She tried not to look faint. It wasn't like she hadn't expected to be a blood donor.
She’d just tried not to dwell on the details. “Um, okay. I'm sure there are Band-Aids and ibuprofen if you hurt me in the process.”
“It won't hurt.” Adrian touched her throat “Just the opposite. My bite will inject you with my venom. It's an aphrodisiac that induces euphoria. One time may be enough to make you an addict.”
She stared at him in silence for a long minute. “First one's free, then you pay forever. Life is such a bitch.”
“If you can't accept the risk, I won't touch you.”
She sighed. “See, there's a problem with that. You don't touch me, I don’t get the full mark.” She brought her mouth to his. His lips we’re warmer than she expected.
And hard. “I'm screwed and we both know it, so what's one more thing? Sink fang in me, vampire. I'm yours.”
She touched his arm, and his muscles felt like granite. He took control of the kiss, deepening it until her lips softened and clung to his. Then cupped her chin in his hand, tilted her head to the side, and grazed her throat with his lips She shivered as he explored the sensitive spot. Then she gasped as he struck. A swift, sharp pain pierced her. Almost instantly, pain exploded into pleasure.
Sybil moaned and reached for him blindly, clinging and arching up under him as he drank from her. Somehow she was on her back and he was half-laying on her.
Instead of wondering how things had progressed so quickly, decided they weren't progressing fast enough. She reached down and tore at his pants.
“Adrian,” she groaned. Her sex pulsed and ached and she was going to die if he didn't take her instantly hurry. Please.”
He pushed her hand away and got his pants open, freeing his cock. His thighs shitted to press between hers. His body settled fully onto her as she wound her legs around his waist and arched up. “Adrian. Adrian. Now.”
His bare chest crushed her soft breasts. His fangs sank deeper. His hips flexed and the thick, blunt head of his cock pushed into her, filling her with himself and a rush of magic He rocked forward and drove the full length of his shaft home. Her hips bucked wildly under his. Her orgasm hit before he was all the way inside her and continued on and on as he thrust in and out.
The first peak ebbed, built again, and continued to build until she was shaking from the need for release. He took her harder, faster, driving into her until she came a second time. It wasn't enough. The magic building between them combined with the venom coursing through her veins and demanded more.
Sybil made a low protest when Adrian pulled out and turned her over, then cried out at the sharp pleasure as he pushed into her again from behind.
She moved under him in urgent need as he worked his shaft into her inch by inch, chanting his name, sighing when he struck the other side of her neck with his fangs. She could feel his need, and the venom made it ecstasy to let him drink her in. She lost all sense of time, drugged with sex and magic that surged through her in waves while Adrian anchored her body with his.
He slid a hand underneath her and searched out her clit, stroking it as he drove his cock in and out of her channel. The added stimulation sent her rushing to another peak, but this time he joined her. Magic grounded itself in her flesh and burst into the mark she took as he poured himself into her depths.
Fifteen
Sybil paced around the room and ran her fingers through her tousled waves, wishing for a mirror. “I think my hair dried funny after what we did in the tub.”
“Ronan won't object.”
Sybil wrapped her arms around herself and frowned “Actually, I think he will. I should look proper. Is there a proper look for presenting yourself to an immortal sadomasochistic elf?”
Adrian sat up in bed, giving her a nice view of his muscular arms and chest. “Are you asking me?”
“Yes. You were a Roman centurion. You know about proper. Also, there are professional designers who don't have your sense of style. Help me out, here.”
He studied her for a few minutes, then climbed out of bed, Retrieved a carved wooden comb, and went to work on her hair, When he finished, he opened a drawer and took out a white linen shift. He pulled it over her head and adjusted the drape of the fabric. Then his hands went to the catch at the nape of her neck.
“What are you doing?”
“If you want to look like a proper submissive slave for Ronan, you shouldn't go to him wearing jewelry another lover gave you.”
The thought of being stripped of Kadar's token sent a wave of panic through her.
“I'm not taking it off. He'll just have to deal.”
“He's likely to make you deal,” Adrian warned her.
“I know. I'm still not taking it off.” Although she could think of many things Ronan could do to try to change her mind.
“You arc stubborn.”
“Actually, I’m pretty damn flexible.” Sybil turned around and waved a hand in the air “I'm making a lot of adjustments, here. It shouldn't all be one way. If I'm prepared to spend the rest of my life being an occasional sex partner to five men I didn’t know a week ago without any hope of love, commitment, or fidelity, then a member of a race humans once worshipped as gods should have the grace to let me wear a damn necklace if it makes me feel better.”
“You're on fire,” Adrian said in a calm, even tone.
She looked down, startled. Ghost flames clothed her and her hair was blowing in an invisible, wind, ruining all of his careful grooming. “Oh, crap. That was an accident. I thought I was getting more control.”
“You're also a foot off the floor.”
“Sorry.” Sybil focused on sinking back to earth, and managed a graceful landing for once. The flames didn't lessen. If anything, she burned hotter. “It’s not stopping.”
“Too much power needs an outlet,' Adrian observed.
“I know I've been channeling it into sex.”
“If the past night and day weren’t enough, you need a new outlet.”
He had a point. “I'm open to suggestions.”
“Put it into something, Preferably nothing in my home.”
She thought of Abaran and the warning he hadn't taken seriously last night. He might think his skin Kevlar, but she didn't believe immortal meant impervious to harm.
She pictured him in her mind, and then mentally surrounded him with the pent-up force she needed to release. She imagined it clothing him with protection, reinforcing his natural defences. The fire covering her vanished and she heaved a sigh of relief.
Her hand went to the once-more hopeless tangle of her hair. “Um, Adrian?”
He shook his head at her. “Never mind. As you say. Ronan will just have to deal.”
When Abaran didn't appear. Adrian guided her to a meadow full of flowers and surrounded by a ring of oaks.
He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Thank you for the pleasure of your company, And now I think you’d better wait alone. Ronan will appear when he chooses.”
“Like a cat”
The vampire gave a short laugh and left her. Sybil tried not to feel abandoned.
Instead, she could take a page from Adrian's book and appreciate beauty. She walked around admiring clusters of orchids in exotic shapes and colors, some like tiny pastel starbursts and others like jeweled bells, breathing in their heady perfume. She leaned against the rough bark of a tree trunk and thought she could feel the stillness of slow growth and roots that ran deep.
She settled on the ground underneath it and looked up at the night sky through the canopy of leaves. When she got bored with that, she practiced flying. When that tired her, she curled on her side in the field of flowers and dosed her eyes.
“Rise.”
Sybil sat up blinking, and found Ronan standing over her. He seemed taller than she'd remembered, and even more physically perfect. He didn't look amused. Maybe he was insulted that she'd fallen asleep waiting. She got to her feet and tried to brush grass and leaves out of h
er hair and clothes surreptitiously.
“Follow.”
He turned and walked away. Her brows shot up. And she thought Kenric was a man of few words. She tagged along behind him, feeling clumsy and slow. He had to be graceful being she'd ever seen.
As they walked, the only word she could think to describe the place he led her to was bower. Just past the ring of trees, the greenery grew thick and close together, forming walls and a roof. “This is your dungeon?” Sybil blurted out the words before she could stop herself.
He looked at her, his light blue eyes cool. “Do you have permission to speak?”
Her mouth opened in alienee and closed with a snap. Then she raised her hand.
“Yes?”
“If I have to have permission to speak or pay the price, you need to tell me the rules. You can't expect me to know what they are by telepathy.”
His beautiful head inclined. “You have a point. The rules are simple. You do nothing without my permission. And you accept anything I choose to do.”
“Do your other women actually go for this?”
“Yes.”
Sybil sighed and rubbed her temples. “You're going to be so high maintenance.
Beautiful people always are.”
His mouth curved in a sensual smile. “You are going to be a joy to punish.
“You are going to be a pain in my ass.”
“You don't know the half of it,” Ronan shook back his silvery hair and strode off.
Sybil watched him in awe. From every angle, he was stunning.
“Glamour,” she said out loud. “I bet without it, you have bad hair days, too.”
He gave her a questioning look.
“Never mind. I'll adjust to being blinded by your glory eventually.”
Then she heard music swell from out of nowhere and hardly dared to breathe for fear she'd break the spell of sound. It was wild and sober, beautiful and terrible, joyful and grieving. It stole her breath and made her heart ache in her chest.
“Come, let us dance.” Ronan took her hand in his and began to dance. Since she couldn’t do anything else, she followed him. The steps started out like a demonstration of athleticism. Gradually the movements became more like the forms of a martial art.
And then more seductive than a tango, raw sex expressed without a word as he drew her closer, skimmed her body with his, turned and lifted her while she floated in his arms.”
His lips brushed the curve of her neck where Adrian had bitten her. “You have another lover's mark on your body.”
“I do?” She hadn’t thought of the vampire’s bite that way, but the idea that she had some physical evidence of Adrian’s passion on her skin pleased her.
“You do. I Will mark you more.”
The tattoo. Of course, Sybil nodded and drifted with him, her feet following his, her body supple and light.
“You dance well.”
The approval in his voice went to her head. She normally danced like she had two different sizes of shoes and no sense of rhythm. It had to be the music. It had to be magic. Maybe it was Ronan. Whatever the cause, it would never happen again so she reveled in her unexpected grace and the sheer joy of physical expression. “I like dancing with you.”
“You know how the dance ends.”
She did. It ended with sex. It had to. The steps led inexorably to that, as he directed her and she followed. Surrender, hers to him, theirs to the primal need that sang and beat in all living things.
He drew her down to the earth and onto her back. His hands smoothed the linen shift she wore from neck to thigh, slid under the hem and moved up, exploring the bare skin underneath. His touch felt like an extension of the music. He caressed her with a tenderness that made her throat ache. He explored every nerve center on her body, making her wait until it was agony to be deprived of his hands on her breasts, between her legs. She needed him to touch her there. But he didn't.
Ronan urged her over onto her hands and knees, pushed the skirt up to her waist so she was bare and exposed below it. She waited, anticipating his next touch.
The sharp crack of a cane against the backs of her thighs made her cry out. The second blow, a little higher on her thighs, made her sex convulse. The third struck her buttocks and she groaned at the sensation as blood rushed to the abused area, making it throb, and the delicious sting sent a wash of sensation through her. Her sex clenched again. The fourth blow left her reeling with arousal.
Ronan's hands stroked the rounded swells of her bare butt, slid low. His fingers searched out her core, found her wet and wanting, pushed inside her.
His other hand caressed the curves of her ass before descending in a series of sharp, open-handed smacks as his fingers thrust in and out of her core.
She felt her body draw tight, aching and urgent. She was going to come again. She fought the need to, but the pleasure-pain of his attentions and the partial penetration made her wild.
“Please, she finally begged, spreading her thighs far apart and arching her lower back to offer herself. “Please Ronan.”
When she was teetering on the edge, about to go over it despite her attempt to find control, his fingers pulled out of her.
“Get on your back.”
Sixteen
Sybil rolled over, panting, her skirt flung up, legs apart, as she stared into Ronan's light blue eyes. Waiting.
He was naked, and he looked like something from the beginning of the world, a primal force. His erection jutted toward her, and she wanted to taste him on her tongue as badly as she wanted to feel him between her thighs.
Ronan lowered himself over her, his hands braced on either side of her. She felt him probe between her legs, hard and hot where she was slick And eager. “Do you take me?”
The formality made her want to laugh, despite the urgent need thrumming in her body, or maybe because or it. “With a grain of salt And do you take me?”
For an answer, he pressed forward. His flesh, velvety steel, sheathed itself in hers.
Her body opened and stretched to accept him. His torso brushed against hers, above her but not resting his weight on her. The intimate press of him inside her made her head spin. The music took on a different note, sang through their joined flesh, and her whole being needed to move to it.
“Dance with me,” she whispered.
Ronan's weight settled on her. His long hair fell around her like silver rain, the silk of it against her bare shoulders a seduction all its own. His body intoxicated her. So tall, so sculpted and lean, so unlike any other. Her hands hungered to explore all of him.
Her skin yearned for the slide of his, and when he moved on her, in her, she wrapped herself around him and felt her heart leap in celebration.
Wild music played while their bodies merged in the oldest dance. She wanted it to last forever, She wanted to find the release that eluded her. Ronan's pace drew the pleasure out until she was arching up under him, pleading in tow, throaty tones, taut and trembling with need. The steady stroke of his flesh into hers was perfection and torment. So much, so good, not enough.
Then it changed. Magic surged and built as the music grew wilder. He turned fierce, driving deeper and faster into her core in a primitive demand. Her inner muscles tightened in response. She felt herself hang on the precipice, and then the hard length of his cock pushed her over. He pulsed inside her, ejaculating in a hot jet or seed. Her flesh rippled around his in orgasm, accepting, exulting. The music sang in her skin, sound and fire sealing the mark Ronan gave her. He thrust into her again and again while they came together, extending the pleasure, and until finally they came to rest.
Sybil's heart steadied into something slower than a frantic thudding. Her breath came in longer inhalations instead of panting gasps. The weight of him pressed her down, quieting her body, anchoring her.
His lips brushed her forehead. The gesture made her smile. She was still smiling when he drew back to look into her face. She shook her head as the full impact of him struck her all
over again. “Seriously, can't you tone it down a little, Ronan?”
He gave her an odd look. “You said that before. Glamour doesn’t work on witches.
They see through it.”
Looking at you is like looking at the sun,” she grumbled. “Well, the moon, at least.
Some celestial body.” Her hands caressed him, loving the feel of his bare skin and the planes and angles of his form.
“What do you see?”
“Your hair is sort of silver, but it doesn’t make you look old Your face looks, I don't know, thirty. But your eyes are ancient. Light blue, with those rings around them,” she said in a dreamy voice, admiring him. “Your skin is so white it should look pale, but it glows like a star. You're tall, and lean and your muscles look like the kind made for endurance and not for show. You're so graceful you make everything else look awkward and slow in comparison. I could spend hours just watching you move.”
“You sound elf-struck,” Ronan said. “But you aren't seeing glamour.”
“I am elf-struck, You whipped me.” Her reaction to that, the excited urgency and sexual intensity, did not sit well with her. Kadar might've had a point; she was far less disturbed by Ronan's treatment of her than she was by the fact that she’d liked it.
“You wanted me to.” He rolled with her, coming to rest on his back with her spilled over his chest, his cock still planted inside her. “You could peak again right now just from the thought of me flogging your naked buttocks.”
There was nothing to say to that, so she pressed her cheek against him, needing closeness and tenderness. And when he gave it, that made it worse. His hands were so gentle on her that it made her eyes burn and her throat ache.
I don't want to need this, she thought but didn't say. I don’t want to belong to you when you don't belong to me.
The final piece that completed the mark signified the end. Ronan would keep her until he chose to let her go or their time ran out, and she would be left to live with the aftermath. None of them were hers. And all of them held a piece of her she would never get back. How long could she stand being an occasional amusement to them when she wanted more?
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