Unleash (Vampire Erotic Theatre Romance Series Book 6)

by Felicity Heaton

  Snow nodded solemnly. “They left me no choice. They refused to heed my warning and told me Antoine would take my place. He was only three hundred. Little more than a youth. I had to kill them, Aurora. You have to see that… I had to kill them.”

  “I know,” Aurora whispered and ventured another step closer to him. She swallowed and raised her hand, and then lowered it again, cursing herself for not having the courage to reach out and lay her hand on his cheek or his knee to show him that she didn’t think ill of him because of what he had done that day. He had done it to protect Antoine. He had given those vampires a choice, and they had chosen death.

  Snow glanced up into her eyes and lingered, the red around the edges of his irises fading and the darkness lifting. Sorrow replaced it, but mixed in with that sombre emotion were others. Warmer ones that gained ground the longer he looked up at her, obliterating the pain until it was gone and only they remained, filling his beautiful eyes with a look that verged on tender.

  Aurora breathed slowly, fighting to steady herself, battling to resist the urges that look in Snow’s eyes awakened in her. It would be all too easy to surrender to the pressing need to touch him and feel the coolness of his skin beneath her fingertips. From there it would be but a step to lean down and bring her lips to his.

  And then she would be lost forever.

  Snow would claim all of her with that one simple kiss. She would lose her objectivity, and most likely her heart, and it would become impossible to bring herself to judge him with clear eyes.

  It took all of her strength, but Aurora managed to take a step backwards, placing a small distance between them. That distance felt like an ocean and she longed to cross it to him, to fall into his arms and discover the reality of her darkest desires.

  Aurora lowered her eyes to the black bedclothes, focusing on them to steady herself.

  “You should sleep,” she said and her voice had never sounded so hollow to her ears. It wasn’t what she wanted to say to him, but it was what she had to say. She had to get things back on track. She had to resist her forbidden urges.

  Snow slipped off the bed and walked past her, so close that she could sense his power as a hot shiver down her spine and she ached for him to brush against her.

  She looked over her shoulder, gaze following him. He reached his wardrobe and began to strip off. Slowly.

  Aurora had the distinct impression that he was doing it on purpose, drawing out his undressing because he liked the feel of her gaze on him, watching as he slowly unbuttoned his black shirt and revealed inch after inch of delicious pale skin stretched tight over powerful defined muscles.

  The ache started again, hot and fierce, making her belly flutter.

  He tossed his shirt onto the laundry basket in the corner and then tackled his jeans. Aurora told herself to look away but failed to follow the order when he pushed his jeans down, revealing his black underwear and long toned legs.

  A blush heated her cheeks.

  Snow glanced over at her and she swore a wicked smile tilted his lips before he turned his face away. He was enjoying tempting her. Perhaps her master was right and he was evil after all, but it was a strange sort of evil, a sinful and sexy sort.

  He finally dropped his jeans on top of his shirt in the basket and crossed the room, slowly stalking towards her, his gait that of a predator hunting prey.

  She had no chance to stifle the blush that covered the full length of her body this time, burning through her blood. She wet her lips, trembling all over, stomach fluttering as she stared into his eyes, caught by them and unable to escape.

  It took all of her willpower, but she tore her gaze away, only for it to fall on the top of the tattoo that poked out above the waistband of his black boxer shorts. She wanted to know what the rest of it looked like.

  “Your tattoo intrigues me,” she whispered, unable to find the courage to voice those words any louder.

  Snow cocked an eyebrow, grabbed her shoulders so quickly that she gasped and jolted, and made her sit on the end of the bed. Her backside hit the mattress hard enough to make the springs creak. She didn’t notice. Her focus was wholly on Snow as he stood before her, his lean hips eyelevel to her, the pronounced muscles of his abdomen on tempting display. So close that her breath was probably skating over them.

  Aurora told herself to look up. Her willpower failed her this time. She stared at the sexy dip of his navel and all that sensual hard-packed muscle. Her heart thundered, pumping wildfire through her veins. What would he do if she leaned forwards and swept her tongue around his navel?

  She wanted to find out.

  Snow derailed her thought by catching the waistband of his black boxer shorts above his right hip and shoving the garment down enough that she could see the full design of his tattoo. It was hard to focus on it when the action had also revealed a thatch of crisp dark silver curls. Was it wrong of her to want to ask him to shed the underwear completely?

  She had seen him in many ways over his lifetime but never completely naked. She had always closed the connection when there was a danger of seeing him fully nude, not wanting to witness the majesty of his body, a body she could never know intimately, even when she had secretly desired it.

  Aurora’s eyes widened as that dawned on her. How long had she desired Snow? She had never liked to watch him interacting with females. It had always left a dark feeling in her heart that she had thought was hatred towards him because he kept sinning. She had always blushed whenever he had stripped off or she had turned her gaze upon him just as he was stepping into the shower or bath, or sometimes skinny-dipping in a lake.

  She had thought the flush of heat had been because she had felt it was wrong to see him in such a manner, not because she had desired to watch him but had been too afraid.

  Except for the skinny-dipping times.

  She had watched then, fascinated and wondering how cold the water was, or whether fish bothered him, and whether he thought about that night when she had saved his life.

  “Aurora,” Snow husked and brought her back to him.

  Her gaze focused on the tattoo.

  “I drew the design many years ago but constantly refined it, until I decided I wanted… needed… to make it part of myself.”

  She studied the design. It was a stylised purple cross with a tribal style black cross curling around it, forming the stem of a rose bloom that sat in the centre. Two drops of blood dripped from the bloom, and she knew what they symbolised. His parents and what he had done to them.

  Aurora reached out without thinking and lightly stroked the twin stylised white-blue wings that flared outwards from the top of the cross to complete the design.

  Snow inhaled sharply and his focus on her intensified.

  Aurora slowly lifted her head, her eyes trailing over every taut muscle on his powerful torso. Delicious. She met his gaze. His pale irises were dark with desire again, locked intently on her. Her fingers trembled against his cool skin.

  “Why did you incorporate wings into the design?” she whispered.

  “It was a last minute decision when the artist was here. I wasn’t sure at the time why I added them. Now, I know.” His voice was gruff and thick again, deep and dark with hunger that thrilled her. “Some part of me… buried deep… must have remembered you all this time and perhaps it wanted to remind me.”

  She gasped when his hand gently caught hers and he brought it away from his hip. He lingered, holding her hand, and she didn’t want him to let her go. She wanted him to hold onto her forever, even when she knew it was an impossible dream, and she was only making things harder for herself.

  His large hand was cool against hers and she could sense his strength more clearly, his incredible power, but he was careful with her, applying barely any pressure to her fingers. She could take her hand away if she wanted. He was giving her the option and letting her be the one in control.

  Aurora swallowed, lost in his eyes and aware of the fact that she was sitting on his bed, alon
e in his room with him, and the energy that crackled between them, sparks of fire that burned through her blood and made her body yearn to know his.

  Snow hesitated and then took a laboured step back, as if he had struggled to convince himself to place that small distance between them, just as she had fought to do the same a few minutes ago. His fingers slipped from hers and he cast a nervous look around his room, his strong heart beating as wildly as hers was.

  “I should probably sleep.” His words were hollow and forced, and the look he flicked at her, the darkness that lingered in his eyes, spoke different ones to her. He wanted her but he was being chivalrous, respectful of what she was and aware of what he was. “It is still a few hours until nightfall.”

  He was growing hard. It was impossible to miss when she was eyelevel with his groin. Her gaze fell there, fulfilling a wicked irresistible desire. His penis already pushed at the black material of his shorts, semi-hard and rising before her eyes.

  Not only that, but she had noticed the points of his fangs when he had spoken. He hungered for her in more than just a physical way. He hungered for her blood too, and the force of the need to feel his fangs in her again that swept through her in response shocked her.

  Snow swiftly turned away and her eyes followed him, catching the blush that coloured his cheeks as he rounded the bed to the left side. He yanked the black covers back, lay down and tugged them over himself, up to his chest.

  He paused, the air around him heavy with tension.

  “I can chain myself if it would make you feel safer around me.”

  Aurora’s heart broke for him. He wasn’t a threat to her but he clearly felt he was, or that she believed he was. He expected her to want him chained, unable to sleep comfortably, unable to sleep close to her.

  “I feel safe around you. I trust you not to hurt me, Snow.” She looked over her shoulder at him and he looked pleased by her answer, a spark of warmth lighting his blue eyes that she hadn’t seen since he had been a young man.

  He was happy.

  And she was the cause of it.

  Aurora focused on hiding her wings and his expression turned to one of fascination as they shrank into her back.

  “Sleeping without them is more comfortable, but they don’t like to be gone for long. I will likely wake before you.” It was a reasonable excuse. If he stirred and found her awake, he wouldn’t think anything was wrong.

  Snow closed his eyes and Aurora rose from the bed, switched off the lamps in the room, and then joined him on the bed.

  She lay on top of the black covers beside him, on her side with her arm tucked under her head on the pillow that smelled like him. Her perfect night vision allowed her to see him clearly in the dark and she studied his noble profile, trailing her gaze over the line of his brow, down the straight slope of his nose, to his sensual lips and strong jaw.

  It wasn’t long before sleep claimed him.

  Aurora watched him slumber, indulging herself and losing track of time. Only minutes seemed to pass but it must have been closer to hours because when she focused, the sun was edging lower in the sky. It would set within the hour and she still hadn’t formulated her plan.

  Her gut twisted and turned, and she closed her eyes, unable to look at Snow while guilt rode her.

  She despised herself for lying to him. Unlike those she worked with, her master included, she hated to deceive any creature, even the wicked ones. The fact that she deceived Snow in order to gain his trust made her feel like one of the wicked, but she needed to remain close to him if she were to judge him correctly.

  Aurora sighed, lifted her eyelids and stared at him. Her master’s words rang in her ears, ones he had spoken often over the past twenty centuries.

  The creature was a threat to humankind.

  Aurora didn’t believe that.

  He was only a threat to himself.

  She had never met such a trouble soul in all her long existence. He was so lost and broken, so void of hope. It pained her to see it in his eyes and feel it beating in his heart. He believed himself wretched and tainted, evil, and deserving of death.

  She had seen thousands of mortals who had taken countless lives each, and none of them had shown the deep remorse for their actions that Snow did. None of them believed they deserved to perish or face execution for their sins.

  They justified their cruel and often barbaric actions, blaming society or others, or their duties. They revelled in killing. Taking lives thrilled them and too many of them drew sick satisfaction from bathing their hands in blood.

  Snow despised himself for the things he had done. He never blamed his bloodlust for his actions. He never sought a way of justifying them in order to alleviate his guilt and deflect the scorn of others. He hated that he had destroyed lives or ended them, and took no satisfaction from their deaths. He took only pain that stayed with him forever.

  Here was one who had long ago given up and whose spirit had died but whose body had lived on, an empty husk, a pitiful existence that he longed to leave behind.

  It pained her greatly.

  Aurora tried to focus on her mission. Her thoughts swam, flickering over the things she had seen Snow do, both the good and the bad, and the pain she knew he carried within him as a constant reminder of his terrible deeds.

  She grew aware of Snow beside her, only a black sheet separating her body and his.

  The sun was close to setting.

  Aurora leaned over him and studied each strand of snow-white hair that caressed his brow, his sculpted cheek, and even drifted down to softly stroke his wicked mouth.

  His lips called to her, slightly parted in sleep, his lower one fuller than the top.

  She wanted to kiss him and it was hard to resist that urge.

  Instead, she peered closer and saw his canines. They were blunt but they had been sharp when he had bitten her. A tingling began in her wrist and spread up her arm, heat following in its wake. She licked her lips, told herself not to, and then lightly stroked the seam of his mouth with the tip of her left index finger.

  His lips parted further and his cool breath caressed her finger, causing hers to hitch.

  Vivid colours followed the path of her caress, bright in the darkness, a sign that she was experiencing strong emotions.

  Strong was the understatement of the century.

  They consumed and overwhelmed her.

  How could one so rough, so fallen and lost, feel so soft and warm, so very alluring?

  It fascinated her.

  She wanted him.

  She wanted to feel his lips on hers at last.

  Aurora leaned forwards to press her lips to his and then cursed internally and stopped herself. She couldn’t do it.

  For his sake, she had to resist.

  Snow’s eyes flicked open.

  CHAPTER 11

  Aurora scooted away from him and off the bed. Snow sat up and tried to catch her arm before she could distance herself any further, wanting to finish what she had started even when he knew he shouldn’t.

  She stared at him, her eyes wild with the panic he could feel in her emotions and the frantic beat of her heart, overshadowing the lingering trace of her desire, and then bolted for the door. She was out of it before he could get the covers off him.

  Snow growled, hit the floor running, and gave chase. The lights were on in the black-walled corridor. His gaze sought her, his head whipping to his left. She had already reached the end of the hallway. Rather than heading down the staircase, she went up another one further back in the corridor. The roof. She intended to fly away from him.

  He damned well wouldn’t let her.

  He refused to let her run from her feelings any longer.

  He sprinted after her, bare feet landing heavily with each long stride, and took the stairs two at a time, following them upwards.

  “Aurora,” he called out but she didn’t slow. She kept running into the darkness ahead of him, her small feet making no sound on the steps. Her wings hadn’t mad
e an appearance yet. Was that a good sign?

  Snow couldn’t take comfort from it. She was still running from him after all. She intended to leave him again and he feared he would never see her again if he let her get away.

  She hit the storage level at the very top of the theatre and kept going.

  “Aurora.” Snow tried again, hoping she would listen to him this time. “Do not run from me.”

  Not only because he wanted her to stay.

  If she kept running, he was going to lose his temper and then his head. His bloodlust was liable to make a poorly timed appearance because the thought of her leaving was cleaving his heart into two.

  “I have to go.” She didn’t look back. The scent of panic and fear swamped her feminine smell of lilies and snow, turning it acrid. “It was wrong of me to come to you. I should have stayed away.”

  Because she was an angel? Guilt lanced him again, running his chest through. He had forgotten her and committed so many sins that her wings had turned entirely black. He hated that she had seen him all those times, and had probably seen him with women, witnessed the debauched things he had done and the destruction he had caused, ending countless lives.

  She had seen him at his worst and he wasn’t sure that he had a best to show her to prove there was good in him, something to make him worthy of her notice.

  Aurora broke out onto the flat roof of Vampirerotique and slowed to a halt, breathing hard.

  Snow felt confusion breaking through her other emotions. Her feelings were clearer than ever now that he had become more attuned to her.

  The desire he could sense and smell on her was the reason he bravely edged towards the door and the evening beyond.

  She had been close to kissing him. Her touch had awoken him and he had remained still, feigning sleep in order to see what she would do. Her breath had been hot and moist against his lips, and he had come close to taking the lead and kissing her.

  If he kissed her, would he taint her?

  He stared at her where she stood on the rooftop with her back to him, a breeze tousling her fall of black hair and the layers of her pristine white dress.