him if she wasn’t careful. No family, no white picket fence, just a destructive love that would end in death. Nothing was forever. Not even vampires, no matter what they claimed. Maybe that was what love was.

  Mortal.

  “How do you know it will not be love?” he said. “I will do everything I can, and it will be so close to love, you will never know the difference.”

  He was suddenly blurry as tears swamped her eyes. Val kept her eyes closed, like this was her last chance to keep herself together, keep pieces of herself just for her. He’d take everything he could see and, if he could see into her eyes, he’d take her soul too. So she squeezed them tight, but felt her body collapse under the weight of…what? Fate? Stupidity? An error so large it would be her death warrant?

  “I do not make the same mistake twice, my Valkyrie,” he said, his voice a mixture of lust and triumph.

  His mouth was on hers instantly, demanding she open to him. And she did, twining her arms around his neck, relaxing every part of her, letting him take her weight and keep her safe. He held her flush against his chest, and she felt the world shimmer, as he took them somewhere else.

  She opened her eyes—his bedroom.

  His tongue met hers, lightly, gently. And then he picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist effortlessly, still kissing her with such slow, sweet passion that she couldn’t even think about fighting or stopping.

  With a hand on her back, he lowered them to his bed, his heavy body settling over her. His elbows were next to her head, and he was watching his hand smooth her hair away from her temple. He wasn’t smiling, didn’t look triumphant, more contemplative more than anything. And she felt… everything.

  His head lowered to hers, eyes open, almost daring her to look away from him. It was predatory, determined, the focus more than a man who’s about to have sex…this was primal. He was going to make his mark on her.

  “You will go nowhere else. You will want no one else.” He pressed her close to him, making sure she felt the hard ridge of his erection through her clothes. “When I am done with you, you will be ruined for other men.” Lucas kissed her slowly, his tongue in her mouth, his hand sliding down her side to her hip, gripping it and then the span of flesh on her upper thigh, where her skin was sensitive, hardwired to the core of her body. From a long way away, she heard herself cry out in need—and she didn’t care.

  His hand came back up to her chest, not touching her breast, but settling firmly underneath it, along her ribcage, almost burning a hole through her clothing.

  It built her expectation—that hand settled on her as she waited for what would come next. What he would do next. His patience drove her crazy, the feel of his body on top of hers and the slow kiss as his tongue fucked hers. Every move was gentle and languid while her body wanted faster, more, everything.

  Her breathing changed, body becoming restless, and she made a noise, urging him onwards and needing him to move. Her arms tightened around his neck, trying to bring him closer. Lucas shifted, hips pressing more firmly between her legs, so that all she felt was the steady throb and pulse of her core against his cock.

  He surrounded her: his heavy weight on hers, that large hand that he wouldn’t move, his taste and smell. There was nothing beyond him. He kissed her endlessly, and with each exhale she climbed higher, wound tighter.

  And somewhere in the midst of her growing need she recognized the deliberateness of his actions. That with each exhale he was a little closer, increasing the pressure of his erection against her center minutely, so that she was closer and closer to the edge of orgasm—without him doing much of anything.

  In some distant part of her, she knew that he was teaching her a lesson, proving to her that he could make her come, with only the barest touch of his body on hers. Even now he was scheming, ensuring she understood how much pleasure he could give her. More than any mortal man ever could.

  Jerk!

  She trembled and gasped into his mouth. Dimly aware that she should protest, maybe even slap him because he was so damned egotistical. But she was so close. One more breath, and she’d be there.

  Val arched her hips against him and froze. A series of sweet, sharp bursts resonating through her as she cried out beneath him and came. His mouth slanted over hers, claiming everything, including the sound of her release. She felt him around her, could smell his cologne and clean skin, feel the slight abrasion of his chin against hers. Everything crystallized, the fog of lust that had gripped her from the moment he’d twined his hand in her hair, receding a little.

  Damn him! It worked!

  His lips were slightly swollen from kissing. His look was beyond knowing—it was the expression a predator shows its prey before batting it around a little. Was that the look he wore before he killed someone? A look that made a promise—that if she gave in, he’d make it good.

  Make the death so sweet, she might beg him for it.

  He pushed away from her, so that he stood next to the bed. He took off his shirt, and she looked at his chest. Smooth, pale and muscled. He still wore his jeans—the outline of his erection huge, hard and ready. She needed it, and him, inside of her now.

  Always.

  Lucas leaned forward and unsnapped her jeans, pulling them off of her, leaving her underwear on. Then he extended his hand, and she took it, let him pull her up a little as he pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it to the ground beside them. Val sat there, in Lucas’ bedroom, clad only in her pink bra and underpants while he looked at her intently.

  “I am going to make you come ag
ain,” he said, and his hands settled on her raised knees, slid along the tops of her thighs to her inner thighs. His words sizzled over her, her inner muscles clenching, the empty feeling inside of her becoming an ache. He pushed her legs open, leaving her underwear on, his weight over her again as he settled between her legs, notching deep into the vee of her legs.

  “I need you inside me,” she said, near whimpering.

  His body was taut, every inch of him like satin over steel. She moved under him, her body open and ready. She tilted her hips, wanting him to feel how soft and wet she was, like he’d feel it even through the layers of clothing. She kissed his neck, and then opened her mouth over his jugular as though she was going to bite down on him. Val knew he liked that, had done it to him once before, and it had almost made him lose control.

  This time she’d make it happen. He wanted to make a demonstration of her desire? That he could make her come with a touch? Fine. She could do it too. She’d break his will right back.

  She bit down, felt a shudder run through him, and gasped against his flesh. Her hands slid along his jaw, hands grabbing his head, forcing a kiss on him as she cried out his name, pouring the words into his mouth: “Take me, I need you. Please, Lucas. Please.” Her hands slid down to his buttocks. The muscles bunched under her fingers and she tried to urge him closer still.

  His brows drew down into a harsh expression, and he moaned in response. He palmed her hip, thrusting against her, his erection sliding over her clitoris. Her hands were between them, and she grabbed his cock through his clothing, then fumbled with the buttons of his jeans.

  He jerked away from her, taking off the rest of his clothing. His cock was huge and hard, flush against his stomach as he settled back over her.

  “My underwear,” she said.

  Lucas smiled slightly and, with the barest tug, he ripped them off of her, tossing them aside. He was over her, breathing hard, looking into her eyes as he took her hand between both their bodies, wrapped it around his cock, his fingers and the velvet slide of his shaft poised at the gate of her body. It was intimate and surreal, doing this together, focusing on the fact that they were both invested in the pleasure that was to come.