Ophelia backhanded her.
Lora’s head flew back. The front two legs of the chair tipped off the floor. Demetrius didn’t twitch.
A dark laugh left the maid. “Where do you think we got the idea of approaching the parents?”
She recoiled. This tidy bitch was laying the blame for recruiting and tricking children at the corrupt feet of Ophelia’s family?
As if Master and Madame LeFevre had coined the shitty-parents gig.
Oh well. It didn’t bother her any.
Yet a tendril of guilt and a sense of responsibility snaked through her. She hadn’t told anyone what had happened until last night. If she had, would it have helped? Or would it have just made her a target?
She wanted to roundhouse kick Lora. Just because.
“Why don’t you retire for the night, Ophelia?” Demetrius moved closer, edging her to the side. “I think Quution and I need to have a longer talk with Lora.”
A hot flush of rage that mirrored shame way too closely flashed through her. She was being dismissed because Demetrius thought it was getting too personal for her.
He wasn’t wrong.
“Catch me up at nightfall.” Good. Her voice had been steady.
For fuck’s sake. She’d buried her past so damn well, why was it resurging now?
She was no longer a child, and she’d done nothing wrong. Demetrius had made a judgment call and it pissed her off. She held back from storming to her room and proving him right.
Part of what upset her was that she wanted to do nothing more than flee to Bastian’s room, make supper, and tell him everything. Then have sex. And more sex.
But she didn’t feel like a lecture on how they should warn their species about recent events and the danger the underworld posed. If she wanted to talk about that stuff, she’d take the Synod up on their offer to serve. Hard pass.
Bastian didn’t realize the downfall. He wasn’t a prime; he only worked for them. Ophelia and Demetrius were born and raised prime and knew how devious and underhanded and downright evil they could be in order to hold on to what was theirs and neutralize anything that threatened it. Their bloodlines paralleled the demons’ after all.
She went through the motions of the shower. Ignoring the lingering scent of Bastian in her room was harder, but she managed as she dressed in clean tactical pants and a fresh black shirt. She was going out. A sunrise would singe away her troubles.
Should she check on him before she left?
Or would she get an earful about how none of this should’ve happened in the first place? Or would she get waylaid in his bed? Because that sounded even better than a sunrise all by herself. Which had never been the case.
Nope. She was going straight to the cabin.
She strode out of her room, through the compound, and outside. She flashed immediately.
Appearing next to the hammock, the chill of the wind nipping her cheeks, she turning to face the cabin.
Hellfire. Bastian was here. Her body hummed when he was close. How? It wasn’t like they were mated. Yet she couldn’t deny she was attuned to him.
A male so different from any she’d known. It was hard to buy his good-guy routine as being completely genuine. Would he not use anyone to his own advantage? He had with the Gastons. They would’ve never hired him if they’d known he was nothing but a country kid with no training in service. He’d duped them to make a life for himself.
But he’d taken young Antonia under his wing. How would that have benefitted him?
Mold the next generation into relinquishing the way of life they clung to in order to pave a path to power for nonprimes? That didn’t seem like Bastian. And talk about long-term scheming. Something she had exceled at, once, when she’d given a shit. No, Bastian had taken care of Antonia because it’d been the right thing to do.
Once the vampire council had been toppled, Ophelia had coasted. She’d hooked up with Nadair in the name of the mission and had only acted when called upon by her team.
Was it possible she was getting burned out?
How long had she been pondering her circumstances while Bastian stared at her out of the cabin window?
She lifted a brow.
“I’m sorry,” his voice filtered through the glass. “I didn’t know you planned on coming here for solitude.”
“I hadn’t.” She started for the cabin, choosing to crunch through the snow instead of flashing. “But Demetrius kicked me out of the interrogation.”
“Too personal?” He swung open the door for her. It barely made a sound when usually the wood wrenching groaned through the woods.
“She was baiting me.” She didn’t close the door behind her but swung it back and forth. “Did you fix this?”
He nodded like it was no big deal. “A couple of the hinge bolts were coming out and made the door hang off-kilter.”
“I bet it’s hard seeing it like this.” She hadn’t done a damn thing to the cabin. She’d assembled the hammock frame and that was it.
“It’s surreal.” He left her to wander through the rooms, narrating as he went. “It was revolutionary of us to live aboveground. I see the heavy shutters my father had installed were removed. I suppose humans didn’t see the purpose of them. My room was the first one down the hall. My parents didn’t want me to have a corner room.” He smiled over his shoulder. “Windows.”
She followed his clean-shower scent. Like her, he’d washed and changed.
“Was this your furniture?” she asked.
“Yes.” He laughed, the sound deep and rueful. She couldn’t help her smile. “I didn’t recognize it at first, but yes.” He charged to the back bedroom. When he disappeared inside, his chuckle drifted out. “My mother rescued this quilt from a camper’s trash. She washed it and mended it.”
Ophelia crossed to the bed. Fading moonlight glowed through each window in the room. A faded blanket with several patterned blocks was draped over the queen-sized bed. Several areas that had required patches were visible, but like Bastian claimed, they’d been neatly mended.
“It’s nice.” And she meant it.
Bastian’s mom had seen the worth in the blanket when the previous owners had given up on it. She’d infused it with life that was still apparent so many years later.
“What was your mother’s name?”
Bastian’s smile was faint. “Angel.” He eased his weight down on the bed. “How’d the talk with Lora really go?” The springs creaked and dust puffed up. It was cold in the cabin, but without the wind, it was tolerable.
She sat next to him. Their breath billowed between them. She hesitated to tell him, but he’d seen possession firsthand and knew they had colleagues in the underworld. He could connect the dots.
“Quution, our colleague in the underworld, possessed her. He forced her to name the Circle member sending his minions.” Ophelia clasped her hands on her thighs. “She also said that everyone knew what happened to me. Not all staff respect the secrecy of their household’s indiscretions, and apparently ours liked to gossip.”
His big hand closed over hers. “I’m sorry.”
Ophelia let the rest spill out. “She said that’s where they got the idea for targeting children. They learned from me how susceptible they are, and how easily the parents could be bought, bribed, or coerced.”
“It’s not your fault what they’ve done.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.” Her brain ran lines of logic, but her emotions overrode it all.
“Ever since there’s been vampires, there’s been deception, Ophelia. Your family didn’t create it, they only expanded upon it. And you were a child. Never accept any blame. Never.”
She twisted where she sat and gazed up at him. He’d said all the right words. She’d needed to hear him, and now that her mind was settling, her body wanted comfort. “How much time do we have before dawn?”
His gaze dipped to her lips and his pupils dilated. “Enough.”
&
nbsp; Heat bloomed, raw and needy. Fast and hard sex could right the discourse running through her.
He cupped her chin and tilted her head up. She grabbed his head and dragged it down to her mouth.
“We have time,” he murmured against her mouth.
“No, we don’t.” She shouldn’t risk him. That was as good an excuse as any. But she wanted to stay here with him. She’d been flayed open since her confession to Bastian and tonight had been salt in the wound.
She deepened the kiss and he answered, his weight gently pushing her back.
Not how she wanted it. Resisting his efforts, she pivoted until her feet hit the ground. Their kiss wasn’t broken, but it gave her access to his fly.
His hands landed at her waist. He’d do what she wanted. That was the type of guy he was.
When she’d freed his shaft, she broke their lip-lock and sank to her knees.
“Ophelia.” Her name in his husky timbre was an erotic caress.
She wrapped her hand around him. Hot, velvet-covered steel, so wide her fingertips didn’t meet. He was magnificent. She could imagine being blanketed by him and for once the thought of a male on top of her didn’t repulse her. She could almost imagine adding the missionary position back into her repertoire. But not tonight.
Closing her lips around the tip of his cock, she swiped her tongue across him. His salty flavor, and the way his hips jacked off the bed, pleased her.
So much power over a male using nothing but her mouth. Normally, she relished it, gloated over the way she reduced arrogant males to simpering just by fucking them. But with Bastian her outlook morphed into something else. She liked his reaction. Was flattered by it.
Licking up and down his length, she suctioned against the top and he bucked. Her name rode his lips.
“You’ve gotta stop.” He gently lifted her head. “I won’t last.”
She pushed a loose tendril of hair out of her face and released him. “I…like doing this for you.”
When had she started sounding so wanton, so close to desperation? It was ridiculous to think she could climax from pleasuring him, but his ecstasy was hers.
“Then come here.” He pulled her as he laid back. Only he grabbed her waist and settled her over his face.
Yes. She was on top and they’d both get off. And…she’d still get to finish him the way she’d started. She relished the idea as much as her sex quaked for his tongue.
She anchored her hands on his hips as he worked one of her legs free. Her right boot hit the floor and cool air wafted over her bare ass.
She held her breath as he positioned his face between her thighs. Hot breath caressed her sweltering skin.
Settling over him, she descended on him with her mouth and worked the base of his shaft with her hands.
He groaned and clamped down on her ass cheeks, bringing her sex to his lips. She bucked at the first flick of his tongue but didn’t move away. The ecstasy was instant. He didn’t slack because he was on the receiving end and concerned about his own finish. He stroked her, changing his technique when she responded with an enthusiastic thrust of her hips or moaned over his length.
She almost forgot herself and abandoned sucking him. He didn’t seem to mind her lapse in catering to his needs. There was no pushing her head or pumping his hips until he choked her. He was too engaged in her pleasure, and that was new for her. She liked it.
Pressure built, and she rode it as long as she could. When they were together like this, she was in the moment. Her past didn’t pursue her. Her future wasn’t a vast expanse of unknown to dread. It was her and Bastian, soaking in each other.
He pulsed against her tongue. As her climax hit, her grip around him tightened. He undulated but held her tight against him. She writhed and moaned, riding the wave, but not letting up. He tensed and roared, the vibration traveling through her sex, ramping up the end of her orgasm until she saw stars.
He released, and she accepted him. They were curled around each other as they came. The position was shockingly intimate, but it was one of the first times she’d felt close to a lover.
They eased off each other. He maneuvered himself behind her, hugging her back to his chest. His erection wasn’t fading, and his pants were still unlatched. She wore only one of her boots, and her pants hung off one leg.
The typical restless energy that prompted her to either hop out of bed or continue the fucking was absent.
Relaxing in her afterglow in Bastian’s arms was new. And not unpleasant. She enjoyed this, too, cuddling. The feelings she expected to plague her as soon she sank into his welcome embrace weren’t unmanageable.
She liked Bastian. More than as just a friend. He wasn’t a trained fighter, and the grim determination he’d shown while fighting the demon made it clear he was a reluctant fighter at best, but she felt safe with him. Safe in a way she’d never experienced before, despite being surrounded by males that could keep her physically protected.
The room brightened with each minute that passed. Her sunrise would be starting soon.
Bastian laid a kiss on top of her hair. “I don’t want this to end. But I will meet my end if I don’t seek shelter soon.”
Right. He couldn’t handle as much light as she could. She rose and righted her clothing. He did the same and waited for her to secure her boot before they walked back to the porch.
“Want to come over when we get back?” he asked. He stood over her, but not in an intimidating way. She liked it, just like when they’d cuddled. He wasn’t insistent, he wasn’t overly grabby. He respected her space and let her make the first move.
But was she ready for more warm and fuzzies?
“We’ll see after the sunrise. I came here to catch one.” Not a total lie. She’d come here to watch and sort out her thoughts.
Being with Bastian had settled some of those thoughts. But he spurred his own…considerations. And she needed time to consider.
He dropped a warm kiss to her forehead that sent tingles shivering down her spine. “My door is unlocked. If you decide to retire for the day, have a good rest.”
He flashed away before she could respond. Maybe he didn’t want her to feel pressured.
With a sigh, she rested her arms on the wooden porch railing. Her gaze fixed on the pale pinks, faint lavenders, and soft oranges lighting the horizon.
Why was she here when she had a sexy male to get it on with?
Because no male would cost her everything again. That was why.
Her resolve sank in and she watched the sunrise until her skin prickled to the point of discomfort.
Chapter Twelve
Bastian finished whisking the eggs and slid the bowl to Ophelia. He enjoyed cooking, but he could watch her in the kitchen all day. Her body was fluid, her muscles relaxed as she puttered around. It was probably the most effective therapy she’d allowed herself.
She flipped the last batch of pancakes out of the pan. Without looking, she snagged the bowl and dumped its contents into a hot pan. The satisfying sizzle made her lips quirk.
His stomach rumbled. He looked as forward to dining with her as he did to cooking with her.
When she’d flung open his door and strode in, he’d been watching TV. Waiting. Hoping. Wondering how long a sunrise took. Her skin had been flushed and hot, but she hadn’t said anything and neither had he.
They’d spent hours in various positions, not really in each other’s arms. Which was fine with him. Something about the male-on-top version of sex still bothered her. But she’d stayed the day and that was a major development as far as he was concerned.
The food finished cooking and she worked on plating it while he loaded the dishwasher. He had questions, but once they sat and ate, his body demanded nourishment first.
They’d fed from each other. Another punch to his gut—in all the best ways.
The way she clenched around him when his fangs were inside of her—
“Stop it,” she
said with a hint of a smile. “I won’t make it to work if you keep projecting your thoughts like that.”
He’d be okay with that. Of course, he didn’t know what there was to do. “Speaking of that, what’s going on today?”
She shrugged and pushed her plate to the side. “We’ll start searching the places where Master Gaston might be hiding. He could be hiding at Susanna Caron’s, but with her mate, it might be too big of a risk. We’ll try her servants’ place and any vacation homes the Carons might have. Quution and Creed and Melody are going to confront Spectre.”
“Will they kill him?”
“Maybe. Fighting a purebred has its own dangers. But it’s not like there’s any sanctions they can use to control his behavior. I don’t know. It’s weird down there. The purebreds on the Circle are stuck in the mindset of conquering our realm. If the second-tiers on the Circle are too heavy-handed with them, then the rest of the purebred population could revolt.”
“And the purebreds might win,” Bastian finished for her. “And you’d be back to where you started.”
“You got it. Demetrius is consulting with Quution and Melody, who are siphoning information and agendas and opinions from the rest of the Circle.”
Ah yes. Demetrius’s contacts on the Circle itself. He did not envy their position or the decisions they’d have to make. But he couldn’t help but wonder what the vampires in this realm would think of it all.
Hey, demons are trying to infiltrate this realm. They want to use your bodies as hosts. They want to bond with you and your children to give them free rein to wander our realm. But don’t worry, our government is working with them to control the influence.
Ophelia’s expression shuttered. “And there it is. Your thoughts are written all over your face.”
No, he didn’t think they were. They’d been drawn to each other since meeting. Already he knew Ophelia was special to him, in a very important way. They were connected, possibly true mates. The more he considered it, the more it made sense. But something told him that Ophelia wouldn’t admit that in the near future.
Yet she didn’t claim to read that in his expression.
Bastian GP Page 17
