by Nova Archer
“Please,” she begged, not caring how desperate she sounded. “I need you inside me.”
Digging his fingers into her hips, he lifted her pelvis up and in one swift thrust he filled her completely and ended her torment. Except as he stared hard at her, his lips parted, and she realized it was not the end but only the beginning of something she couldn’t fully comprehend. She had the distinct sensation that Caine was about to take her someplace she had only dreamed in fervent and erotic dreams.
At first his pace was slow and measured. Drawing in and drawing out. Leisurely savoring each thrust. Her entire body felt like liquid heat. Melting inside out from Caine’s passionate touch. Not before Caine, had any man made her feel this fevered, this ravenous for sex.
And not just for sex, but for him. She’d never been this hungry for anyone before. It consumed her completely as he moved inside her, taking her, possessing her.
Sweat rolled down from his forehead and chest as he picked up his pace and drove into her again and again. The way her body was angled, she felt every single hard inch of him. Every nerve ending in her body flared, every part of her flesh burned.
But she didn’t want to climax like this. She craved his skin touching hers. She needed to hold him, kiss him, and taste him when she came. Nothing would please her more than that.
Lifting her hands, she covered his on her hips, pulling at his fingers. “I need to touch you,” she panted. “I want your body against mine.”
Still sheathed deep inside, Caine entwined his fingers with hers and came down to the bed, covering her form with his. She wrapped her arms around him, welcoming him in, reveling in the warmth and security of his body. If she could die like this, she’d be no less satisfied.
Nuzzling into the side of her neck, Caine nipped at her chin as he buried his hands in her hair. Pulling her head back, he took her mouth feverishly. Tasting and sampling her. Nibbling at lips, darting his tongue in and out.
She felt the scrape of his teeth on her tongue and her lips. She wondered, not for the first time, what it would feel like if he bit her. She expected pain, but wondered if there was euphoric pleasure in it too. How much rapture would he find in the act? A lot, she suspected.
“Bite me,” she panted against his mouth.
His head came up, and he stared into her eyes. “What?”
She tore at the bandage on her neck, exposing the previous bite marks. “I want you to bite me. I want to feel your teeth on me. I want to know what it would feel like to be completely and utterly yours, if only for tonight.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “I can’t. However much pleasure it would give me, it would bond us and turn you. That’s something that can never be undone.”
“I don’t care,” she murmured. “I want to be yours.”
He pressed his lips to her forehead, then to her cheek, then down to her mouth. “You are mine, Eve. This, today, means everything. I will never forget it, or you.” He took her mouth once more and drove into her again and again.
She raked her nails over his back, hanging on as he drove her up and up, continually. She felt like she was floating in a euphoric fog, unable to think, incapable of moving. She could only feel. Every nerve ending fired. Every muscle contracted.
And when he buried himself so deep she thought she would scream, she came in a fury of white blinding light and a symphony of sensory bombardment.
Biting down on her neck, but careful not to break her skin, Caine came only seconds after her.
She’d never experienced such a sensory overload before. It was as if she could feel everything Caine was feeling. She saw her own face in orgasmic delight as if looking down at herself. She could taste her skin, her sweat and lust on her tongue. And her smell, a mélange of spice, plums and vanilla permeated her nose. Flashes of blood and sex and flowers and food raced over and over in her head. And the feeling of love filled her heart to the brim. She’d never experienced so many emotions before, especially at once, in her life.
But she knew this was Caine’s way of showing her his true feelings for her. He didn’t need to speak those words, for her to know that he loved her. It was enough to her just to know it existed, and that it was real. As real as his body was on top of hers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Caine kissed Eve on the back of her shoulder while he stroked his fingers up and down her arm. She was so damn beautiful, with the softest skin he’d ever felt. Her back was exquisite. Smooth and sleek. He’d come to realize that when he had flipped her over onto her stomach and made love to her again. And as he spooned her, nuzzling into her neck, just underneath the satin of her hair, he wanted to make love to her all over again. He hardened into steel just thinking about the delicious, naughty things he wanted to do.
His hand traveled lower down her hip and around to her belly, slipping lower to cup her liquid heat in his hand. A small moan escaped his lips when he felt how hot she was under his exploring fingers. He heard her sharp intake of air.
“Aren’t you hungry?” she panted.
He nibbled on the back of her neck. “Only for you.”
“You promised me food,” she chuckled.
“I’ll feed you, I promise,” he vowed as he slipped one finger and then another into her. “Just give me, mmm, say ten minutes.”
Laughing, she opened her legs and wrapped one over his, giving him complete access to her. Her other hand came up over her head and she buried her fingers in his hair pulling his face closer to hers. Turning, she found his mouth with hers. He could taste her surrender on his tongue. It was like ambrosia.
As promised, ten minutes later—more like twenty—Caine released his possessive hold on Eve and allowed her to roll out of his bed. She stood, then glanced over her shoulder at him. The look was sassy and sexy. A look, he knew, he would never forget.
“Do you have a robe I could wear? You seemed to have ripped my clothes in half.”
He nodded toward the door. “There’s one on the back of the door.”
She padded across the room, took the black silk robe and slipped it on. As she tied the robe, she regarded him, her head slightly titled. He knew that look. It was one that told him she was thinking too much.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Caine put his hand up to stop her. He wasn’t ready to hear those words. Not yet. “Do you like spaghetti? I make an amazing tomato sauce.”
She pursed her lips and nodded. “Sounds delicious.”
Caine stood, walked to his dresser and grabbed a pair of boxer shorts. He slid them on, then padded over to where Eve watched and waited. Cupping her cheeks in his hands, he kissed her thoroughly. When he was done, he rested his head against hers.
“I’m not ready for you to go.”
After a quick smile, she said, “I’m not ready to go.”
“Good.”
He released her and took her hand. They walked together down the hallway to the kitchen.
“Would you like some more wine?” he asked as he picked up the bottle of red. She nodded, and he filled her glass, handing it to her.
She took a sip and smiled, then slid onto the stool at the kitchen island. “Your kitchen is great. Do you cook often?”
He shook his head. “Not as often as I like, and never for anyone. You are my first victim in a long while.”
Her smile waned and she touched the side of her neck where he had clapped down on her flesh in the throes of passion. The skin was starting to turn red.
He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Did I hurt you?”
“It’s fine.”
“You know why I couldn’t bite you, right?”
She nodded, but he could see the embarrassment on her face. She had been ashamed for asking him for such a thing, thinking it would increase her pleasure and his. It would have, but the consequences were far too great.
“Turning someone is a huge deal, Eve. And not for—,”
“A casual fling. I know.”
He brought his hand to
his mouth and pressed his lips there. “You are not a casual fling. Far from it.”
“I understand. I should never have asked.” She withdrew her hand and set it on the counter.
He hated seeing that look on her face. That she had done something wrong, when it was, in fact, the exact opposite. She had done everything right.
“My wife died during the turn.”
“Oh my God, Caine.” She grasped his hand in hers. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-,”
“It’s all right.” He gave her a small smile. “I’ve learned to accept it. But you have to know that is why I won’t, and not because you are not important enough to me to warrant it.” He met her gaze, trying to force her to see how he felt about her. How his heart ached just looking at her beauty. “Do you understand?”
She nodded. “Yes. I understand.”
“Okay. Now how about some food?” He slid his hand out from hers and walked toward the refrigerator.
“Sure. I’m starving.” She turned toward the living room. “Is it okay if I sit out on your balcony? It looks like a gorgeous night.”
“Sure. You get comfortable and I’ll get the sauce cooking.”
With a little smile, she went across the living room to the sliding glass door. She opened it and stepped out onto the deck, closing the door behind her. He watched her the whole time, enjoying the way she looked in his place, wearing his robe. He could get used to it.
He opened the refrigerator, grabbing some onions and tomatoes. Setting them on the chopping board, he slid out a knife and began to slice them up. The entire time he thought about Eve and the way she made him feel. His skin still tingled from their love making. Despite not taking her blood, they had bonded and now it would be virtually impossible to forget her. Her scent, her taste, the look of her incredible body would forever be ingrained in his mind, on his soul.
On the eve of her return to San Antonio, he wasn’t sure he could let her go.
Knife poised in the air, the shrill ring of the phone on the counter, made him slip. The blade sliced across his finger. Sticking his bloodied finger into his mouth, Caine fumbled for the phone.
“Valorian.”
It was Mahina. “Jesus Christ, Caine, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the past two hours.”
“Monty’s on call. I turned my cellphone and pager off.”
“I guessed that.”
“What’s up?”
“Mel Howard escaped lockup.”
A wave of icy shivers surged up Caine's back. A sick sinking feeling made his stomach roil. He could hardly swallow the bile rising in his throat.
His eyes swung to the glass door of his balcony, a sense of dread washing over him. “How?”
“We don’t know, but he’s gone.”
Before she could say anything else, Caine moved across the living room in a few long strides. Sliding open the door, he stepped out onto the deck.
The phone slid from his hand.
Eve was gone.
Wine dripped onto the stained wood deck from the overturned glass on the small glass and metal table. A soft breeze blew across his face, bringing the smell of fear to his nose. Eve’s fear. It was sharp and bitter. And fresh. She’d barely been gone five minutes.
He also detected another odor. Chloroform.
Panic overtook him. He jumped over the balcony railing and ran down to the street. He looked both ways for retreating vehicles. He saw the taillights of a car racing down his street and turning right. Possibly red. Possibly a sports car.
He ran back to the balcony, jumped the railing and picked up the phone. He could hear Mahina’s impatient cries. “Caine? Caine! What the hell is going on?”
“Put out an APB on the suspect’s car. I need the team over here immediately. Eve’s gone. The bastard’s taken her.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Smacking her lips together, Eve tasted a vile bitterness in her mouth. The hard, cold surface she laid on bit through the thin material of the robe she wore. She rolled over onto her back and slowly opened her eyes.
Nausea crested over her as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Everything was black. The tiny pinpoints of light she could determine swam in and out of focus, making her head swim and her stomach roil.
She rolled over onto her side again and clamped her eyes shut. Staying still, she took in slow, measured breaths, trying to will the nausea away. She had no luck.
Had she drunk too much wine? Is that why the world was spinning like a top? Why she felt like her head was floating, detached from the rest of her body?
Confusion muddled her brain. She had no idea where she was. Hadn’t she just been with Caine in his house? Wasn’t he making her dinner?
Spaghetti. That was it.
Spaghetti and a delicious tomato sauce.
“Caine,” she managed to croak. Her throat felt so dry and shriveled. Dehydrated. From the wine?
Her voice echoed back and a sense of dread surged over her, clenching her stomach even tighter.
She was definitely not in Caine’s house.
Panic rushed through her and she tried to sit up. But she found her body wasn’t obeying her. The best she could do was lift her head and peer around.
The dark still encompassed her, but she could make out a few details. The wall closest to her, made of cement or possibly stone, was gray with some darker patches scattered over it. Black paint maybe. She could also see a thin layer of light glowing on the floor. Coming from under a door?
The smell of decay and mold wafted to her nostrils. It was an odor she’d experienced many times before. One of death and despair. The morgue. Was that where she was, in the morgue? Lying dead on a metal slab,, and this was her transcended state of existence?
Shaking her head, she tried to sit up again. This time she managed to lift her arms, before she collapsed back down. Moving her hands, she felt the surface beneath her. It was definitely cement and not steel. She couldn’t be dead. She wouldn’t be able to feel this much pain, would she?
“Caine,” she called again, desperation cracking her voice.
A sharp creaking sound broke the dead silence around her. Shifting her body, she looked up and saw the light on the floor grow into a yellow rectangle. A shadowy outline filled the shape.
“He can’t help you now, sweet thing.”
She knew that voice. But from where? It tickled the back of her mind like a pinprick.
The shape floated closer to her along the floor like a black fog. Instinctively she shuffled backwards in retreat, revulsion pooling bile in her mouth.
“It’s just you and me for now, sugar.”
A cold hand touched her forehead. She lifted her arms and tried to swat the contact away. It felt like Death himself had placed his hand upon her.
The familiar voice chuckled. “Hmm, so spirited. He’s going to love that about you.”
A finger traced her cheek, then down to her throat. She turned her head away, but his touch remained, eager and bitter. Then he circled her neck with his finger, pressing harder with each stroke.
“Maybe we can finish where we left off.”
Blinking back tears, Eve struggled to keep from vomiting. She remembered now who the voice belonged to—Mel Howard. The murderous vampire that had attacked her outside his home.
“So pretty,” he cooed as his hand wrapped around her throat. He squeezed tight cutting off her air.
Clawing at his hand, Eve tried to fend him off. But he was much too strong, and she realized now that she had been drugged with more than just chloroform. She could still feel the paralyzing effects of it wearing off. And judging by the horrid taste in her mouth she had breathed in a lot of chloroform.
She’d been kidnapped from Caine’s deck. But how? Didn’t she see Mel Howard in the police station in handcuffs? They had caught him. He was guilty of murdering that poor young girl and his accomplice in cold blood. Did they let him go?
Then she felt a sharp pinch just below her right ear. Within
seconds, it felt like she was being sucked through a vacuum hose. He released his grip around her neck, but she still had trouble getting air.
She clawed at her throat, but soon her hands felt heavy, leaden and they fell away to the side of her head. Her arms stiffened like super glue drying. Instantly freezing in place. She tried to move her legs, but couldn’t. The only thing she was capable of doing was shifting her eyes.
She was paralyzed.
Mel leaned down. She could feel his nose pressed against her cheek and his hot, rancid breath in her ear. “I’m so pleased that I get play time with you, sweet thing.” He rolled his tongue over her lobe. “It’s my reward for serving him so well.”
Eve screamed. But nothing came out. She was incapable of opening her mouth. The sound just echoed around in her skull, bouncing around like a rubber ball, until she thought she’d go insane. Maybe she would. Then she could retreat into herself, away from what Mel was going to do to her.
She tried to clamp her teeth together when his hand trailed lower. But something else drew her attention. Shifting her eyes up, she swore she saw another shadow fill the yellow rectangle of light on the floor.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“Where the hell is my trace evidence?” Caine paced the lab staff room, his hands clenched into tight fists. His team was watching him from various positions around the room. They had processed the scene, his home, quickly and respectfully, but now it was a matter of waiting for that evidence to be processed.
They had lifted Mel’s prints from the deck railing, so they knew for sure he was the one that took Eve, and they discovered trace amounts of dirt on the deck. But other than that they had nothing to go on. So far, no reports had come back on the APB for his red sports car.
“It’s coming, Chief. You know it takes time to do it right,” Lyra said from her seat at the table.
“Why do you think he took her?” Mahina asked from her perch on the edge of the counter. “It would’ve been smarter for him to disappear. He could’ve crossed the city lines and gotten lost in San Antonio. We would’ve had a hard time tracking him there.”
