Possessed by a Warrior

by Sharon Ashwood

  “I’m asking because I want to know you. I’m not finding that an easy task.”

  “Yes, I know.” The words were soft. “And you can’t seem to get it through your head that I’m bad for you. If you have a type, I’m probably not it.”

  “French fries are bad for me, but I eat them anyway.”

  “Chloe.” Her name was a growl.

  Her whole being grinned, though she struggled to keep it off her face. “Now you sound like my dad.”

  This time he came toward her, moving in slow, prowling steps. Chloe watched him, not quite sure if she was excited or apprehensive. Either way, a fizz of anticipation settled in her stomach.

  When Sam finally stopped he was so close that his pant legs brushed her knees. He leaned forward, putting one hand on either side of her, gripping the table. Chloe let her eyes drift closed so that she looked up at him from under her lashes.

  “You’re playing with fire,” he said. “When it comes to you, I can’t hold back.”

  The low tones of his voice resonated in her belly. She closed her eyes altogether for a moment, breathing him in. He smelled like whiskey and cool dusk in the lush green grass. He’d spent time outdoors that day.

  “I know you’re not going to stay,” she said, words snagging in her throat. “You belong beside your princess. You have obligations.”

  “It would be worse for you if I did stay.”

  “You don’t have a high opinion of yourself.”

  “I know what I’m talking about.”

  Chloe opened her eyes then. She stared right into his. She’d always known they were gray, but now she could see the individual streaks of dark and silver. A shiver ran up her backbone, something in her primitive brain sensing a danger her rational mind couldn’t quite place. At the same time, desire for him ran hot in her blood. Whatever happened tomorrow, she wanted him tonight.

  Fire and ice swirled inside her belly, goading her to lure him in. “So are you bad for me all the time, or just sometimes?”

  “I’m bad for you right now.” Sam took one hand from the chair and stroked her cheek. “Because I’m going to take what I want. I can’t resist you.”

  “It’s about time.”

  Sam didn’t move at once, but let his fingers trail down the line of her jaw to the sensitive spot just below her ear. A trail of electricity followed his touch, leaving a tingling path. Chloe arched her neck against his cool fingers, wanting to feel more.

  The next moment, his lips began the same journey, weaving tiny, quick kisses in a chain along her flesh. Chloe’s breath hung suspended as he moved, unwilling to disturb the spell. Every press of his mouth sent a charge along her nerves, igniting sensations through her whole body. As he finished, the last kiss lingered, his lips soft and almost cool over the pulse in her throat. Shivering, she finally gulped in air, almost tasting the attraction between them.

  Her hand cupped the back of his head, pulling him down so her mouth could find his. Thick and hot, her pulse felt slow, almost drugged. As she finally tasted him, a sweet ache infused her entire body. And yet all he did was kiss me.

  Either Sam Ralston was a new gold standard of lover, or she’d been alone far, far too long. Only one way to be sure.

  Chloe summoned her sweetest smile. “Are you going to aim for the eight ball, or do we get to find a bedroom first?”

  His gaze raked over her as if weighing the inconvenience of relocation. It looked like sex on the pool table was winning the argument until finally something filtered through the lustful haze. “Bed.”

  Monosyllables would do. She gave his chest a shove so she could straighten up. He caught her around the waist, as if mere inches of airspace was a very bad thing. His thick sweater rubbed softly against her bare arms. She cuddled close, letting his arm wrap around her possessively. “My bedroom is closest.”

  “Go.”

  Holding hands, they stole up the stairs. Chloe dared not look at Sam, afraid she’d start to giggle. This was too much like a flashback to her school days, when she’d unsuccessfully tried to sneak boys up to her room under Uncle Jack’s nose.

  “Are you sure no one saw us?” she asked once Sam closed the door behind them.

  “Yes.”

  “Not even your wolf?”

  Sam’s expression was a curious mix of horror and embarrassment.

  “Forget about him.” Sam slid onto the comforter next to her, pressing his mouth to hers, drinking in her mirth. Chloe melted into him, working her hands under the hem of that soft sweater, feeling the hard muscle underneath. She raked her fingernails lightly over his skin, earning a murmur of pleasure as she kissed him back.

  His hands stole up her rib cage, lingering over every inch until he finally cupped her breasts. His thumbs brushed her aching nipples, making her arch against him, seeking more pressure to satisfy the pain. He pulled her onto his lap and she felt the hard evidence of his own ache. She reached down, but he brushed her hand away.

  “Not yet. There’s no need to rush.”

  She was about to rap out a snappy rejoinder, but he’d found the buttons down the front of her dress, and his mouth was on her breast. Chloe’s head fell back as she gave herself over to the delicious feel of his tongue exploring the lace cups of her bra. The brush of his hair against her sensitized skin brought gooseflesh down her arms. As he closed on her nipple, her thoughts turned to the snowy blankness of a TV that has dropped its signal.

  Somewhere in the following minutes, she lost her clothes. At the same time, she worked on Sam’s, determined to find the beast within. She’d seen his chest before, but the sight bore repeating. He must have done some serious weight lifting, because muscles like that didn’t happen by themselves.

  She finally got the right angle to pull down his zipper. Sam rose from the bed, sliding off his jeans. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Chloe wasn’t sure where to look first. In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, he seemed made of marble, pale and sculpted, the shadows blurring the hard angles of his muscular flesh. As for the individual details—well, maybe there was some truth to the whole monster thing. As he fished in his wallet for a condom, Chloe sank back into the pillows, feeling like Christmas had come early.

  The next moment, Sam was beside her. He held a lock of her hair between his fingers, teasing her skin with the ends. He brushed it over the curve of her breast, seeming fascinated by the roundness of it. Chloe ran her hand down his chest, pausing to circle his nipple in a mirror image of his movements.

  “You are so beautiful.” He let her hair fall free, pulling her close. At the same time, his fingers found the soft core of her, slipping inside to stroke the most sensitive places. Chloe writhed against him, wanting more, aching for completion. He brought her close but pulled away just shy of the brink. She wriggled closer, demanding, plunging against him.

  The third time, Chloe ran a hand up the length of his shaft, and his attention shifted like the gears of a well-tuned race car. He trapped her in the cage of his limbs and entered her in one long, hard stroke.

  Chloe cried out at the sensation. He was large enough that it was almost uncomfortable. He pulled out, and pushed in again, drawing another gasp. She shuddered, close to her peak but hanging on, taking him in and making it last as long as she could.

  He seemed to read her thoughts, making the next stroke so long and delicious that she detonated. He had done too good a job preparing her, and she crumbled beneath his assault. She was his.

  Falling to pieces was just the beginning, for she was adrift in a euphoria that seemed to spin endlessly. Chloe could feel Sam inside her, feel him working and pushing, possessing her as she had never been before. Like a territory to be conquered, no part of her went untouched, no inch untasted.

  As he drove her again to climax, her muscles seemed to move entirely to his will, her body not
hing but an instrument of desire. His own movements were growing faster, more ragged. She grabbed his shoulders, pushing to meet him, her skin a slick of sweat.

  With a ragged cry, Sam gave a final thrust, spending himself inside her as she fell under another wave of mindless pleasure.

  But not so mindless that she missed the fangs sinking into her throat.

  Chapter 23

  Chloe awakened with a start, her whole body gathering itself to spring free of the sheets. Her mind came online a beat later, befuddled by the adrenaline surging through her system. She rolled onto her side, groping for the edge of the big bed and tangling herself in the blankets.

  “Hush!” A hand touched her bare shoulder.

  Chloe froze, staring into the dim atmosphere of the bedroom. Enough sun leaked around the curtain to show it was morning, but not enough to make the room light. Naked. Bed. Her thoughts scampered like panicked mice. Sam. Memory returned with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

  She flipped over, staring into the steel-gray eyes of the man beside her. “You bit me!”

  It was out before she could stop herself. Fear skittered over her skin, and she stayed perfectly still for a long moment, barely daring to breathe.

  Finally, he gave a slight shrug.

  Chloe pushed the hair out of her eyes. “That’s just rude.”

  “I didn’t leave a mark.”

  Chloe’s hand went instinctively to her throat. She was sure he’d drawn blood, but there was no soreness, no heat of a fresh bruise. Impossible.

  “Not even a hickey,” he said calmly.

  “What did you do?”

  He arched a brow. “Sorry, I thought you were enjoying it.”

  She had. Oh, yes. Chloe’s insides turned to syrup at the suggestion. She felt the echoes of her last climax, shadows that could surge back to full force at any moment. Even the memory of his tongue and teeth was enough to send her over if she let herself revel in it.

  A sigh escaped her before she could stifle it. His eyebrow quirked.

  Not fair. Fear started to morph into irritation. You just don’t bite someone without their say-so!

  She tried to rise to her knees and keep the sheet drawn up around her at the same time. Unfortunately, that pulled the covers off Sam. There was suddenly more of Sam visible than she was prepared to deal with right then.

  She twitched the coverlet over him, feeling a flush creep up her skin. “That was something else.”

  “You say that like it was a bad thing.”

  “It wasn’t completely bad.” She tried to keep a straight face. He was teasing her, the slant of his gaze a little bit mischievous, a little bit guilty. This was a different, playful side of him, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it. “But you...” She trailed off helplessly.

  “You’ve got a good imagination.”

  “No. Forget the whole denial dance. That wasn’t a daydream. You had fangs. It wasn’t the first time I saw them.”

  The teasing started to look ragged around the edges. “What are you saying?”

  He’s strong. Fast.

  “I don’t know.” Hates the sun. Looks exactly like a picture that’s a century and a half old.

  Oh, no way.

  She put a hand on his chest. There was no heartbeat under the cool skin. “Are you dead?”

  Annoyance twisted his features. “Excuse me? Did I seem dead last night?”

  She’d spent too much time with Uncle Jack’s mouldy manuscripts and plastic fangs to avoid the obvious conclusion. “You’re a vampire!”

  He sat up so quickly she had no time to scoot back. They were nearly nose to nose. Chloe felt her remaining blood drain from her face.

  “Do I look like a vampire?” he demanded.

  She studied him. She had no clue what to say. “You’ve got the broody looks down.”

  He collapsed back onto the pillows, covering his face with his hands. Chloe was glad for the moment of privacy, and hopped out of bed to grab her bathrobe. She wrapped the thick terry folds around her, hands shaking so hard she could barely knot the belt. Panic sang through her bones, locking muscles. Her jaw ached with it.

  Vampire? Was she nuts? There were no such things as vampires. Not literally, anyway.

  But, come on. She knew what she saw. She’d felt his teeth. Sure, the sex was good and all that, but did it cause hallucinations? Sex didn’t make her see fireworks or flowers opening in slow motion and it sure as Vlad didn’t make her see vampires.

  She marched to the foot of the bed and gave him a furious glare. She felt oddly detached, as if she were floating above her own body.

  “Don’t you guys warn your lovers?” she snapped. “That’s like the ultimate STD.”

  Sam emitted an exasperated groan, somehow still managing to look masterful while wearing nothing but bedclothes. “I thought I’d hypnotized you. You’re not supposed to remember that part.”

  Chloe huffed. “Well, that’s nice, isn’t it? Snack and go.”

  “It was for your own good. I’m just not...the mind control talents are not my strength.”

  “Mind control?” she repeated in freezing tones. “What are you? Straight out of a B movie?”

  He scowled back. “You’re taking this rather calmly. Most people get hysterical.”

  “Most people?” His words riled her temper another notch. “Think about my last week, Ralston. My uncle was murdered. I inherited a wedding dress covered in stolen diamonds. Everyone who owns it winds up dead. I was attacked in my bed. Bad guys. Wolves. A wedding in three days. I don’t mean to bruise your ego, but one night of hot sex with the living dead isn’t as much of a shocker as you might think.”

  And then she burst into tears. Chloe jammed her fingers into the thick tangle of her hair, horrified by the hot ache in her eyes and the wetness trickling down her cheeks. She couldn’t say another word. All the fear and anger since Jack’s death jammed in her throat, choking off any explanations. All she could do was cry.

  She heard the rustle of sheets, and then Sam was in front of her. Tenderly, he wrapped her in his thick, muscular arms and tucked her head under his chin. She fit there perfectly, her body cradled against the strong curve of his chest. Rhythmically, he rubbed her back, almost as if she were a colicky baby.

  “Hush, sweet one.” He kissed the top of her head, then tipped her head up to put gentle kisses on her eyelids. “Hush.”

  His touch was hypnotic, soothing the shivers from her limbs. No words, no excuses, no telling her how to think or feel—he simply held her. It was exactly the right thing. As his lips touched the spot just under her ear, she gasped, every cell in her body suddenly yearning for him. He slipped the robe from her shoulders, sliding his hands down the line of her back.

  Chloe arched into him feeling his body wake, long and thick, against her. He’s a vampire! But in the next moment, all she could remember was that he was Sam.

  “I’m sorry, Chloe. I didn’t mean for that side of me to come out. The more I want somebody, the harder it is to control. And I want you far too much.”

  She made a yearning noise deep in her throat. He grew harder, and his hands slid down to cup her backside. Chloe forgot everything but the taste of his mouth. “I need to know you.”

  “Now you do,” he murmured. “You know everything.”

  Whether she fell back onto the bed or he pushed her was hard to say. He was on top of her, beside her, and then she was on top of him, taking possession of Sam.

  His stomach tensed as she tasted him, letting her tongue linger in a slow circuit of his tip. Now he was the one making the throaty noise.

  Yes, she was getting to know him. Getting to know exactly what he liked. She closed her lips over him, sucking and teasing him with her teeth.

  “Chloe!” he protested
through gritted teeth.

  She bit down carefully, figuring turnabout was fair play. The salty taste of him grew stronger, the muscles in his thighs hard under her hands.

  He shuddered, obviously at the edge of his control. Peeking up through her lashes, she could see his face. And there they were, the tips of sharp, white fangs just visible through his parted lips. Pleasure made them come out.

  Fear and excitement knotted inside her. She released him, dragging herself forward in one long, continuous movement, using as much of her skin as possible against the sensitive, engorged member.

  Sam grabbed her, rolling her under him in a swift, predatory pounce. He was breathing hard, his nose buried against her neck. “You smell of fear and desire.”

  Chloe was beyond words. Instead, she arched her hips against him. And then he was inside her once more, stretching her, filling her, driving her to insanity. She felt the rhythm of her body milking him hungrily, responding with intensity she hadn’t thought possible.

  She could feel his teeth against her again, but this time he didn’t drive them home. “Do it,” she whispered.

  “Too soon.”

  His words were nonsense to her. “Do it. Do it, please.”

  And he did. It wasn’t painful, but an explosion inside her that seemed to come from deep in her belly, a sun of pleasure going supernova. Chloe cried out, tears of release trickling down her face.

  “You’re mine, Chloe.” He stopped her cries with his mouth, and then thrust one last time, reaching his own climax. “All of you. Everything.”

  They lay boneless, exhausted. Chloe rolled into his arms, burying her face in his shoulder. “So. Vampires, huh?”

  Her mind roamed to her uncle and his collection. The fact that he had it, that he’d shown it to her, was no coincidence. Just like the target practice, he’d been preparing her for something.

  She sat up suddenly. “Uncle Jack was like you!” That explained so much—his strange hours, the secrets, the mysteries and the tasteless collection of rubber bats. “He never said anything.”