He gave her a kiss on the cheek. With the words came the tingle of electricity up the back of her neck. It rolled up her scalp and toward her forehead in the strangest way. Her body relaxed even though she wasn’t exactly sure she was okay with that, and she nodded without thinking.
Jonas led her over to the stool beside LeAnne. “I have work to do.” Then he just walked away.
Tori turned toward them, a fake smile pulled up the corners of her mouth. “Hey.”
Dorian nodded in return. He had been handsome before, but with the influence of alcohol, he was almost irresistible. LeAnne smiled at him and fought the urge to start unbuttoning his shirt to see if he looked as solid as he felt beneath that shirt.
“I can take it off if you’d prefer.”
She looked up to see a wicked smile on his face. Her cheeks flushed with heat, but she tried to hide her embarrassment.
“I said get the hell off me!” Tori’s voice pulled both their attentions toward her.
A guy in his early twenties who sat on the other side of her pulled his arm off her shoulders slowly. He smirked. “Fucking bitch.”
“Oh shit,” LeAnne muttered just as Tori drew her fist back.
Jonas was suddenly there again, grabbing Tori’s arms. He glared at the guy. “Get out of my club.”
The stranger looked a bit confused, but nodded and walked away.
Jonas pulled Tori onto her feet. “I’m taking her home. Stay here until I can get back and drive you home, LeAnne.”
“I’m fine,” Tori said, trying to pull away, but failing miserably.
Jonas gave her a look that stopped Tori mid-movement. “LeAnne?”
“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
Without another word, he nodded and headed toward the side door with his arm around Tori.
Dorian’s hand began stroked LeAnne’s hair behind her ear. “She’s a handful. Too much trouble, if you ask me.”
“She’s not always like this. Something’s going on with her.”
“Oh. If that was too harsh, I apologize.”
“No.” LeAnne laughed. “That was fair. She would have done her best to tear that guy apart. Then I would have had to help.” Not that she would have known what to do in a real fight. It was the thought that counted, right?
He chuckled. “Spitfire.” Dorian held her close to him and leaned forward enough to kiss her cheek just in front of her ear. “Would you like to go somewhere else?”
“Please.” She slid off his lap and waited for him to stand.
Dorian hooked his arm around her and led her out into the parking lot.
He led her to the passenger side of his car, opened the door and waited for her to get so he could close it, too.
LeAnne smiled at him in appreciation of the gentle gesture. She got in and watched him walk around the car. Admiring his swagger, she decided without any real thought that tonight would be the night. He was coming home with her.
He climbed into the driver’s seat and smiled at her. “I have something for you.” Dorian moved a little as he pulled something out of his pocket. “Give me your wrist.”
LeAnne did and felt him put something on her arm. When he released her, she could see a delicate silver-chained bracelet. A rose of crimson jewels dangled from it. It was stunning and made heart so full it could burst.
“No matter what happens between us, I want you to always know you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, inside and out. Delicate as this rose, but tough as the rubies. I don’t want you to ever doubt th—”
Without thinking, she grabbed his face and kissed him on the mouth with less finesse than she would have hoped, thanks to the alcohol.
Dorian snaked a hand up and held the back of her head. He deepened the kiss until she felt like a pile of putty in his hands. The chaos of her life, her pretenses, and even Jonas’s warning faded away. The only thing in the world that mattered was them.
Too soon, he pulled away. “I mean every word. LeAnne. Promise me you will always remember that.”
“I promise.” LeAnne gave him another quick kiss. “Drive me home?”
“Not yet. You told Jonas you’d stay.”
“I’ll handle him.” She leaned forward and placed a slow, seductive kiss on his lips.
Dorian pushed her back just a little. “We shouldn’t do that to him.”
She groaned. The Boy Scout routine was beginning to piss her off. LeAnne slid a hand up his shirt and rubbed his firm chest. “But I need you. Now.”
There was a low rumble in his chest. He sighed and shook his head. “He’s going to have my ass for this. You know that, right?”
“I’ll handle him.” She kissed him again.
When she pulled away, Dorian reached for the keys. “Text someone to let Jonas know.”
She texted Tori, who balked but promised to tell Jonas. As soon as they were driving out of the lot, Dorian took her hand and laced his fingers in hers. His skin was cool, and his fingers fit perfectly between hers. Chaste as the handholding was, she felt tension in her whole body focus on her hand. Almost immediately, Dorian’s thumb began to stroke hers. With each pass, the fire of her attraction to him stoked higher. They might not even make it to her apartment if he kept that up.
Chapter Seven
Dorian punched the little metal phone pad on the intercom, keying in the code as LeAnne called it out. The light flashed green and the black iron gate began to slide left. He drove through the apartment complex, up the hill, and past more tall buildings until he reached building nine.
“Park there. In front of the third breezeway,” LeAnne said, pointing toward the end of the tall beige building.
Finally, he parked in the space in front of the stairs leading up to her apartment and killed the car’s ignition. In the quiet darkness, he looked at her. She returned his stare, but quickly smiled and looked down. The human really was stunning. The fact that she had no clue how beautiful she was only made the allure stronger.
She glanced back up at him. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
It was a tremendous lie. Things were horrible. Worst-case scenario. Category five kind of wrong. First, he had been caught by his mark. Michael and his garante knew Dorian’s true purpose for being in town. The only positive note was Michael was going to help him get his life back—if he kept his word. Most padrones didn’t, but Michael was different. He still couldn’t believe he let him live. Dorian wouldn’t have done the same in Michael’s shoes.
“I don’t believe you,” she said in a near whisper.
“I’m okay.” He smiled at her then. Given the break he’d just gotten and how he might not live through the week, Dorian chose to make the most of tonight. No more denying himself what he really wanted if he was probably going to die anyway. “Stay there.” He hopped out, went around the car, and opened her door. There, he held a hand out to her. “Mademoiselle.”
LeAnne laughed, took his hand, and stood. “I think I would be a madame, wouldn’t I?”
He nodded and shut the door, still holding her hand. “I was afraid you’d think I was calling you a prostitute.”
“Ha, ha,” she said without a drop of laughter.
.“May I walk you up?”
LeAnne turned and wordlessly led him up a flight of metal stairs that echoed under their feet. They stopped in front of the only door on the left side of the landing. It was brown painted metal, decorated with a wreath of silver with black ribbon, tiny champagne glasses, and the words Happy New Year in silver glittered wood. The wreath framed the brass numbers 212 that were nailed to her door.
LeAnne pulled keys from her pocket and unlocked the door. “Thank you for bringing me home, Dorian.”
“It was my pleasure.”
She giggled, and it made him arch a brow. As soon as the door opened, she turned, grabbed his coat lapels,
and pulled him toward her.
That masculine hunger inside him roared to life. Dorian ran his fingers into her hair, behind her neck, and closed the distance between them with a greedy kiss. Their tongues stroked each other and lips caressed. LeAnne came up for air, forcing him to remember she was human. He had to be more careful.
He breathed too, hoping to keep from alarming her human instincts, then pushed forward, pressing into her until he was rock hard. LeAnne was panting, gasping for air when he buried his face in the bend of her neck. His mouth locked on her skin and pulled softly until he could taste salt.
Knowing what was coming, he pulled away to avoid nicking her when his canines descended. She groaned and pulled him into the apartment foyer with erratic steps.
Dorian booted the door shut with a thud that echoed through her apartment, then scooped her up into his arms. Her mouth laid a trail of kisses up his chin, which had him almost moaning when he said, “Where?”
“First door on the left,” she mumbled against his skin.
As he walked them into the bedroom, her mouth started down his neck. He navigated them into a box of a room and over to a tall, king-sized bed covered in bedding the color of chocolate. Beside it, two tall windows with open blinds allowed the moonlight to spill onto the bed.
Dorian sat her on the edge, then hurriedly tossed his jacket and shirt and shed his shoes. He glanced up to see her stripping off her shirt, then looked down again long enough to slip off the last of his clothes.
When he turned back to her, she was nude, lying back against the pillows watching him. She was a goddess. Her body was perfect and made his erection throb. He wanted to climb up and take her quickly, but he had lived long enough to know how fast that would be over. This he would savor, especially if it would be the only night he would get with her.
Besides, LeAnne had not been with many lovers. A woman as beautiful as her would have much more confidence if she had. She would know the power she wielded so carelessly. If he was going to leave her in the end, the least he could do was show her how desirable she truly was in exchange for this moment—and her blood.
Starting at her toes, Dorian kissed his way up her shin, over the knee, then up her thigh. When he reached her hip, LeAnne’s hands darted to her abdomen.
“Don’t,” he said, then kissed her hand and moved it away.
When he kissed her hip again, LeAnne pushed her hand back over her abdomen.
He looked up at her. “What’s the matter?”
She sighed. “The scars.”
“What scars?” He grabbed her wrist and tugged gently. On the second tug, she let him pull her hand away.
What Dorian saw stopped him. There was a narrow swath of scar tissue just above her pubic bone about three or four inches wide. That was all he could see. He would have never caught it if she hadn’t pointed it out. How could she be so insecure that the little stripe was such an issue at a time like this?
Mindboggling. That was the one word kept running through his mind.
“This is nothing, love. It takes nothing away from your beauty.” He placed a kiss on the scar. Then he kissed his way from one side of the scar to the other, breathing in the scent of her skin that had grown moist beneath him. He did this, running his hands over her warm flesh until she relaxed and he was ready to explode.
* * * *
LeAnne moaned, drunk with pleasure. Dorian’s body sliding up hers, his lips kissing their way to her mouth, felt amazing. Each nerve from her toes to the top of her hair was tense and aching for attention. Everywhere his skin touched hers lit a sweet fire that made deeper places throb for him. It was like nothing she had ever felt before.
Finally, he took her lips and kissed them with a skill and patience that was astounding. The slow, amorous act made her realize in an instant how she had lived her marriage in a drought. She had been a woman dying of thirst, and now she was drunk in the warmth of a man that could possibly be the one to make her believe in true love.
Her mind was jerked back into her body as Dorian slipped his rigid hips down between her legs. A small adjustment on his part, and his unyielding flesh slid inside her. She gasped and arched her back automatically. He grunted and pushed slowly forward. He filled her so completely that she wondered if God had made him especially for her. The sensation was mind-blowing, and she could hear herself moaning.
When Dorian pulled gently out, she gasped at the new feeling.
He moved in and out, overcoming her mind with pure pleasure. Without any help from her brain, her body moved with his and found a gentle rhythm.
His mouth was on her, caressing and exploring her chin, then her jaw, and finally her neck. He dawdled there, sucking at her skin and groaning. LeAnne moaned and felt her body tightening around his, building steam for an eruption.
Dorian’s teeth caught her skin. His body hit a hard, erratic rhythm that made her cry out.
The upsurge came then, throwing her into an orgasm beyond any she had imagined. For the first time ever, LeAnne lost all control. She didn’t think. Her hands grabbed at the sheets, legs locked around his hips. Her body rocked against him in euphoric spasms that thrust him deeper.
Dorian made growling-groaning sound that echoed around the room. He struck her neck with the force of a punch.
Then came the sharp pain and the snap of her skin giving way.
She started to scream, she heard it, but then her mind went white. She entered a realm of bliss that she had only imagined was what heroin addicts felt when they shot up. She let go and drifted away on a wave of rapture, hoping she would never come back.
Chapter Eight
LeAnne gasped and sat straight up in bed.
“Are you all right?” Dorian sat up beside her.
She looked down, noticed she was nude, and pulled a sheet up over her chest. Then she glanced over at him, bare to the moonlight as well. That was because they’d had sex. Marvelous sex that made her smile.
As she recalled the last moments, her hand landed on her throat. The touch sent pain up into her face and down into her shoulder. Either she had the worst crick ever or—
He bit her. Then he drank her—
LeAnne screamed, threw her feet onto the floor, and grabbed a pillow to cover herself. She headed straight for the bathroom door at the foot of the bed.
Dorian scooted to her side of the bed. “What the hell is wrong?”
“Stay there,” she yelled and kept moving. She had to have clothes. LeAnne refused to be one of those naked redneck women running to the neighbor’s door to call the police.
He threw slid off the bed and stood in all his naked, chiseled glory.
LeAnne jerked her eyes toward the bathroom door, away from where the Lord had blessed Dorian so very much. She darted inside the dark little room and slammed the door behind her. She turned the little chrome lock on the knob with the flick of her wrist and backed up until her butt hit the counter. In the silence of the room, she could hear her own heart pounding and breathing. She was scared, no doubt about it.
“Come back out, love.” he said loud enough for her to hear.
After a steadying breath, she flipped on the light switch. “Give me a minute.” LeAnne turned around, facing the white sink and the plain rectangle mirror that hung over it. She was pale and there was a bruise the size of her fist on her neck. She yelped, then threw a hand over her mouth to stop herself.
“LeAnne.” The doorknob rattled. “Open the door. You’re worrying me.” His voice held more urgency now.
“I’m fine!” She took a deep breath. “It’s okay. Just give me a minute.”
She leaned closer to the mirror to see her neck. It was an inkblot-looking spot in shades of purple, green, and yellow. There were remnants of cuts that looked at least a week old. If he had just bitten her, that wasn’t physically possible, yet here it was.
Sh
e swallowed, which brought a new, dull ache that made her cringe.
“LeAnne.” The doorknob jiggled. “Open up. I don’t want to break this door.”
“You’d better not break my freakin’ door! Just give me a minute.”
“Giving you one minute exactly.”
LeAnne huffed at the threat and turned her attention back to the mirror. She stood there, touching her wound for a few moments. He had definitely bitten her. She could feel the places where his teeth had been, and she remembered what it felt like when he’d done it. It was a fact: Dorian had bitten her during sex. He was psycho.
She shook her head. No. It simply was not possible her body had healed that fast. His bite wasn’t magic, no matter how psycho he was.
“All right, I’m coming in,” Dorian said.
“No!”
She laughed at herself for even thinking such a stupid, childish, impossible thing, but that was the only answer that fit. He bit her, drank her blood, and—
“Minute’s up.”
“Do not come in here!”
No sooner than the words were out of her mouth, the door jerked open in a crackling of wood. The doorknob burst through the wood, and LeAnne screamed. She darted toward the shower, to the point farthest from the door. “Get away from me!”
Dorian’s face appeared in the now open doorway. Instead of the raging psychopath she had expected, he had the lost-puppy look. “Please tell me what’s wrong, LeAnne.”
“You’re gonna pay for that door.” It was the only thing she could think of.
“Gladly.” He pulled the door open farther and held a hand out to her. “Now, come talk to me.”
“No.” She held the pillow tighter to her chest. “I’ll leave the door open. Just give me a second to put clothes on.”
“Okay.” He nodded slowly, then turned and walked away.
She moved a few feet from the shower, peering around the door frame to see Dorian dressing next to the bed. As quickly as she could move, LeAnne dug through the laundry hamper. She didn’t make a habit of wearing dirty clothes, but this was an emergency. All she needed was something to cover her body so she could get away from him. She grabbed undies, a bra, T-shirt, and yoga pants.
Dorian Page 8
