Mallory found her hands worrying the ends of Leigh’s thick, dark hair. He looked up at her, his open, unguarded expression making him appear so much younger than Mallory knew him as. He was a vampire, so he was ageless, but the way Mallory saw him through Marlyna’s eyes made her think things like sweet and innocent, instead of the temperamental and dangerous visage he presented in the world of Mallory’s lifetime.
Leigh slid his large hands up her legs, massaging her thighs in an attempt to comfort her. The calming effect dissolved into a heat that flooded Mallory with longing. She didn’t know if she’d become so much a part of Marlyna’s personality that the two of them were thinking as one entity, but Mallory no longer heard a separate inner voice. She was alone in the body of Marlyna and the mind inside wanted Leigh with undeniable fervor.
“Kiss me again,” Mallory requested as she moved her hands from Leigh’s hair to cup his face.
Leigh kissed her hands, her wrists, and her fingertips. Instead of making his way up to her mouth, he lifted her skirt and kissed along her knees and bare thighs. Spikes of pleasure and anticipation surged through her, settling in a warm weight in her lower abdomen. Mallory realized she wore no under clothing. She was fully open to Leigh’s exploration.
When Leigh moved his mouth upward, he placed his hands on her inner thighs and pushed as wide as they’d go. Her legs were prevented from moving further by the sturdy wooden arms of the chair, held in place so firmly that Mallory expected she might bruise from the force. The small amount of pain coupled with the shivers up and down every nerve ending from the stroking of Leigh’s tongue on her skin was delicious.
Pulling her forward with one quick, jerking movement, Leigh plunged his face into the core of warmth and wetness. He worked his tongue with varying strokes of force and gentleness, teasing small moans and quick gasps from Mallory.
The frantic pace he set and the electric sensation of his powerful lapping, questing tongue against her most sensitive spot had Mallory leaning back in ecstasy. She dug fingers into her own hair, twining them into the long, silky strands as she panted his name.
“Leigh…Oh, yes!”
He knew her body well. The pace and pressure required to bring her to orgasm were hardwired into him, perfected by their time together. She came with his mouth sealed around her clit, tongue flicking the delicate bud. She bucked against him and though his fangs pierced her most sensitive skin, it only heightened her pleasure.
After her tremors had subsided and the waves of bliss had expended her strength, Leigh rose to kiss her. She ground her lips against his until she tasted his blood mingling with her own. When Leigh pulled away, her mouth was wet with his saliva, her pleasure, and both of their blood.
She needed him to be inside of her, craved it like the sweet liquid on her tongue. She whispered his name again and he knew her desire without more words. Lifting and crushing her against him, Leigh ravished Mallory’s mouth. They tore at each other’s clothes and freed skin until they were both naked.
Leigh took her to the floor and plunged himself inside of her. The desperation turned to sweetness as he worked himself within her and she lifted herself to meet his thrusts. Her world was perfection. All she knew was Leigh.
Afterward, they rested together in a mess of tangled and destroyed clothing.
“We need to get dressed and then we must go, love.” He nuzzled her neck to calm her when her heart rate spiked.
Marlyna returned in Mallory’s awareness, as close to toppling over the dangerous precipice of fear as ever. Instead of giving into the panic, she kissed him deeply and allowed him to help her to stand.
“Anywhere with you,” she vowed quietly.
As the vision began to dissolve around the edges, Mallory lost her connection to Marlyna and became more aware of her surroundings. From the dark hallway outside the barely open door, she sensed more than saw a watcher. She felt a strong surge of suspicion and distrust, and strained to identify the watcher. All she was able to see as the vision slipped away was a glimpse of prying eyes. Quite singular, easily identifiable, beautiful green eyes.
Chapter Nine
Mallory entertained a lazy sweep of awareness that urged her from her dreaming world. She didn’t need to hear the fading whisper telling her the dream had taken place in the past, but the murmur did help to hasten her awakening.
Her body was vibrating with sensation and she was surprised to find her hand buried between her thighs. She couldn’t stand the sensation of clothing on her skin while she slept, so she was naked on the couch under a thin blanket that wasn’t so bothersome to her.
She felt the aftershock ripples of orgasm pulsing through her. It was a rare thing but she’d masturbated herself in her sleep before. Certainly not the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last either.
When she drew her hand away, she rubbed the moisture between her fingertips, wondering why on Earth her body would decide to be such a harlot in the house of a man who was still practically a stranger.
She needed a towel.
Before she stood to plunder Leigh’s laundry room, a vague movement caught Mallory’s notice. She pulled the blanket over her bare breasts, but her attempt at modesty seemed unnecessary to her when Henry stepped into view. He didn’t have any interest in seeing what she was showing.
He scented the air pointedly and his fangs flashed as he grinned at her.
“Having some fun, my dear?” he asked in the barest murmur of sound. Mallory looked toward Leigh’s closed door, wondering how she should proceed with the situation. She wanted to talk to Henry without Leigh’s interference, and she saw this as her potential only chance.
“Stress release,” she said under her breath. Henry offered a widening smile as he sat and tipped his head back toward Leigh’s room.
“He’s a hard sleeper,” Henry confided in a louder voice. “You won’t wake him.”
“You would know.” Henry’s eyes darkened at Mallory’s retort. He knew what she was implying, and heard the standoffishness in her tone.
“Do you fear me, child?” Mallory shook her head and kept her gaze firmly focused on Henry’s singular green eyes. She’d seen those eyes in a sense of suspicion. She wanted to know about him, and about Leigh.
She didn’t need to be afraid of Henry, Mallory told herself as she watched him eye her with cool interest. Leigh wouldn’t let a true threat near her.
“I’m not afraid.” Her proclamation sounded strong and convincing. Henry smiled at her, arrogant disbelief etched into his features.
“If you are not afraid, why does your breath shiver and your heart tremble?”
His smirk dared her to object and his cold eyes grew colder with challenge, turning the sea foam-green to the color of dying grass beneath a frost.
“My body is preparing for a threat, not responding to fear. Are you here to threaten me while Leigh sleeps?”
At her words, Henry seemed to morph into a jovial, amicable being, more friend than frightening foe. He shone with mirth that made him approachable and becoming. Mallory trusted him less as his attractiveness grew.
“Dear child, I felt it when Leigh made you and have come to assist in making you strong. I wish to teach you wisdom and win your trust. I would never dream of harming or threatening blood of my heart.”
Leigh had called her that, as well, Mallory noted. She’d suspected that it wasn’t an affectionate term when he’d used it and Henry’s addressing her the same way confirmed it for her. Blood of my heart was used as a label to signify those who shared a vampiric bloodline. The confirmation stuck a tiny, cold needle of hurt into her heart.
“All right,” Mallory agreed. She would not trust him, but maybe she could gain from him the information that she desired. “Tell me about Leigh.”
“He is the most powerful and beautiful of any of those that I have brought to the blood.” Mallory could hear pride, admiration, and love in Henry’s tone. How did Leigh miss it, she wondered.
“Who is Marlyna?�
�� she questioned. She’d known the woman through her vision, heard her thoughts, and felt her inner torment. Henry had said her name. Mallory wanted to hear what he knew of her.
Henry put a hand over his heart and his expression became crestfallen.
“Marlyna’s is a very tragic story,” he said with a sigh. Mallory urged him to tell it with her eyes, so he did.
“Leigh met Marlyna hundreds of years ago. They fell in love almost immediately. She completed him, perfected him, and their happiness was undeniable. Alas, he was only able to enjoy a few short months of her company.”
Mallory interjected with a very pointed, “Why?”
Henry hesitated, his frown making him all the more beautiful. “Some cannot withstand the change,” he confided. “Many die before the transformation is complete. Others awaken as deranged beasts that must be destroyed by their makers as soon as they rise.”
But they had months…Mallory thought. What happened to Marlyna?
With the heaviness of sorrow in his tone, Henry told her. “Some are not so lucky.”
“Lucky?” Mallory asked, incredulously. “How could those who have to be killed or die in the process be defined as the lucky ones?”
Henry gave her a look that told Mallory he was sympathetic to her ignorance and said, “Because the others don’t suffer right away. Marlyna’s madness spiraled out of control over the course of several weeks. She was killing people—viciously—and leaving their bodies for others to see. They knew the killer was neither man nor beast, and the suspicion fell on Leigh and Marlyna.”
“She didn’t know.” Mallory found the words leaving her mouth without her consent or intention. The pain she felt from Marlyna shimmered in her eyes as a sheen of empathetic tears. Henry observed her reaction with calculation before he spoke again.
“No,” he admitted. “The insanity stole the knowledge of her atrocities from her, leaving her filled with fear, paranoia, and suspicion. Leigh was the only one who could calm her, but in the end, even he was powerless to save her. The change destroyed her mind, and to stop her rampage, we were forced to destroy the rest of her.”
“We?” Mallory echoed. “You were with them for this?” Mallory remembered eyes at the doorway, a lurking presence in the hall. Besides her death, what else had Henry contributed to? Could he as maker of her maker have had something to do with her madness?
Henry sighed again, a deep and exaggerated sound. “Leigh brought her to me, to try to address the issue. He thought I could help save her. I suppose, in a terrible way, I did.” He trailed off and his green eyes were misty pools of sorrow. Mallory didn’t trust his grief for an instant.
“How often does this happen?” she asked.
“It is called Munetero, in the language of our ancient line. Words of demons, some of us would say. It is an infrequent occurrence. I know of only two sufferers besides Marlyna in my long experience.”
Mallory drew her knees up to her chest and tested the evil-sounding word on her own tongue. “Munetero. What does it mean?”
Henry’s frown deepened. He waffled his hands in the air, seeking the right words. “Blood insanity or mutiny of blood. The old words are mostly lost but a few remain. This is one of them, and it is applied to a youngling whose mind cannot withstand the change.”
“He thinks it could happen to me, too, doesn’t he?”
Henry made a show of considering Mallory’s proposal with utmost seriousness. Mallory didn’t need his confirmation on her theory. She knew that what had happened with Marlyna had destroyed a part of Leigh. Before Henry could respond to her previous inquiry, she fired another at him. “Did he make any others between Marlyna and me?”
Henry weighed the impact the knowledge would have only briefly before he said, “No.”
“Thank you, Henry.” Mallory kept her tone irreproachably polite as she stood. She wanted a shower before the night came.
“What has he told you that makes you seek such troublesome pieces of his past?” Henry’s query was casual but Mallory caught the barest hint of concern in his words. She decided to shock him.
“He told me I will have to kill him after we rescue my family. He said he’s tired of life and wants to return my humanity to me.”
Henry’s green eyes went wide, and that dramatic hand returned to cover his heart. It was one of his go-to gestures for impact.
“We cannot allow it!” he protested.
“If he’s tired of life, it isn’t our place to try to prevent what he wants.” Henry looked stricken.
“But you seem to assume he fears for you, and that is why he would return you to human life. What if we could ensure you do not fall to the Munetero and keep you both?”
Mallory was quickly learning the difference between Henry’s staged reactions and his genuine emotions. His grief at the possibility of losing Leigh resonated as real with Mallory. “What can we do?” she asked.
Henry stood, as well. He was full of too much nervous energy to stay seated. He paced, and Mallory watched.
“Something we must keep secret from Leigh,” he finally suggested. “Something dangerous, but it is the only possible shield against the Munetero.”
“Why secret?” Mallory questioned. Henry caught her gaze and Mallory realized that he had an effective mental barrier against her psychic powers. She didn’t like it. She wondered if it was a talent all vampires had and resolved to ask Leigh about it at another time.
“At great risk to himself, a maker can mingle blood with a youngling, to strengthen her. The youngling becomes more powerful, more resilient, but there is a chance the maker can lose himself to her-in part or in full.”
“Do you think you’d be in danger of that?” Mallory asked, and Henry gave her a quirky, sexy smile in response. He’d melt the heart of any lady who hadn’t seen him looking at Leigh.
“You are lovely as a winter rose. The chances would be grave indeed.”
“I’m a fighter, not a flower,” Mallory objected. “If this can help to calm Leigh’s fears, I’m willing to try it.”
“We must not tell him until the success is confirmed,” Henry insisted.
“Because he won’t want to risk both of us if he thinks his plan will only harm him,” Mallory guessed.
“Exactly,” Henry confirmed. “So shall we begin now?”
Mallory looked hesitantly at Leigh’s closed door. She wanted time to debate, but what time did she have?
“How long until sunset?” she asked.
“Less than an hour.”
Mallory knew the old vampire could feel the oncoming night. She did trust his judgment of time, if nothing else.
“Let me get dressed.” She would wash with a cloth at the sink, she decided. A shower would have to be put aside for the time being.
“I await you patiently, my dear. But though we have an endless supply, time is not our friend.”
With his warning in her mind, Mallory entered the bathroom and closed the door. She soaked a pale green washcloth in the low-sitting brown sink, noticing that Leigh kept the forest theme into his bathroom. The towels were all colored in earthy shades and the two rugs on the floor were a deep, healthy green, like wet leaves at night. The shower curtain was brown, but thin enough to see through. There were no windows, but Mallory didn’t need external light to see. What filtered beneath the crack of the door was sufficient and she marveled at her new capabilities even as she cursed them.
Rubbing the damp cloth over her skin was driving her to insanity. All nerve endings were alight with sensation. When she swept the material over her breasts, the nipples tightened and hardened painfully. She almost dreaded the washcloth between her legs, but the moisture there would bother her all night if she didn’t wash it away.
The heightened sensitivity of the time just after an orgasm was a simple shadow compared to the shuddering, electrical shock delivered by touching herself after The Turn. Mallory thought she almost didn’t want to have sex with Leigh when she was so very sensitive. His body
in hers had already caused her the most intense sensations she’d ever experienced. What would she feel now that she was a much more responsive creature?
A soft knock at the door broke Mallory from her thoughts and she quickly toweled herself dry. She wiggled into her underwear and lamented the need for a bra. It was so confining.
After slipping into tight jean shorts that clung to her ass and a long, blood-red tank top that covered the salacious shorts down to their hem, Mallory ran her hands through her curling hair until the knots were worked out. She secured the blond tresses into a quick, sloppy braid and slung it back over her shoulder.
Ready as ever, she thought to herself as she eased the door open.
Chapter Ten
“Quickly,” Henry suggested. Mallory acquiesced with a short nod. The night was coming, and Leigh would be awake soon.
“This won’t interfere with what I need to do tonight?” Mallory sat hesitantly on the couch with Henry after her inquiry.
He gave her that smile she mistrusted and took her hand. “Not at all,” he assured her. “If anything, it will be the extra power you need to ensure the demise of your enemies.”
Drawing a fingertip over the vein in her wrist, Henry gave Mallory the opportunity to back out of the situation. When she voiced no objection, Henry brought her hand up to his mouth, palm up, so her blue veins fairly shown beneath the fragile barrier of skin on her wrist. His breath stroked the fine hairs as he lowered his open mouth to her flesh. She didn’t see his fangs descend, but felt them when he bit into her.
The sharp incisors drove down, causing a grinding ache. It felt like hard sex without foreplay, a weight too heavy, an intrusion of something too hard into something too tight. Her skin gave way unwillingly, and Mallory smelled the blood bursting onto Henry’s tongue before she saw it rushing from the open wound.
It had been so different when Leigh drew from her, Mallory thought as Henry punctured his own wrist. The blood flowed and Mallory felt hunger explode into her. She groaned with the ache of it, and Henry pressed his mouth to hers to swallow the sound as he crushed their bleeding wounds together.
Pierced [Pain & Love 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 7
