“Oops. It was supposed to make you laugh, not croak.” She pounded on his back with more strength than he’d have given her credit for. Hell, with more strength than he figured a troll would have.
“Ow.”
“Sorry.” She backed off, her face a study in contrasting emotions.
“Go ahead, laugh at me. I’m the one choking to death on a gnat.”
She bit back her laugh manfully. “Come in?”
“Thank you.” He closed the gate and leaned against it. “Let’s try that again, shall we? Hello, sweet.”
“Hello, sour.” She giggled.
He rolled his eyes and pulled her shaking form into his arms. “Someone’s begging for a tickling.”
She wiggled for a second, a mulish expression on her face. “I’m not ticklish.”
M’lady doth protest too much. He curled his fingers and twitched them. She squirmed in his grasp, those huge eyes narrowed dangerously. “I swear, you will regret it.”
Someday he’d go ahead with his dastardly plan to make her giggle until she cried uncle, but for now? He had more important things to do. He leaned down, taking a deeper taste of her than he had the night before, sweeping his tongue between her lips for a hello kiss that left them both wanting more. “Mm. So. Will I regret it?”
“Hmm?” That sexy, mysterious smile was back, the one that made him want to kiss her even more.
So he did, turning until her back was to the gate. She slid her arms around his neck, holding him close, tight almost to the point where he was glad he didn’t have to breathe. His cock throbbed behind his jeans; the need to pull her to the ground and have her, take her was almost overwhelming. He wanted to be inside this woman in the worst way. He moaned against her, thrust his hips forward so she’d know exactly what she did to him.
Her answering groan was music to his ears. His fangs descended in preparation to feast on the precious woman he held in his arms. He needed her like no one else.
His fangs nipped her lip, drawing blood. He reeled as her flavor exploded on his tongue, damn near coming in his pants at the rich, earthy flavor of Amara’s blood. He sucked on the tiny wound he’d inflicted, already addicted to her taste.
Much more of this and he’d be missing work for all the right reasons.
“Stop.”
He pulled back instantly, the loss of her touch painful.
She touched her bleeding lip, her eyes dark and wide. “You bit me.”
He shook his head. “No. My fangs. I nicked you by accident, I swear.” If she sends me away, I might as well greet the dawn.
And that thought terrified him even more.
“I believe you.” The relief that rushed through him was short-lived. “But I need you to meet someone.” She took him to a stunning Schwedler Norway maple crowned in brilliant crimson leaves. “Beautiful.”
She smiled again, and it felt like the moon had come out from behind clouds. “Thank you.”
“This is your tree?” He figured introducing a potential mate to your tree was a big deal for a dryad.
Parker froze. Mate?
He glanced down at the smiling woman beside him and licked his lips. Her taste lingered on his tongue, and he shuddered.
Oh fuck yes. She’s my singele sotiei. Bloody hell. Terri is going to kill her.
“Touch the tree, Parker. She wants to say hello.” A dryad and her tree couldn’t be separated. If Amara accepted him but her tree didn’t, Parker would greet the dawn. He’d have no other choice.
There was no real choice. Parker would do anything his sotiei asked of him. He touched Amara’s tree and found himself sucked into an intellect so alien yet so familiar he felt overwhelmed. That intelligence delved into him, sought out his darkest places, basked in the sunshine he’d managed to hold on to despite his curse and the physical loss of Greg, rooted out his pettiest feelings and his deepest desires. It latched on to his feelings for Amara and turned them inside out, examined them, pulled them apart and put them back together like a child’s toy.
By the time it was done, Parker was ready to drop from exhaustion. The tree withdrew from his thoughts with a final farewell caress that meant he’d been accepted at the deepest levels.
“She likes you. She really likes you.” The pleasure and satisfaction in Amara’s voice mirrored his.
Wonderful. Now if only I can get my legs to work…
“Oh dear.” Amara gasped as Parker hit the ground with a resounding thump. “Oh boy.” She glared at her tree and tapped her foot. “What did you do to him?” Leaves rustled, the maple’s equivalent of soundless laughter. “Uh-huh. Well, at least I’m sure now Parker had nothing to do with what happened in my garden.” A leaf fell, one crimson tear shed for the loss of Amara’s last link to the woman she’d thought about calling mother. “Thank you.”
Maybe she could ask Parker to help her figure out who had done it and why. The townspeople were prime suspects, but they’d never before damaged the garden. Indeed, some of the people who actively disliked her loved that garden and would be as devastated as she was at its loss.
One way or another Amara would get to the bottom of the destruction. The destroyer would hurt when she was done with them. Then she could begin rebuilding the dream she and Glinda had shared. She’d made a start already by clearing away some of the death and destruction. She’d prepare the ground, fertilize it well, and when the growing time came, she’d be there as always. It would take years for the mature trees to grow back, for the plants to spread and thrive.
Amara picked Parker up and slung him over her shoulder, careful to keep his head from bouncing on the ground. He was a foot taller than her, and she didn’t want to accidentally damage him. “I’m taking him home. You be good. We’ll talk when I get back.”
She carted him through the gate and back to his house. “If he can go in without an invitation, then so can I.” She opened his front door, only to shut it again so quickly she feared she’d permanently bruised his right butt cheek. “Or not.” She blinked, trying to erase the sight of a naked Brian bent over the arm of Parker’s leather couch. “I do not want to know.”
She sighed and shifted Parker. He wasn’t all that heavy, but his limp body was terribly awkward. “Guess you’re sleeping at my house tonight. Where do vampires sleep anyway? Do you need a coffin? A pile of dirt? Blackout curtains?” She hoisted him through the door, almost knocking over her antique umbrella stand with his head. She’d better call Dragos. The elder vampire would know what to do.
She carted Parker to her room, hoping her scent would soothe him if he woke up, then headed back downstairs and picked up the phone. She didn’t bother to dial. She didn’t have to. “Dragomir Ibanescu.”
The click of the phone being answered was faint. “Yes, Amara?”
“I have a vegetarian vampire in my bed who’s had a conversation with my tree.”
There was a pause. Then again, whenever Amara called Dragos he paused to process whatever she was telling him. It had long ago ceased to bother her, but she did wonder sometimes why her calls were so unusual. After all, she wasn’t the strangest person he knew, not by a long shot. “And?”
“He’s unconscious.”
“Ah. You are worried he is injured?”
Dragos’s faint accent never failed to send a shiver down her spine. Was that why Parker’s accent was so irresistible? Maybe she had a thing for tall, dark, exotic men with lovely accents. “I don’t know how long he’ll be out or how to keep him safe from the sun.”
“And where is his Renfield?”
“Uhhh—” she coughed, “—busy. Very busy.”
Again one of Dragos’s infamous pauses filled the air. “I see.” He was amused. “Make sure the room you put him in gets little sunlight. Unlike the movies, he won’t combust to ash at the merest touch of Helios’s rays, but he will be very uncomfortable if left in direct sunlight.” The amusement turned to gentle teasing when he added, “He is a plant that requires shade. Too much time in the sun
will burn him to a crisp.”
She blew the mayor of Maggie’s Grove the wettest raspberry she could.
“You’re welcome.” The connection cut off, but not before Dragos laughed.
Really. People thought the elder vamp was cold and unfeeling. Amara knew better. Dragos was a friend. Hell, her tree liked him, and that was good enough for her.
Amara dialed Parker’s employer. Now, this was a conversation she was not looking forward to.
“The Greenhouse, Miss Ferguson speaking.”
“Mollie? It’s Amara.”
“Oh. Hello, Amara. Is there a problem?” Mollie’s tone instantly chilled.
“I introduced Parker to my tree, and now he’s unconscious. Was he supposed to work tonight?”
“Yes, he was.” The chill turned to concern. “Does he need a doctor?”
Amara held back her sigh. “No. He’s physically uninjured.”
“Does he need the witchdoctor, then?”
She gritted her teeth and kept her tone polite. “My tree wouldn’t hurt him that way.”
“Amara. I’m sorry, but you are what you are. Should you call Selena?”
“No.”
This time the pause was uncomfortable. She’d much rather talk to Dragos any day. “Tell him to call me when he can return to work.” The chill was back.
“I’ll do that.” Amara hung up without any further words. None were needed. That chore taken care of, she ran a circuit of both her garden and Parker’s. “No weeds. Good.” She dusted her hands off and knocked on Parker’s front door, praying Brian and Greg were finished with whatever they’d been doing, because she really didn’t need to see it again.
The front door opened. Brian, disheveled and happy, had a huge red mark on his neck. “How did you get a love bite?”
He blushed almost as fiery red as the leaves of her tree. “Hello to you too. Where’s Parker?”
“My place. I introduced him to my tree.”
Brian winced. “Oh. He’s out, huh?”
She frowned. “Did you expect that?”
“I bet fifty-fifty odds that he’d go down, yeah. Greg owes me—uh. Never mind.” He rubbed at the hickey. “Did your tree like him?”
“Yes, she did.”
He grinned. “Then I expect I’ll see some love bites on your neck soon.”
Amara covered her lip.
“Ooooh. Did he get a taste?” Brian turned his head, looking at something she couldn’t see. His face softened; his smile gentled. “Yeah, Greg. I’ll ask.” He turned back to her. “Can Greg go check on Parker? He’s worried about him.”
“Of course. He’s in my room. Does Greg need help finding him?”
He tilted his head, listening. “Nope. He has some sort of spiritual connection to Parker, so he knows where he is. He’s just being polite.” Brian’s eyes widened. “You didn’t. You did? Holy crap, Greg! No wonder he calls you his Casper!” And he began to laugh, writhing around like he was having fits. “Stop! Please stop! Uncle!”
“Was he tickling you?”
Brian nodded and wiped his eyes. “Yes, he was. He cast a spell so that when he was reborn, he and Parker would always be able find each other. But he forgot a deathbed spell is much stronger than a usual one, and instead of being reborn—”
“He came back as Parker’s Casper.” Amara grinned. “Something you’re reaping the benefits of?”
Brian caressed his hickey once more. “Yeah.” His hips jerked forward, a startled look crossing his face. “Would you mind very much if I came over too?”
“Sure, not a problem.” Amara stepped aside to let Brian, and presumably Greg, out the door and to her house. “I’m getting my exercise tonight and I haven’t left the same fifty yards.”
“Now you know how a gerbil feels. All you need is a wheel and some—No, wait, we have the wood chips.” He pointed toward the mulch in one of the flower beds.
Amara stared up at him, wondering if the stress had finally gotten to him.
Brian shrugged. “What?”
She led him into her house and to her room. “You’re weird.”
“And you’re not?”
She opened the door, happy to see Parker was sleeping peacefully. “Of course I am. That’s why I fit in so well here.”
Brian winced and stroked her arm in apology. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Yeah. I know.” She patted his cheek to let him know his apology was accepted.
The low, inhuman growl that came from the bed startled them both. Amara turned to face a drastically altered Parker. His fangs had dropped; his mouth was lifted in a dangerous snarl. Parker was motionless, his red eyes glued to the man Amara had so innocently touched.
What the hell?
Amara took a step toward Parker and held out her hand. “What’s wrong?”
She was yanked forward so quickly she had no time to react. Parker jerked her beneath him, his clawed hand around her neck. He growled at Brian, but his thumb caressed Amara’s neck just below her pulse.
Was Parker protecting her?
She dug her fingers into his arm. “Parker? It’s all right. Brian’s a friend.” She glanced at Brian and gasped. The Renfield knelt on the floor, with his head back and his eyes closed, baring his neck. He muttered ancient words that soothed Parker. She could feel the tension leaving Parker’s body as the vampire accepted the Renfield’s submissive display.
Or so she thought.
When Parker moved closer, she assumed it was all over, until she saw that his eyes were still glowing red, still focused on the Renfield.
His fangs pierced her neck before she could blink.
Amara’s whole body bowed. White-hot pain shrieked through her, followed so quickly by mind-searing pleasure so intense, she never wanted it to end. Long pulls at her neck pulsed through her, like hands intimately caressing every part of her body. She wrapped her legs around Parker, desperate to get closer, to climb into him the way she did her tree and meld them together until she didn’t know where she ended and he began.
In the background Brian continued his chant, but she didn’t care about Brian or Greg or anything but the pleasure rolling through her. She grabbed Parker’s head and held him in place, offering herself up to him, letting him take his fill. Whatever he needed, whenever he needed, if she could provide, she would so long as he didn’t stop. She was on the edge of orgasm, so close she could taste it. She needed something to push her over into ecstasy. The door shut with a quiet click, giving her and Parker privacy.
Claws ripped through her jeans, scratching long lines down her legs. She noticed his jeans were off when she reached down to clasp his ass and touched firm, bare flesh. Parker buried himself inside her in one powerful thrust, and Amara shrieked, coming so hard the room went dark.
“More.” The gravelly voice was barely recognizable as Parker’s, the red glow of his eyes barely dimmed by the feeding and the fucking. Not that Amara was complaining. The feel of Parker inside her was insane, incredible. Warm and hard and so deep she could practically taste him.
“More,” she agreed, pulling him even closer. She thrust up against him, uncaring that her strength might be more than he could handle.
It turned out it wasn’t. He smiled at her, his teeth stained with her blood, his eyes bright as he pounded into her so hard the bed almost danced across the floor. A mortal woman would have been bruised, possibly injured. Even another dryad would have had trouble taking the force of Parker’s thrusts.
Thank the Goddess she wasn’t normal, because she was loving every minute of Parker’s fucking. She gave as good as she got, arching against him, tugging at him, tearing his shirt from his back so she could feel the muscles flex and bunch under her palms. “Fuck me, Parker. Harder.”
That low, menacing growl was aimed at her, but she wasn’t afraid. He was giving everything he was to her and she reveled in the gift.
Amara was enthralled. This was someone whose strength was a match for hers, whose fear wo
uldn’t hold him back.
This was a mate worthy of her.
Her orgasm built again, ripping through her. She barely had time to take breath before she was robbed of it, every muscle in her body clenching with the force of her pleasure. This time she dragged him along with her, pulling his orgasm from him in a rippling tide that left them damp, limp and sated to their toes. He collapsed on top of her and buried his head in the pillow beside her neck, caressing her damp skin.
When Parker finally lifted his head, his gaze was back to warm brown. “Fuck.”
“Mm-hmm.” Amara pressed a kiss to Parker’s sweaty neck, damn near purring in sleepy satisfaction.
“Did I hurt you?”
Something in Parker’s tone disturbed the humming pleasure throbbing through her. “No.”
“Good.” He was so relieved she had to wonder if he’d ever accidentally hurt anyone during sex, but that didn’t seem like the Parker she knew.
“I’m fine. Hell, I’m better than fine. You blew my mind.” She pushed his hair back from his damp forehead and grinned when he licked the twin pinpricks on her neck. “Thank you.”
He snorted. “You’re thanking me? For what?”
“You’ll see.”
He huffed a laugh. “That doesn’t sound ominous, does it?”
She pinched his side, delighted when his laugh deepened. “What was that all about, anyway?”
“Oh Lord. Brian—did I hurt him?”
She shook her head. “He’s fine. He did some freaky chanting thing, and your attention turned toward me.”
He froze. “I was that far gone?”
Okay, this was getting weird, even for her. “Care to explain?”
The look he gave her would have been scary if his cock weren’t buried, hard as a rock despite the mind-blowing orgasm, inside her. “Weres aren’t the only supernaturals with a beast inside them.”
“And?”
“He didn’t like you and Brian touching.”
It only took her a moment to figure out what had brought out his beast. “You felt possessive of me.” He nodded and pulled out and away, his expression closed off.
He thinks I’m going to reject him. Little did he know, she planned to get some strong, thick chains and tie his ass to the bed until she could experience his brand of loving again. “Brian is a friend and, more important, your Renfield. He thought he’d hurt my feelings, and was apologizing. I was accepting the apology.”
Blood of the Maple Page 8
