by Michele Hauf
That slur tipped him over the edge. Domingos lunged for the werewolf, yet was stopped not by Lark, but by Danni’s hands to his chest. Lark’s hand he felt smooth down his back, reassuring, but not stopping.
The werewolf had not moved, nor did he show fear. “Let him have a go at me,” Hart said. “He’s owed that much.”
“Not with a bunch of mortals on the boat,” Danni cautioned. “Though, if we were someplace private, I’d let him loose on you.”
Danni pushed Domingos away, and he came to a stand, but his ire fluttered high now and the irritant inner wailing spun. The whispers were so loud they grated against the curves of his skull. He gripped his head, and Lark shuffled him back a few steps, putting herself between him and the other two, gentling him with her presence.
“Don’t let it win,” she whispered. Her sweet scent threatened to still the madness. “You’re better than that.”
“You don’t know what it was like being caged,” he said, tucking his head against hers, not willing to let the wolf see his pain and anger, but unable to push it completely away.
“I know, lover. I don’t ever want to physically know. The boat has turned and is heading back. Another fifteen minutes. Can you make it?”
“Of course I can. I’m not an imbecile.” He gave his head a good shake and pounded it once. That seemed to joggle the whispers to background noise, and the mangy cats fled.
Cats. Heh. Fighting the wolf with a screaming invisible cat. Yep. He was a certified nutcase.
“Gunnar Svedson,” Hart offered. “That’s the knight you want.”
“Thank you,” Lark said, and stayed beside Domingos as the lights from the buildings onshore reflected across their faces in haunting flashes. “Give us a minute, will you?”
And she wrapped him in her arms, her hair falling over his face and her body crushing against his, surrounding him with her brightness and sweetness, and forcing him to think only of her. His luscious lover, his beautiful hunter, the woman who spoke to his soul.
His beautiful danger.
“What are we going to do now,” he asked, “about this information?”
“Nothing tonight. I’m going to take you home and make love to you and not think about anything like hunters or werewolves or nasty cages. Just you and me, lover. Then in the morning we’ll face reality.”
“I thought you were my reality.”
“Yes, and all that other stuff is my new wrong. You’re my right, Domingos. Do you understand that?”
Those words whispered over the noises inside his head and conquered them. “Yes.”
Domingos held Lark until the boat docked, and while Hart disembarked right away, Danni remained to give him one more hug.
“He feels bad,” she said about the hulking wolf who waited for her on the landing, his hands stuffed in his front jean pockets.
“I hold nothing against him,” Domingos offered. “The wounds are still sore, though. Give me some time before you invite us over for cocktails.”
“I will, but I will also consider that a date. We gotta stick together, we, the few vampires unaligned with a tribe. We can protect one another, yes?”
“As best I can, I will always be there for you, Danni.”
“I know you will. You’re a good man, Domingos. Goodbye, Lark. It was great to meet you. Take care of him.”
They watched Danni and Hart wander off, hand in hand, a vampire and a werewolf, and both agreed that if those two could manage a relationship, then they could, as well.
* * *
Instead of returning to Domingos’s home, he led her to the right bank and through the busy streets that glittered with lights and tourists still lingered, gazing into the windows of closed high-scale clothing and jewelry shops.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“My home is too dark and broody for us tonight. I want to treat you. Make love to you in style on fancy sheets.”
“I don’t need fancy, lover. I just want you.”
“Yes, but I want to see you in fancy. Indulge me?”
She shrugged. “Lead on. The glaring headlights don’t bother your eyes?”
“Nope, only UV light. I have definitely become a night creature, eh?”
“That was a surprise to me when I was learning about your breed, that vampires can walk in the day. Though I know there are a few strains of vampire who can’t do the rays. So you’re not a member of tribe Zmaj anymore?”
“No. I didn’t return after escaping from the Levallois compound. I didn’t want to inflict my crazy on them. And their new leader, Slater, is not exactly friendly. I’m thankful Danni is still my friend. She’s right, we need to stick together.”
“Maybe form your own tribe?”
“Maybe. There is something to be said for strength in numbers.”
“When you’re feeling more like your old self, perhaps,” she agreed.
They walked toward the Place des Vosges, an elite shopping area in which Lark had once loved to spend the entire day. High-heeled shoes had been her crack, and with Todd’s small trust fund she had indulged. After her miscarriage, she’d cut down on the spending, but not the window-shopping. A girl had to have some dreams to take her mind away from the real world on occasions.
As a knight she made a moderate salary, but she’d been sticking that money away for the future, which, in her new dreams, involved a cozy little cottage out in the country and maybe a studio in which to practice.
“Will you ever tell me about your mortal life?” she wondered as they strolled hand in hand down the street. “Intel reports you were a studio musician.”
“I was, and I played with a few local orchestras. Was getting into some alternative rock ’n’ roll stuff, as well. I’ll tell you all about it sometime. If you’ll tell me how a pretty girl ended up married to a vampire hunter, and then became one herself.”
“You know the part about me saying yes because I was pregnant. There’s not much else to tell. But whatever you want to know about my life, I’m an open book. But I warn you it’s boring.”
“Boring sounds pretty damn good to me.”
“I bet it does.” They turned down the Champs-Élysées. The street was always lit as if for a grand celebration. “Danni is pretty, and her boyfriend seems like he could be a nice guy. For a werewolf, that is. He was nervous around you, and very apologetic.”
“Yeah, but those scars on his face and neck. They should have healed. Something wrong with that.”
“No doubt.”
“No more talk about wolves, eh?”
“Right. Wait.” Larked recognized the elegant black wrought-iron porte-cochère before the hotel foyer. The doorman in regal forest-green livery nodded to them. “Are we staying at the Shangri-La?”
“You like?”
“Like? I’ve always wanted to stay here. It’s supposed to be ultraluxurious.” She rushed ahead toward the tall white, paned doors that led into the hotel. “Can we order room service? Something decadent that you can watch me eat?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Oh, my God, I love this!”
They checked in and Domingos secured them a suite overlooking the Tuileries Gardens, which were currently lit with decorative lighting strung through the chestnut trees in celebration of Bastille Day. The view from the patio was amazing. Across the river the Eiffel Tower twinkled, lit up like a Christmas tree. And on the Seine the boats cast golden waves in their wake across the darkened waters.
Right away, Lark called up room service and ordered champagne, caviar and rice pudding with rum-soaked currants. Sounded decadent, and she had a craving for something sweet.
Domingos stood on the threshold of the opened patio door, shirt unbuttoned and hands slack at his sides, watching the bustle in the royal gardens below while Lark pulled back the soft Egyptian cotton sheets and fluffed the pillows. She then wandered into the bathroom to inspect the soaps and shampoo and the soft, plush guest robes. Something about staying away from home w
as such a treat that she couldn’t contain her joy. Made her forget all the dire things that she probably should be thinking about.
“In the morning,” she decided with a wink to her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Tonight is for us.”
Shrugging off Domingos’s coat and her shoes, and following with her clothes, she slipped on the thick terry robe, then tiptoed up behind her lover and ran her hands down his chest. He smelled like the air outside, mingled with smoke and a tint of the river. She sensed his arousal and then felt it as she glided her hand lower and gave his erection a firm squeeze.
“I want you now, lover,” she said.
He turned from the sights and stepped into the room. “What about room service?”
“Threesomes are not my thing.” Tugging him toward the bed, she shoved him hard and he landed splayed across the emerald comforter. “Unless you want to invite the delivery guy in when he arrives?”
“No way, just the two of us.” With a tug of her hand, he pulled her onto him, and the hard crush of their bodies was an exquisite pain.
Domingos let out a harsh chuckle that he noticeably fought to control.
Lark bracketed his head with both hands and stared into his eyes. “No, not now,” she said to the intruders that inhabited his thoughts, perhaps his very soul. “He’s mine, and I will take him away from you.”
Such a Cheshire smile appeared on Domingos’s mouth she thought surely it wasn’t him, but instead the cats or violins, or those mysterious whispers. But he gripped her hips and flipped her onto her back, straddling her and planting a hard kiss at the side of her neck.
“I love you,” he said. “And I’m not going to ask why you can stand to be near me, but instead just take it for what it is.”
“What it is is love.” She pulled him down for a long, deep kiss. He ground his hips against hers, and she rocked against him because he’d pinned her wrists and she couldn’t use her hands to get him off. “Wait a second.”
He paused from the kiss, and followed her gaze out the window.
“It’s just so beautiful,” she said of the twinkling iron lady. “I’ve never really looked at it. You know, to admire the craftsmanship. And the view is perfect from here. It’s kind of phallic, isn’t it?”
“You just went from a pretty landmark to a penis reference, Lark. I like the way your brain works. It’s almost as twisted as mine.”
“I like twisty.”
He dived against her neck, his tongue lashing across her vein. When he traced the spot where he’d bitten her twice she felt an incredible erotic surge trace her skin. He’d marked her, and her body knew his touch. She wanted to feel his fangs penetrate her again, and squirmed within his tight grasp to free herself.
“You don’t need to touch right now,” he muttered against her neck. “You’re mine.”
“I want to touch your fangs.”
The sharp prick of his ivory tooth against her vein made her suck in a breath, and her body rose against his in anticipation.
“Mercy, you’re so wanting,” he growled. “Every touch, no matter how soft, speaks to you.”
“Yes, it makes me want your bite. I know it’s wrong but—”
“But we made our wrong a right, yes?”
“Yes,” she said on a gasp. “Please, Domingos?”
Two pinpricks pressed against her skin, the tip of his tongue teasing the heat of her as he did not sink them in but merely lingered there. Heart pounding, she anticipated the sweet pain of his intrusion.
A knock at the door brought her down from the tightened stretch of want in a gushing exhale.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“Room service. It’s my fault. Blame it on a need to indulge.”
Domingos rolled off her, arms outstretched and tonguing his fangs. Lark lingered as she crawled over him, teasing her finger across the tips of his fangs, until a second knock hurried her to answer the door. It was all on the room tab, so she had to merely sign.
“Open this.” She handed him the champagne after the bellboy had left, then dipped her finger into the caviar and tasted the tiny, salty black pearls that rolled across her tongue. “So good. You ever try?”
“Doesn’t look appealing.” He plopped onto the chair beside the food cart.
“Vampires can eat a little, yes?” She crawled onto his lap and fingered another wodge of caviar into her mouth. Then she kissed him, rolling her tongue across his, chasing the black jewels. “What do you think?”
“The kiss was great. The fish eggs?” He made a face. The cork popped out of the bottle and spilled onto the floor. Domingos made the save by putting the neck to his mouth and drinking the bubbling contents. “Ah... Much better. What about that other stuff? What did you order? Looks mushy.”
“It was on the dessert menu.” Lark leaned over from the chair and dipped her finger into the rice pudding. It smelled strongly of rum and cinnamon. A wodge sat warm on her tongue. “Mmm, I love this even more.”
She kissed him again, mixing the taste of champagne with the decadent treat.
“That is good. Another taste.” He scooped up a glob on his finger and she opened her mouth, but half the pudding landed on her cleavage. “Messy. But I couldn’t have planned that one better.”
He bent to her chest, his tongue seeking the sweet dessert. He pulled aside the robe and sucked her skin clean.
Lark dipped her fingers into the rice pudding and this time managed a mouthful of the dessert, but he pulled her head down for another kiss and they mingled and tasted each other. She crushed her breasts up against his chest, and the sticky trail of food smeared into his skin.
Taking the champagne bottle from him, she tilted back a swallow. It was so bubbly that she choked a little, then laughed, and almost spat it out. “It went up my nose! This stuff is crazy.”
“Better the drink than me, eh?”
“Apparently I like my men a little crazy.”
“Do you? All that hair pulling and screaming at nothing turns you on?”
“It’s the never knowing what you’ll do next, and the surprises, that I adore.”
“And my bite?”
“Yes.” She stroked one of his fangs and he moaned deeply. “Your lovely fangs. I will have them inside me before the night is over.”
“You will. Promise.”
“But what I love most about you?” she said. “Is simply you. You’re unique, and different, and, well, I love you this way. Promise me you’ll never be normal?”
“Normal sounds good sometimes. Kind of like boring. But if you prefer me crazy, I have a feeling I won’t have to try too hard to achieve that goal. More sweet stuff, please.” He stuck out his tongue and waggled it at her.
Lark stepped back from his lap and stood before him, parting the robe and letting it fall to the floor. She glided her hand down from her shoulder, slowly over her breast and along her stomach to rest on her mons. “How about this sweet stuff?”
Her vampire lover lunged forward onto his knees and looked up to her as he strolled his fingers down her stomach and to her hips. Lark felt certain she had never seen a more adoring gaze from a man. It was a look she could get used to.
Sliding her fingers through his hair she then directed his head toward her mons, and when his tongue lashed out to taste the dessert she offered him, she bent forward, drawing her palms across his damaged back. The scarred and papery skin displayed a map of his pain, and she navigated it tenderly with a feather touch. And he did the same at the junction of her thighs. Until he did not, and his touch grew deeper, harder, more intense, and she gripped hanks of his hair and supported herself upon his shoulders as he deftly brought her to orgasm.
As her body shuddered and her breath gasped out, he rose before her and pushed her into the bed. She landed, face forward, in the midst of orgasm, hands catching the sheets. He grabbed her hips and plunged deep inside her from behind to take advantage of her pulsing muscles.
The vampire cried out in pleasure as he rammed
inside her. And Lark met his vigorous thrusts with rhythmic shifts of her hips against his. Hard and hurried, he was not gentle, pressing a hand to her back and gripping her hip. And when he came, she felt as though he surrendered all he had to her, and the trust was so implicit that no one could ever part them no matter what tactics they used.
Chapter 19
“Bite me,” the hunter whispered in the vampire’s ear.
As aroused as he still was after making love to Lark for hours nestled within the soft sheets, Domingos’s cock stood up at attention at the sound of those two words. He slid down Lark’s lithe body, kissing every inch of her skin in his path, until he landed the spot he ranked as one of his five favorite places on her body.
“Right here,” he said, and licked the curvy underside of her breast. “You’ll taste so good here.”
The graze of her fingernails across his scalp sent good shivers down his neck, and the inner whispers took a little thrill from that, too. But when he nudged his nose against her breast, the whispers receded as his focus and desire increased. Her breast filled his hand, and the nipple hardened against his palm. She spread her legs, and he moved his hips so he lay between them and on her stomach. He loved when she hooked a leg up over his back and it didn’t hurt his damaged skin so much because, well, because all he could think about was tasting her blood again.
Poking his fangs against her skin, he nudged gently as if testing a balloon that might pop, and then slowly, taking his time because the sweet first droplets of blood hitting his palate were always the best, he pierced her.
Lark’s nails dug into his scalp, and her hips rocked. She rubbed her mons against his chest, working at the sensitive nub that would get her off, while he sank his fangs as deep as they would go. His lips pressed hard to her hot flesh, his tongue teasing at the wodge of skin his teeth dug up into his mouth. Normal vamps would now retract their fangs, but he had to physically lift them from her body.
As he exited her skin, Lark’s moan grew orgasmic, and the hot blood spilled into his mouth. It swirled over his tongue like wine, and satisfied his needs like ice water on a hot summer day.
