Suddenly, his mood shifted, and the air seemed to thin. The shadows darkened, and candles guttered in their sconces. “Why did you smell like lilies when I found you in the field with Malphas?”
She wasn’t going to answer that either. “I’ll answer one of those questions. I’ll tell you what I saw in the visions. I witnessed you killing the queen. In another vision, I saw a baby with silver eyes like yours. There was a hairpin on a table, like the tattoo on your arm.”
Shadows licked the air around him, and his gaze drilled into her. “And what else?”
“I saw your punishment in Maremount, when you were nailed to the stake in front of the fortress.”
The rigid set of his shoulders told her not to bring up Stolas—that it would be too much for him.
“Is that it?”
“And I saw flashes of what you were doing at the time. The valkyries, the House of Shades. I saw you in Boston.”
His aura sliced the air around him, and goosebumps rose on her skin. “Did you learn why I was nailed to that stake?” he asked.
“No.” But whatever it was, it had to do with Stolas.
“I’d never have allowed you to use my magic if it weren’t life and death.”
Her fingers tightened on the edge of his bed, and she looked down at the floor. She’d already made up her mind that she trusted him, hadn’t she? Despite how terrifying he could be, she’d already decided he wasn’t going to hurt her. So what was she scared of?
If she truly trusted him—maybe she should just ask him about necromancy.
She took a deep breath. “And now I have a question for you.” She gazed up at him from below her lashes. “Why have you prohibited bone conjuring?”
Silence filled the room, heavy as dirt. Maybe this was a bad idea.
Her muscles tensed, and she ventured, “I don’t understand why we can’t try to bring Miranda back.”
“What do you know about it?” he asked.
She took a steadying breath. “Aurora told me you’d forbidden it. I just don’t understand why. What’s the price?”
“I knew you were leaving out part of the story.” His eyes darkened, swirling with shadows and he took a step closer. He leaned down, his hands resting on either side of her hips, like he was searching her eyes for lies. “What else did you see in your visions of my life?”
“What?”
“There is a reason you’re asking me about bone conjuring. What did you see?”
What, exactly, does he think I saw? “I didn’t see anything from your life about bone conjuring. I wanted to understand why you don’t want me to bring Miranda back. That’s the reason I’m asking.”
He straightened again. “I’ve prohibited it because death is the province of the gods. The original seven. Even I’m not meant to control it, as a demigod.”
“Those are the only details you’ll give me?”
Deep in her skull, Cleo began to grow restless again, and Rosalind found her gaze lingering over Caine’s muscled body.
Still standing, his gaze pierced her. “Why don’t you tell me what happened with you and Malphas?”
Deflect. She frowned. “Is it just me, or are you jealous?” She leaned back on his bed, and let the strap of her dress fall down. She didn’t move to lift it again.
As if entranced, his gaze lingered on her bare shoulder and the curve of her breast.
Now, that is how you distract in incubus.
Chapter 32
As if lured in by a siren song, he sat next to her on the bed. His arm brushed against her shoulder. The feel of his skin against hers sent her heart racing, and they’d barely even made contact.
“Jealous?” he said. “Demigods don’t get jealous.”
She frowned. “Lie. I may not read pupil dilation like you and Malphas, but I know that’s a lie.”
He shrugged. “I just need to make sure you haven’t been torturing my little brother again.”
“Malphas trusts me, even if you don’t.”
He studied her. “Why did you come here?”
“When you were gone, I realized something about you.”
“What?”
She took a deep breath, and straightened. “We might have a twisted history, and maybe you don’t trust me. But you’re always looking out for me.” Her gaze slid over his powerful body—the rippling muscles and the vicious looking tattoos. She lingered on the hairpin on his forearm. “You’ve kept secrets from me. And I’ve kept them from you. And yet, I trust you anyway. I feel like you would keep me safe, even if Esmerelda says you’ll dump me in the whore pit when you’re through. So maybe you should trust me, too. Even if I don’t tell you everything.”
“You trust me, now, do you?” Slowly, he reached for her, then ran his thumb over her lower lip.
Her body stirred at his touch.
“I’m glad you’re catching on, little Hunter,” he said.
She had the strongest impulse to flick her tongue against his finger, but she resisted. “And I came here because you seem to have the power of quieting Cleo’s voice.”
He pulled his hand away. “I do?”
“Only when you touch me.” Her pulse raced. Sitting this close to him, she wanted his beautiful lips on hers—all over her body. “And Cleo was being very loud, so I thought I’d pay you a visit.”
He was looking at her so intently, like he wanted to devour her. Like he was holding on to his restraint by a thread. His grip tightened on the edge of his bed, knuckles whitening. She wet her lips, and his keen gaze caught the movement. His muscled chest seemed to rise and fall faster, and his aura curled around her, vibrating over her skin. Her body responded to the feel of his magic.
His gaze slowly raked over her breasts, then lower still. He looked so enraptured, she was sure his gaze went right through the silk to the black lace beneath her dress.
“Why do I feel like you’re trying to distract me from the questions I’m asking?” he asked, as if in a daze.
“Is it working? Surely a demigod isn’t so easily distracted.”
His gaze met hers again. “I wonder, Rosalind. Perhaps there’s another way to coax your secrets from you.” Slowly, he unclenched his fingers from the blankets, and reached for her.
As he drew his fingertips over her ribs, his touch sent an electric thrill over her skin. Instantly, her back arched at his touch. He stroked her ribs, back and forth, and she swallowed hard.
Tracing lower over her abdomen, Caine leaned in closer. For someone who gave the impression of predatory lethality half the time, she was struck by the unexpected gentleness of his touch—just as when he’d kissed her before in the hall. And it was precisely that gentleness that was going to drive her nuts.
Her breathing shallowed.
As his breath warmed the side of her face, his eyes lost their shadows and returned to their starlit color, burning bright as a dying star. “Tell me about the spells you’ve woven, Rosalind,” he whispered, sliding his fingers over her belly.
Through her gown, heat from his fingertips seemed to inflame her skin. I’m not telling you a damn thing, but you better keep touching me that way.
Her body warmed to his touch, heat swooping through her belly.
His fingers stroked lower, over the hollow of her hips. Her entire world narrowed to that thrilling touch. When he stroked just over the top of her panties, his touch painfully light, she had an overwhelming desire to tear off her gown. She was going to lose her mind if he didn’t move any faster. She wanted his lips on hers, wanted his hands to grip her harder. He leaned in, but he kept his mouth just out of reach, hovering just an inch from hers.
“Tell me, my Hunter,” he whispered.
Cleo’s voice had gone completely silent. Rosalind heard only her own heated breaths—and her thudding heart—as Caine’s aura caressed her skin.
Caine lowered his face into the curve of her neck, his breath warming her throat. She let her head tilt back, leaning further back on her hands. Lower, Caine.
“Tell me, Rosalind,” he whispered, fingertips tracing over silk.
Her heart raced faster, heat surging through her core. Was he seducing her to get information from her? Right now, she wasn’t sure that she cared. She couldn’t even remember what his damn questions were. All she knew was that his fingers were nearly where she needed them, lighting her body on fire.
At last, the tips of his fingers slid lower down her silk dress, between her legs, and he drew small circles. Gasping, she let her legs open. She pressed harder against his hand, and a moan escaped her throat.
She couldn’t wait for his kiss any longer. She reached up, cupping her hand behind his neck, and pulled him in. He pressed his mouth against hers, claiming her. At first, he kissed her fiercely, hungrily. Slowly, the kiss grew more sensual. Gently, his tongue slipped in, brushing against hers, and he groaned softly. In the next moment, he was gently tugging up her dress, the silk sliding along her legs.
Their kiss deepened, and her body blazed with heat. He slid one of his hands between her knees, fingers hot on her bare skin. Just when she thought she was about to lose her mind, he pulled away from the kiss, breathing hard.
Her lip curled. How long is he going to draw this out for?
Gods, she needed him now. She gripped his neck, trying to pull him closer, to press his body against hers. But he resisted, his touch achingly light on the inside of her thigh. “Hunter. You still haven’t answered my question.”
He was teasing her mercilessly, and her body trembled at his touch. He liked his control over her.
“Caine,” she whispered, her heart racing. “I don’t care about the question.”
“But you care that I keep touching you, don’t you?” His fingertips moved up the inside of her thigh—glacially slow. As they moved higher, her breath hitched in her throat. He paused—inches away from where she needed him, and he began tracing slow circles again on her thigh.
He was going to drive her insane. Does he want me to beg?
“Tell me what I want to know,” he said, his voice rough. “Or I’ll have to stop.”
Her breath came fast, her body dampening with sweat. She didn’t want to play his games, didn’t even remember what he was asking for at this point. In fact, she wasn’t sure she could speak right now, since the entirety of her world was now a few fingers on her thighs.
Maybe he needs some encouragement. She reached down to the hem of her gown, and pulled off her dress. She tossed it to the ground, then pushed the hair out of her eyes.
Caine’s eyes slid to her peaked breasts, visible through her sheer bra. His fingers tightened on her thigh. He seemed to take in every inch of her skin, his attention completely rapt. Eyes blazing, his gaze raked lower, between her thighs.
She wasn’t sure anyone had ever looked at her the way he was staring at her now, with such raw, animalistic lust. And she liked it. She lay back on his bed, propping up on her elbows. She’d wanted this since… well if she was honest, since she’d first seen him.
His aura whipped from his body in a flash of silver. Once more, he let his burning gaze roam over her body. A look of pure, carnal lust. He wasn’t trying to get her to talk anymore. That game was over.
As he lay down next to her on the bed, he cupped the side of her face, kissing her desperately. Slowly, he slid his fingers just under the top of her panties. She groaned into his mouth, her fingers curling into his hair. His muscled body pressed against her, his skin warming hers. Slowly, she ran her fingers down his body, feeling every hard plane until she slipped her fingers inside the top of his boxers, delighting in his gasp.
With a low growl, he unhooked her bra, pulling it off. He kissed her throat, then his warm mouth slowly moved lower over her breasts. She wrapped her legs around his body. As his kisses trailed down to her hips, she arched into him. She tangled her fingers into his hair, her thighs brushing his sides.
With a smoldering glance at her, he ran his fingers over the silver ribbon at the top of her panties, sending shivers through her. He leaned down, kissing the skin just above it, his tongue hot against her skin. A hot thrill rippled through her. She needed him, now.
“Caine,” she breathed.
As he hooked his fingers into the top of her panties, she lifted her hips, and he slid them off. Desperate for more of his mouth on hers, she pulled him toward her. He kissed her deeply, hungrily. And when his fingers slipped between her legs, she thought she was going to lose her mind. Her body writhed with pure pleasure, grinding against his hand. He dipped his fingers again and again. She moaned, moving against his hand, demanding more.
Pulling him closer, she kissed his neck. As he touched her, her hands explored his skin. She slipped her fingers into his boxers, pulling them off. At the sight of him, her breath caught in her throat.
He moved between her legs, his eyes burning an intense silver. I need this now, she pleaded with him mentally.
She reached up, caressing his face. Slowly—painfully so—he pressed inside her, his gaze locked on hers. Pure rapture.
Their hips rocked in movement, and every thrust brought her soaring to a wild peak. They moved together, increasingly frenzied.
With each stroke, she clawed her hands further down his back, pulling him into her, her back arching. Softly, he groaned her name into her neck, and the sound sent shivers through her body.
Their bodies moved in rhythm, a frenzied symphony of gasps and moans—faces dampening, bodies glowing with heat. Every inch of her glowed with pleasure as she felt herself merge with him, until her control began to slip.
A cry tore from her throat, and she shuddered against him with sweet release.
Chapter 33
In the warm bath, Rosalind lay wrapped around Caine, listening to his beating heart. The smell of lavender filled the air. Caine’s chest rose and fell with long, slow breaths, and his hand rested on her hair.
Gently, she traced her fingertips over the faint scars on his chest, the pale white markings. Now she wanted to know the story of each tattoo, each tiny line of scar tissue. She touched the one above his smooth belly, where he’d been impaled on the stake, then moved on to the constellation of scars over his ribs.
“I know there are things you don’t want to tell me,” she ventured. “Like, everything to do with your relationship with my parents.” Or Stolas—she wouldn’t even mention the name. “But surely there are other things you can tell me.”
“Like what?”
“Like why you murdered the King and Queen of Maremount four hundred years ago.”
“Ah.” He sighed. “That.”
Her fingers found the circular scar just below his heart. “Is that a story you can tell me?”
“That was the first time I was imprisoned in Maremount.”
“What for?”
“You saw the succubus head on the fountain in front of the fortress—that was Erish’s sister. Maremount purged the city of incubi and succubi. Except, the queen had a taste for incubi. So her husband procured one for her, to keep her happy.”
Rosalind’s throat tightened. “Ah. You said demons were enslaved in Maremount.” She felt his heart beating beneath her fingertips. “But how could a human keep you as a slave? You’re more powerful than they are.”
“An iron collar, with spikes in my neck, chained to a bed. It drained most of my power.” His hand covered hers. “And, truthfully, I could have found my way out—except that she threatened to slaughter someone I loved.”
She felt her cheeks heat, and anger simmered on his behalf.
And underneath that anger, she couldn’t help but wonder who he’d loved.
“No wonder you murdered her.”
“I served her against my will for nearly a year, until I couldn’t take it anymore. I killed her and the king so neither could make good on their promise.”
“The promise to kill the person you loved.” Since he was opening up to her, she didn’t want to push him too far by asking who that person was, though she was desperate
to know.
“Exactly.”
“That must have been awful for you.”
He stared into the distance. “Well. I ended it. I had to slaughter my way free from the city, through a horde of royal guards. And do you know what? That’s when I learned I could get a thrill from something other than fucking.”
“Killing?”
“I’m quite good at it, as I’m sure you’ve seen.”
“Mmm. You’re good at a lot of things.” Her head rested on his damp shoulder. “Anyway, I’m glad you made it out safely.”
He traced his fingers through the water by her hips. “I left Maremount, and escaped to Lilinor, where I met Ambrose. And I brought with me… the people I needed to keep safe.”
“And that’s how you became known as the Ravener, the legendary monster of Maremount.”
“The children’s stories fail to mention the part about me being chained up as a love slave.”
Her fingers still covered the scar on his chest, and a twinge of guilt tightened her lungs. That scar had come from her. “Um, sorry about the time I stabbed you.”
His lips curled in a smile. “I think you’ve made up for it by now.”
Her brow furrowed. “Malphas insisted that the only way I could have stabbed you is if you’d let me. Because your incubus well had run dry, and you probably wanted to gain power through sex.”
“Malphas doesn’t know everything,” he grumbled. “Speaking of Malphas—what happened between the two of you when I was gone?”
Okay. He’s not letting this go. She straightened, looking him in the eyes. Droplets of water beaded over his golden skin.
“He was training me. I’ve worked my way through five of the hells. I have only one left—fire.” She swallowed hard. “He was wary of pushing me too far, because of Cleo. So he kept asking if I was okay. He asked if I could hear her voice.”
His body had gone tense. “And?”
“And I guess I was craving more power. I just needed to feel more of the gods-magic… We all knew there was a risk, that maybe humans weren’t meant to have this power.” She was babbling now, she realized. “I didn’t let Malphas realize how much Cleo was taking over.”
Blood Hunter (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 3) Page 20
