by Lara Adrian
Finally, he glanced up. He scowled, which seemed to be his usual expression whenever she was around. “Is anything wrong?”
“No.” She shrugged, lifting her mug. “I hope you don’t mind that I made some tea.”
“Of course, I don’t mind.” He waited as if expecting her to leave then. Or hoping, maybe.
Naomi stepped into the room, glancing at the collection of pieces stored there. Hand-crafted chairs. Handsome side tables. A pair of bookcases. Even a tall armoire. Plenty of beautiful things to outfit most of the house. And all of it was expertly made, nothing less than a work of art.
She couldn’t resist walking over for a closer look. “These are some amazing pieces. Why did Ned keep them all back here?”
“A few of them are his,” Asher replied, his tone unreadable. “The rest are mine.”
She swung an incredulous look at him. “Yours, as in you made them?”
He gave a vague nod. “Ned taught me the craft, before he lost his sight and the use of his hands. At first, I only helped him finish the things he had to abandon. After a while, I found working with my hands was a good way to occupy my mind, especially when I’m cooped up inside during the daytime.”
She glanced at the headboard with its flourishes and interlocking swirls of inlaid wood. A pattern that was echoed on Asher’s skin. “You’re really good at this. You should move some of these pieces into the other rooms of the house. The side tables would work really great in the living room instead of the old ones in there now. If you want, I could show you how I’d arrange them.”
He was staring at her as if she had just offered to shave his head. “I don’t spend much time in the living room and I have no use for any of these things in here. It’s just Sam and me in the house, and we don’t need much.”
“Have you ever thought of selling what you make, then?” She set her mug on a workbench so she could run her hand over the satiny curve of one of the chairs. “It seems like a shame to let beautiful things gather dust when someone could enjoy them.”
“I have no interest in selling them, either.” He put his sanding block down, aggravated and curt now. His gaze swept her from head to toe, displeasure in his tense expression. “You’re still wearing my shirt. There’s a small laundry room off the kitchen if you want to wash your clothes.”
She offered a smile that went unreturned. “Thanks, I’ll do that. I never could stand the smell of smoke. My mom used to bring it home with her every night she was at the casino with Slater.”
Asher grunted. “As soon as the sun’s down we’ll drive up to the state line for food and supplies. You can pick up some extra clothes too. In the meantime, why don’t you go find something to do. Read one of Ruth’s books, or finish one of Ned’s crosswords.”
“Are you serious?” She folded her arms, frowning as he went back to work on the headboard as if she were already gone. His gruff tone and dismissive attitude chafed the first time she found herself in this house, but being on the receiving end of it now—especially after their kiss—stung her more deeply than she was prepared for. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
He glared up at her. “I can’t do that until I’m sure Slater is dealt with. And more than likely, Cain as well.”
Her mouth flattened tightly, but only in an effort to keep the pain out of her voice. “If I wasn’t worried that I might put Michael or the kids who count on us at risk by going home right now, I’d already be gone.”
She pivoted to walk out, but two paces away from him she stopped. She couldn’t take the emotional confusion, nor the foolishness she felt at having allowed herself to feel something for this man—this cold Breed male—who clearly couldn’t wait to be rid of her from his life.
She swung back around, furious with herself as much as him.
“Why did you kiss me in the truck last night, Asher?”
His face hardened. “Does it matter? It was a mistake. One I won’t let happen again.”
His words made the air in her lungs evaporate, made her stomach feel like a rock inside her. He resumed his sanding as if he had no more to say. As if it were that easy for him to dismiss her, not only from the room but from his thoughts.
“A mistake,” she said, nodding, knowing she should feel the same way about it, but couldn’t. “Did you do it because I was crying? Because you felt sorry for me?” She sucked in a shallow breath, staring at his lowered head and the bulky muscles of his shoulders as he scraped the sanding block over the already smoothed edge of the headboard. “Did you do it out of fucking pity, Asher?”
His hand stilled abruptly. On a low growl, he dropped the sanding block and shoved the headboard away from him, vaulting to his feet. Naomi stepped back, instantly questioning her own sanity for provoking him. It was hard for her to remember sometimes what he was, what this dangerous Breed male could do to her.
At the moment, though, he was simply Asher, the man who was turning her life upside down with a desire she didn’t want to feel. A longing that centered wholly on him, this dangerous, solitary man she wanted against everything sane and reasonable she knew.
She stood her ground as he prowled toward her, albeit with a slight tremble in her limbs.
His stare incinerated her, his eyes ablaze and glowing with hot amber light. The glyphs on his broad chest and powerful arms swirled and seethed with a riot of dark colors—indigo, wine, and gold. His jaw was rigid, but as he pulled a breath through his tight lips, she glimpsed the pointed tips of his fangs.
“Yes, Naomi,” he said, his deep voice as rough as gravel. “When I kissed you, it was because you were crying.”
She inhaled sharply, hating that it sounded so much like a catch in her throat. When she glanced away from his searing stare, he reached out. His large hand curved around the back of her neck, leaving her no choice but to look at him.
“I kissed you because your tears put an ache in me, too,” he murmured. He shook his head, piercing her with those otherworldly eyes that seemed to hold even more torment than what she felt churning inside her. “And because as much as I knew it would be a mistake to taste your lips, not even that was enough to make me want you any less.”
Before she could say a word, he lowered his head to hers and took her mouth again. Not the tender brush of his lips against hers like in the truck the other night, but deep and hungered and raw. His tongue invaded, scorching her from the inside with every fevered lick and thrust. He kissed her like he wanted to eat her alive.
Like he’d been starving to taste her again and now nothing would keep him from claiming all of her.
The desire that had been smoldering between them since she woke up for the first time in his bed, alive only because of him, now exploded into a heat neither of them seemed able to contain. Where their first kiss had been tentative and uncertain, this one left no doubt about what they both wanted—needed—from each other.
Asher put his hand under the long hem of the T-shirt she wore. He moaned against her mouth, his fingers stroking over the thin fabric of her panties.
“Seeing you in this last night was torture. Now I can’t ever wear it again without picturing you in it like this.” He cupped her sex, kneading the growing ache that bloomed there. “And then knowing you were in my shower, naked and wet . . . fuck.”
His caress grew more intense, his big hand spreading her legs wider, granting him better access to the drenched juncture between her thighs. She arched into his touch, clutching his shoulders as her head spun with pleasure. His fingers were hot as he swept aside her panties, then delved into her slick cleft. Sensation shot through her with each caress, each rhythmic plunge of his fingers into her quivering body.
“This is what I wanted to do,” he uttered between heated kisses, trailing his mouth down onto her throat as he brought her to the brink of madness with his hand. “It took all I had not to walk down that short hallway and join you in there.”
Naomi moaned, moving helplessly against his palm and fingers. “Asher.”
“That’s right,” he growled. “Now, maybe you understand why I kissed you. And last night as you showered in the next room, what I wanted more than anything was to feel you slippery and wet under my fingers, and then I wanted to fuck you, Naomi. I wanted to push you against the tiles and drive into you until I no longer felt this damnable need to be inside you.”
“Oh, God.” She was panting from his wicked touch, on the verge of climaxing right where she stood. “I wouldn’t have stopped you, Asher. I had all those same thoughts too. I wanted all those same things. It’s what I pictured as I touched myself in there. Imagining it was you touching me, stroking me the way you are now.”
He purred low in his throat and stared at her with fiery need. “Did you stand under the warm spray and come thinking about me, sweet little Narumi?”
The sound of her name—her real name—should have felt wrong, jarring even.
No one called her that now. She didn’t permit it. But hearing her given name on Asher’s lips, especially when he was looking at her as though she belonged to him and only him, untethered something deep inside her.
She felt freed.
She felt seen.
And she felt safe, truly safe, perhaps for the first time in her life.
“Yes,” she sighed against his lips when he came back for another kiss. “I did come thinking about you. Then I spent the rest of the night alone in your bed, wondering if you’d come in and join me. Wishing you would.”
He let out a rough curse, the sound punctuated by the rip of her panties being torn away. Asher pulled the T-shirt over her head, then ran his hands along every inch of her nakedness. His muscles bunched and flexed, his glyphs pulsing and alive with color and movement—like living art dancing on his golden skin.
She couldn’t bear the impatience to feel all of him too.
Skimming her hands down the sides of his torso, she shivered at the pure strength of him. There was no doubt he was more than mortal, no question that he was the most lethal, powerful man she’d ever been close to. But he was also flesh and bone, all of it pulsing and formidable and hot beneath her questing fingers.
He moaned low in his throat when she reached into the loose waistband of his jeans and took hold of his cock. Her breath stopped for a moment as she realized his size. But any hesitation she knew was burned away in the next instant as he thrust in her grasp, hissing when she gripped him tighter and began to stroke his length.
“I want to see you,” she whispered. “I need to feel all of you.”
When she fumbled a bit, he took over, unfastening the button and zipper and shoving the denim down. Naomi stared, marveling at the beautiful glyphs that tracked around his lean hips and onto his groin, disappearing into the dark thatch at the root of his cock.
She took him in her hands again, admiring him now with her eyes and her touch. His response was a deep, unfurling growl.
“Am I the first Breed you’ve been with?”
“The only one.” She didn’t miss the way his eyes glowed brighter at that admission.
“What about human men?”
She shrugged. “A couple, I guess. But it’s been so long, it might as well be forever.” She held his fiery gaze, still stroking him and trying not to let her knees buckle beneath her as he explored her body too. She was so wet for him, so hungry to feel him inside her she could hardly stand the wanting. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you, Asher.”
His mouth curved in a sinful smile. “Good.”
He sank down in front of her on his knees, one hand gripping her hip to brace her while he spread her open to him with the other and nestled his face against her sex. His mouth engulfed her, his tongue pressing wet and hot between her folds, then circling her clit with merciless strokes that had her seeing stars behind her closed eyelids.
He made wildly erotic, animal noises as he licked her tender flesh and fucked her with his tongue. He was an unstoppable force, a storm she threw herself into with total abandon.
“Oh, God,” she gasped, shaking as he drove her toward the crest of an intense release. She came against his mouth, shuddering and panting, her veins feeling as white-hot and electric as streaks of lightning. “Asher!”
She was still spinning in that oblivion and wracked with the power of her climax as he tore away from her on a low snarl and lifted her off her feet.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered her, his voice an otherworldly rasp.
With her ankles hooked behind his back, he held her aloft, his strong hands positioned beneath her thighs as he guided her slowly, inch by impossible inch, onto the length of his shaft.
The fullness went beyond pleasure and into pain, a sweet, delicious ache as her small channel stretched to accommodate the full measure of him. It felt so good she nearly came just from the overwhelming sensation of completion.
Then he started to move.
Holding all of her weight in his hands as if she were a feather, he glided her up and down, thrusting impossibly deeper with each controlled stroke.
She rocked against him, needing more. Needing all he had to give her.
He groaned as she coaxed him into a harder tempo. “You’re so small, Naomi. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m tougher than I look, vampire.”
He grinned, a devilish flash of enormous fangs. “So you are.”
“So, don’t stop, Asher.” She kissed him hard, giving his lip a meaningful nip. “And don’t be gentle.”
“Ah, fuck.” His gaze was an inferno now, his amber irises devouring the narrow slits of his pupils. On a coarse snarl, he tightened his grasp on her and drove in hard—once, twice, again and again.
Naomi moaned, a tremor building swiftly into a release she could neither slow down nor contain. Her pleasure exploded out of her on a scream.
And still Asher kept going, ungentle and wild, giving her just what she demanded of him.
He came with a roar that should have torn the roof off the house, his release a scalding, endless jet that only made his strokes slicker and more fevered. The friction was too much, her body too sensitive.
Another orgasm rushed up on her, leaving her shuddering and boneless in its wake.
“Oh, God.” She panted against his shoulder as she struggled to catch her breath. “That was . . . incredible.”
His answering chuckle was dark with promise. “Yes, it was. But don’t think I’m finished with you yet. We’ve got hours of daylight ahead, and now that I know what you like, I intend to make the most of them.”
CHAPTER 14
Asher hadn’t spent so much time in bed in all of the fifteen years he’d lived at the ranch combined. Although, to be accurate, he and Naomi hadn’t contained themselves strictly to the bed. They’d made use of the bedroom rug, the chair, even the dresser.
And they’d found a lot of creative ways to enjoy other areas of the house as well.
He should have been satisfied, but all he could think about after they returned from their evening shopping trip at the state line was how quickly he might be able to get her naked and underneath him again.
It didn’t help his nearly permanent erection that when he stepped into the house after taking care of the horses and chickens, Naomi was bent over in the kitchen, her pert little ass looking ripe for the taking in her curve-hugging jeans as she rummaged through the cabinets and pulled out a frying pan.
Soft music drifted in from the living room sound system. Not one of Ned’s favorite country albums, but a soulful jazz number the old man used to listen to on the days when Ruth seemed to be on his mind more than usual. As Asher watched Naomi sway and hum to the sensual song, he didn’t imagine he’d be able to hear it again without thinking of her.
She glanced over at him as he let the screen door quietly close. Her slow smile as their eyes connected made his cock twitch behind his zipper.
“I’m making a chicken breast to put on some salad,” she said, placing the pan on the stovetop. “Does that s
ound all right to you?”
“Make whatever you like. The kitchen is yours.”
“Okay.” She walked to the refrigerator and pulled out some of the fresh produce they bought, setting it on the counter next to the sink where he was now washing and drying his hands. “What’s it like not being able to eat actual food?”
He shrugged, leaning against the counter as she rinsed the lettuce and shook off the water. “Your definition of food and mine are different, that’s all.”
“So, you’ve never even tasted fresh fruit or a perfectly seared steak? Or really good chocolate?”
“No. I could taste human food if I wanted, but only a bite or two. Breed digestive systems aren’t equipped for crude nourishment like that.”
Her gaze drifted to his mouth. “Only blood?”
“Yes. And only fresh blood, taken from a living vein.”
She swallowed, and as her delicate throat worked he was suddenly very aware of the fact that it had been a few days since he last fed—too many, especially for a Gen One like him. Later generations could push their bodies upward of a week, but not the purest of the Breed.
Yet as thirsty as he was, the idea of taking a basic Homo sapiens carotid held even less appeal than usual. Not when Naomi was standing in front of him.
“Why haven’t you tried to take my vein, Asher?”
He ground his teeth together at her innocent question. She was off-limits for a lot of reasons, not the least of which being the fact that she was a Breedmate. He reached out and touched the small birthmark below her chin. “Because of this.”
One sip of her blood would nourish him the way human blood never could, but it would also bind him to her like an unbreakable chain. For as long as either of them lived, he would feel her in his own veins, in his senses. And if she drank from him, there would be no other male for her, either. The blood bond was not only sacred between a Breed male and his woman, but eternal.
She deserved someone better. Someone worthy of her.
So, why did he feel such a profound yearning to pierce her tender skin regardless of all that?
