It seemed impossible to look at the way she accepted his fingers without his cock straining at the feel. Christ, she felt so tight. She was the hottest girl he’d ever known. Beyond other humans whose heat, at times, inebriated, Raven embraced a new drug all in herself. He wanted her. He wanted everything she had to give him. He wanted to feel her body pulse around his fingers just as he wanted to watch his dick slide in and out of her wet sanctuary. He wanted it all.
Above all else, he wanted her to know his name.
“No way I’d forget this,” he murmured again, his fingers assuming a natural rhythm as they pumped her sweet little hole. “No way I’d forget fighting with you. Fucking you. Watching you bounce on my cock. No way.”
She trembled hard beneath him, a hoarse, desperate gasp clawing for freedom. “I loved you.”
The words made his heart sing and his demon purr with delight, but he had to shove them off and way. They weren’t true. They couldn’t be. Raven didn’t love him. She loved Nicolai—the figment, the allusion of a thing that didn’t exist.
“You can love me like this,” he countered. “Learn to love me like this.”
“I do.”
Nicholas froze, his gaze shooting upward. She couldn’t have meant that. No way she even knew what she confessed. No way she could mean it, even if she did have her wits about her. The girl was dumb with love for the guy she wanted him to be. She couldn’t mean she loved the one with her now; the man whose fingers slowly took her tender pussy, whose tongue kept flicking her clit, whose mouth stood a shrine to her taste.
No way she loved him. She loved the reminder. She couldn’t love Nicholas because Nicholas wasn’t what she wanted.
“Don’t say that,” he growled, his voice angrier than he’d intended. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
Raven blinked stupidly. “But I—”
“You can’t even get the name right.” Nicholas huffed indignantly and gently tugged her clit between his teeth again. He toyed with her without hurting her, rolled her in his mouth and trembled when she whimpered and quivered against him. Then, just as quickly, he abandoned her ripe little gem and handed it to the care of his fingers.
His tongue felt in the mood to dive.
“I do love you, Nicholas.”
The voice barely sounded like hers. Desperation lived in her tone, desperation that didn’t sound like Raven at all. She sounded completely foreign at that moment, her voice heightened with an accent he knew she didn’t possess.
“No, you don’t.”
His tongue channeled his outrage at the injustice of her declaration, plunging inside her hot, tight cunt with the intention of marking her so she’d never again mistake him for someone else. He should have known, of course, that the greatest masterminds were always foils to themselves. The drops of dew he’d licked off his fingers had nothing on the unbridled taste of her trickling down his throat, of the sensation of drowning in hot perfection without any want of a lifeline. Nicholas was a goner, and he knew it.
No coming back from this.
She murmured a name, but he honestly didn’t hear which. His mind was stuck on the former, the one she wanted him to be, and the phantom’s name enraged him, but he couldn’t deny himself. Instead, Nicholas poured all his aggression into devouring her as she’d never been devoured. His fingers manipulated her clit, his tongue thrusting so deep inside her he worried he might get stuck that way. There seemed no better place to be, not with Raven under his hands, her blood hot for him.
Even still, he didn’t want the name on her lips to matter, but matter it did.
Know me. Know ME. KNOW ME!
The welcome baptism of her orgasm had him drenched, but he didn’t care. He hogged it all, the delicious flavor of her honey, the stolen laps at her inner walls as his fingers teased her. He could tease her forever. He could remain here forever. He could.
Only nothing could prevent the truth from separating them.
How much time passed, he didn’t know. Nicholas found his cheek pressed against the warmth of her belly, her fingers curled lovingly through his hair as the cool breeze of night settled down upon them.
“I know who you are,” Raven whispered at last, her voice hoarse. “I really do.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
“You’ve changed. We both have.” Her fingers continued to drift through his hair, and while he felt torn inside, there burned peace with her that he’d never found before.
He might be only a visage of what she wanted, but it seemed closer than he’d ever come to perfection. He’d be a dolt to give it up on the case of mistaken identity.
No matter how much he wanted to be Nicolai. Because from the sound of things, Nicolai had it pretty great before he ran off and got himself killed.
“Raven…”
“I know who you are, Nicholas.”
“But this isn’t what you want.”
He flinched inwardly. There were times when his thoughts and his actions really didn’t agree.
“No, it—”
“I’m not what you want. I’m not Nicolai. I’m just…” He trembled. “I’m drawn to you. God knows I am. Always have had a thing for your kind. And it’s different with you. I don’t know if it has anything to do with what you’ve told me—”
“Nicholas—”
“My life’s gone lopsided, you hear? I came here to kill you and now…”
He felt her humorless chuckle. “We’re two-for-two.”
“Raven, I’m serious.”
“So am I. It’s kinda funny when you think about it.”
“A laugh riot for those who get the joke, I’m sure.” He pulled back and met her eyes, willing her to see inside him. “You might’ve loved this guy, sweetheart, but I’m not him.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, kitten, I’m not. And if we do this, it can’t be about…him. It has to be you and me. You and me. If you can’t love me for not being him or—”
“But I—”
Nicholas held up a hand. “You can’t love me. If I’m not him, there’s nothing but a pipe dream. And someday you’ll realize it.”
Raven stared at him for a long time but said nothing.
He’d never seen joy melt into sorrow so quickly.
He’d never seen anyone look so haunted.
Nicholas sighed and tugged her down before he could stop himself, folding her small, perfect body in the welcoming protection of his arms. He didn’t know what to do anymore and he honestly didn’t know if he cared. All he did know was his reality had mucked up beyond repair. The girl he’d meant to destroy was suddenly the one thing worth living for.
He didn’t know what it meant, and he felt too blasted tired to try to figure it out now.
Right now, he wanted to hold her in the quiet and have a few stolen moments with his night angel.
Chapter 15
Colonial New Hampshire, 1701
He would absolutely wring her neck when he got a hold of her. After, of course, he got his fill of caressing her skin and kissing her lips and feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath his fingertips. After he felt certain, once and for all, she was all right.
Then he would kill her for making him worry.
Nicolai had never felt such a starving pang of desperate panic as when he awoke that morning and found himself in an empty bed and his arms still tingling with the warmth his beloved left saturated in his skin. He didn’t know how long ago she’d left—her heavenly aroma still lingered in the air. But she had gone, and he remained trapped by sunlight.
He had no doubt as to where she’d gone, especially after listening to the heartbreaking ring of her sobs all night after Kenneth and his merry troop had given up their search. For the few, blissful months they’d been together, Ravenna had lived under a shadow of paralyzing fear that their happiness would eventually meet the business end of a stake. She’d never been quiet about what kept her up at night or her worries that Kenneth would take Nic
olai away from her, as though, in Kenneth’s mind, he was a possession—a toy his pseudo-daughter enjoyed but couldn’t have for keeps.
Ravenna hadn’t heard the implication in her words when relaying her fears, but Nicolai had. It outraged him. Not for the way she spoke, rather for the way Kenneth had taught her to view herself. She referred to herself as the property of the High Council, as though she hadn’t the faculties, the free will or the components of a true human being. In that sense, she meant nothing more to the world than a weapon with arms and legs.
It maddened and devastated him. His precious girl had lived under this presumption for so long. She’d believed herself to be less than human because of the nature of her calling.
Nicolai supposed that it remained a way for the High Council kept the Few in line. The old buggers knew a thing or two about the balance of power. If they let the Few live under the delusion that they were human and entitled to everything inherent in their nature, they might eventually wise up to the fact that they were not only human, but damned strong.
They had strength men feared.
It seemed human nature to belittle and demean what it did not understand. After all, if the Few ever got to a point where they realized they were only as weak as their Guardians made them believe, there would be all hell to pay.
A cold thought paralyzed his insides. God, could it be he was to blame? Had Nicolai fed Ravenna with too much animosity toward Kenneth and his Machiavellian rule over her that she’d decided to go and end it in person? Or had she gone with only Nicolai’s welfare at heart? Had she truly been so blind as to not realize that Kenneth meant for her to share whatever fate he had in store for her vampire mate?
Ravenna had too much faith in the will of human goodness, whereas Nicolai had lived too long to believe anything could ever be so black and white. He’d seen evil that would make the darkest of dark creatures cower in the shadows, evil no demon could fathom, produced by the hand of man. Man wasn’t a just or moral creature, rather one that craved blood and domination, often at the expense of others. There existed no superior inner good, only a bedtime story mothers told children to justify acts of horrific violence. Man lived to control and destroy, and there stood no better example than Kenneth Mal.
Though to be fair, Nicolai knew that forms of human goodness did exist, despite his cynicism. He’d seen more than his fair share of warmth and compassion between and among God’s favored creation. Most vampires silently lamented its loss after they were born into the night. It was the sort of love that held civilizations together. No, not all was black, gruesome death in the human world. Love existed. Love many demons never touched, and therefore resented above all else.
It was a love Nicolai had somehow found, and one Kenneth Mal would not deny him. If one hair on Ravenna’s precious head were harmed, Nicolai would give the tragedians something to write about. He would rip the arms off every miserable soul in the village. He would shred flesh with his teeth, make husbands watch the slaughter of their wives. He would make the world feel the pain it had inflicted upon him. He would redefine his species so that vampires became more than the damned. They would be called Lucifer’s own children, and even then, he doubted his agony-inspired blood thirst would be avenged.
Kenneth better pray that no harm came to Ravenna, else the world pay with blood.
As it stood, the only thing keeping Nicolai from completely losing his head was the knowledge that the old man wouldn’t be satisfied with Ravenna’s death alone. No matter how disgusted Mal felt by her actions, his revulsion paled in comparison for how he viewed her vampire corruptor. Any action taken against Ravenna would therefore be molded to draw Nicolai out of the shadows and into open territory. Kenneth knew as well as he did that live bait always captured the bigger fish.
Ravenna had to be alive. She had to be.
At least until he got his hands on her and shook her gorgeous self for doing the impossible, for making an immortal man age with anxiety.
She lived. She did. Beyond logic, beyond understanding, he felt her. He felt her richly. The claim’s call could not be denied. He felt the gentle pulse of her life, weaker than usual but very much there. She felt frail through their connection. She felt small. She felt like anything but what she was.
She felt drugged.
Nicolai snarled in victory as the last of sunlight dipped under the horizon. His beloved remained out there. Her Guardian had pumped toxins into her blood, and for him there would be no mercy.
There were only a handful of instances when Nicolai had been drawn into the heart of the village. Once or twice when he needed food and couldn’t find any witless stragglers on whom to feed, and a few times before he admitted his love for Ravenna and could do nothing but watch her from a distance, coveting something he didn’t wish to name. Most older vampires felt it wiser, especially when living in solitude in under-populated areas, to live as far from the public eye as possible. The Americas had one or two actual cities, but none with the booming population of London or other choice European destinations. In smaller villages, creatures of the night often drew unwanted attention.
Most of the older generation knew the rules, or had at least devised a system for living that kept their presence unnoticed.
Now, if they lived in Paris, circumstances would differ entirely. So many people, so much distraction…so much good eating.
Nicolai supposed he should count his blessings. Had Ravenna lived anywhere else, she likely would have killed him well before they had the opportunity to discover how desperately they loved each other. He made note to thank the good Lord later. Right now he felt too starved for her touch and at too much of a loss to know where to aim his feet.
He didn’t remain indecisive for long. Another perk of small villages was it seemed easy to pick out the angry mobs, especially when they wielded torches.
Torches.
A sharp breath caught in Nicolai’s throat, and at once he knew.
He knew.
“Christ,” he breathed.
He hadn’t seen a burning in ages. The only one he’d attended had taken place outside St. Salvator’s Chapel, a religious execution of God-fearing men who didn’t fear God enough to keep them from setting so-called heretics on fire. A century and a half had passed since then. It had been so long that Nicolai had thought the practice very much outdated. However, one didn’t forget the signs of a burning after having seen human savagery at its best.
They planned to burn Ravenna.
His inner monster roared in fury and suddenly fell blind to logistics and rationality. The demon didn’t care that raging into a sea of men with torches would not only ensure his death but confirm Ravenna’s sentence as well. The demon just knew his mate dangled in danger, and his nerves felt split. He didn’t give a righteous damn about himself. He just needed to get her to safety.
Something he couldn’t well do if he died.
Thankfully, the demon soon felt overpowered by the man’s sense of reason. Nicolai’s options were minimal at best. He had super-strength on his side but little else. He hadn’t a legion of loyal followers ready to take the village by storm, and even if he did get to Ravenna without managing to get himself killed in the process, the chances of escape for either of them were weighed against grim odds. While he didn’t rightly care too much about the safety of his own hide, he knew his girl.
He knew her. She embodied his equal in every way. Just as he wanted to rip the world apart now, if something happened to him, she wouldn’t think straight. The world would quiver at her rage.
“Balls,” Nicolai cursed, the screaming components of his brain beating through the walls of reason. “Think, you moron. Think.”
The claim stirred, and he felt her emerging slowly from unconsciousness. With the first pang of fear which raced through her heart, he gave way to panic without further consideration. He had no time to stand around and devise some grand plan. He needed to think something up fast, something to create a few minutes. Ninety secon
ds would do. Whatever could get him to Ravenna without the eyes of a crowd to witness her escape.
What he needed was a diversion.
The word alone sparked something in his brain. A diversion. He could create a diversion. It shouldn’t be too difficult. Just get the angry mob to shift their focus from Point A to Point B. Diversions were simple. People in groups were daft by default. If one pointed at something, the masses would look. He’d need nothing else but a quick diversion, something monumental enough to distract them from the burning.
Something like another burning.
Nicolai drew in a sharp breath, his legs breaking into a run as the clockwork of his mind cranked and churned and formed the outline of what would have to be his plan. He hadn’t time for anything else. By the time he reached the outskirts of the riot, he’d convinced himself it was solid enough to accomplish what he needed accomplished.
It had to be. He had nothing else.
“Oi, you!” he called to the first one he saw—a kid of about nineteen, maybe twenty, holding a torch and migrating slowly to the heat of the commotion. The kid turned around, a look of unbridled eagerness on his face. Nicolai forced his temper down. “What’s the ruckus?”
The kid blinked and pinned him with a plainly incredulous look. “You mean you haven’t heard? Town’s got us a witch. There’s gonna be a burning t’night.”
Nicolai arched a brow. “A witch?”
“Ole Man Mal confirmed it. His girl, Ravie. Know Ravie?”
He gritted his teeth and did his best to keep his demon at bay. He just needed that torch. “I’ve heard of her.”
“Pretty girl. It’s a shame, is what it is. I’ve always wanted a peek up her skirt. If she weren’t a damned witch…” The kid broke off and shook his head heavily. Then, belatedly, a frown marred his brow and he glanced up, his eyes narrowing as he took Nicolai in. “Wait. What’d you say your name was?”
It was the last thing the kid would have a chance to say. In a blink, he’d collapsed in a heap, his neck snapped, and his torch in Nicolai’s possession.
Ripples Through Time Page 16
