Taming the Vampire: A Paranormal Romance Novella

by Chloe Hart

  She should have been insulted, since that was obviously his intent. But she felt an odd rush of pleasure to find that—physically, at least—she could inspire something other than revulsion in Jack Morgan.

  “Enough talk,” he said suddenly. “The sooner we get this over with the sooner you can go after the Kraken. That is what tonight’s about, right?”

  “Of course!”

  “Well, then. Instead of standing there staring, why don’t you get down here and help?”

  She stared at him blankly. “Help?”

  He grabbed her wrist, jerking her off her feet. She fell on her knees beside him, their faces inches apart, her hand still gripped in his.

  “Go on,” he said softly. Moving slowly now, his eyes never leaving hers, he guided her hand until her fingertips brushed against the bulge she’d seen pushing against his jeans.

  It was pure instinct that made her mold her palm against him and grip hard. He gasped, a sound she’d never heard him make before.

  “Sorry,” she said quickly, starting to pull her hand away. He grabbed her wrist and drew her back again.

  “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “That felt good. Now keep going.”

  She glanced up at him again, searching his face for the disgust or contempt she had seen there so often.

  It wasn’t there. He was looking at her with a kind of focused intensity, but without any hatred that she could see. She looked down at the fly on his jeans, and her fingers fumbled just a little as she began to undo it.

  He was balanced on the edge of a knife. Christ, she was beautiful. Her witch black hair shone like silk in the candlelight as she worked the button loose and then, thank God, the zipper was down and her cheeks went pink when she realized he wasn’t wearing anything under his jeans.

  He had to force his hands to stay at his sides.

  He knew then he’d wanted Liz Marlowe from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. He’d been lying to himself for the last year and a half. Now as she lowered his zipper and freed his cock, the force of his desire wiped everything else away. He’d never again be able to hide the truth from himself, but he prayed he could still hide it from her.

  She looked up at him for...permission? Hoping that was it he nodded yes, anything you want, especially if it meant touching him again.

  And then she was touching him, her hand hotter than a fever against his cool skin, and he forced himself to stay still so she wouldn’t startle away again. She was so close, so close, her scent sweeter than flowers, cleaner than rain.

  “I guess you’re ready,” she said suddenly, looking up at him.

  Was she kidding? He’d never been more ready for anything in his life.

  “Yeah,” was all he managed, hoping she’d make the next move, because he was hanging on to his self-control by a thread and if he made a move it would be to throw her down on her back and—

  She cleared her throat. “Okay, then. Here we go.”

  He waited.

  “Uh...Liz?”

  “What?” she whispered, still frozen in place.

  “Sweetheart, you have to...do something here. Make a move. Unless you want me to—”

  “No!” she said quickly, and he knew that the warrior in her feared giving up control more than anything else. She would have to do this on her terms.

  “All right, then, but this isn’t going to happen without—”

  “I know that! I’m not an idiot!”

  He sensed her heart racing, but that was fear, not desire. She felt nothing of what he felt. He was a fool to think she might.

  Still, he didn’t want her to be afraid of him. Of this.

  “There’s nothing to be scared of,” he said softly. He reached a hand towards the side of her face, just wanting to soothe her, to reassure her, to—

  “Don’t touch me,” she cried, slapping his hand away. She was trembling all over. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said. “I hate you. I don’t want you touching me, you—you thing. I hate you!”

  For one second they stared at each other. Then Jack reached down and pulled up his zipper.

  He stumbled to his feet and went for the door. He had to get out of here before he started another fight with this bitch—one that wouldn’t end in a stalemate.

  Chapter Five

  It took Liz a split second to realize what she’d done—and what the consequences could be.

  She sprang up and ran in front of Jack, standing facing him with her back to the door. He stared at her in disbelief. “What do you think you’re doing? Do you want me to hurt you? What you said back there—it’s what we call an exit line. So get the hell out of my way before I go right through you.”

  She couldn’t let him leave. The knowledge that he was about two seconds away from doing just that made her words tumble over each other. “We have to finish the ritual. We have to! I’m sorry I said what I did. Neither of us wants to do this but we have to, Jack! It’s our best chance to kill the Kraken!”

  Cold rage was in his eyes. “I’d rather let the Kraken slaughter this entire city than stay here with you one more second.”

  She winced. “Okay, I deserve that. I’ll say I’m sorry again if you want but please, Jack, you can’t leave!”

  “Was it a lie?”

  She stared at him. “What?”

  He stepped closer to her. “Was it a lie?”

  “I...”

  “You said you were sorry. Why should you be sorry if it was the truth? Do you hate me or don’t you?”

  She laughed a little shakily. “It’s not the kind of thing you say to someone you’re about to have sex with. I shouldn’t have said it. Not then, anyway.”

  His eyes were boring into hers. “I see. So you’re sorry because it was bad manners, not because it was a lie?”

  “Jack, I don’t know what you want me to say. We’ve always hated each other. Haven’t we? But we have to go through with this. We have to.”

  He came even closer, only inches away now, and she wanted to get away, to run, except that she was the one keeping him here.

  “I’ll stay on one condition,” he said.

  Her heart thumped against her ribs. “What?”

  “We’ll do the ritual, but on my terms.”

  She wished he wasn’t so tall. It gave him an unfair advantage, being able to tower over her like this. It was hard to breathe, hard to—

  “What do you mean, your terms?”

  “Do you want to know a secret?”

  Her blood was rushing in her ears. She couldn’t speak.

  He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her hard against him. She gasped, as shocked as if she’d stepped into icy water. She felt his erection, she felt his strength, and for a second her own power seemed to desert her. He bent his head close to hers. “I want you,” he whispered.

  Her face flamed, like a teenager’s.

  “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you,” he went on, still whispering, but now his cool lips were on her throat, at her pulse point, against her collar bone.

  She opened her mouth but no words came out. Her eyes closed and her head went back, and he was kissing his way back up her throat, to her ear, and then he was whispering to her again.

  “I can make you feel good, Liz. Better than anyone’s ever made you feel.”

  Her hands clutched at his shoulders, but whether to push him away or pull him closer she had no idea.

  Then his hands, deliciously cold, were sliding under her tee shirt, under her cotton bra, and she couldn’t stop herself from moaning and pushing herself into him.

  He pushed her bra out of the way and laid his hands on her breasts. His touch was soft, hypnotic, and all her consciousness was focused there, on his thumbs brushing over her again and again, until suddenly he pinched her nipples hard and her knees gave way as she let out a strangled cry of pleasure.

  He caught her under the arms and lifted her up again, but before he could start another assault on her senses Liz put her hands against hi
s chest. “Wait!” she panted. “Please, Jack...it’s not a fair fight.”

  He watched her with a crooked smile as she tugged her bra back into place. “I hate to break it to you, Liz, but we’re not actually fighting. I know it’s been a while since that night in the alley, but you don’t remember it being like this, do you?”

  Her knees still felt weak, so she fisted her hands in his shirt for something to hang on to. “All I know is fighting,” she said. “Especially with you. When it was just hate I knew where I stood. I knew what to do. But now, this...it’s like you’re using a weapon I can’t defend against.”

  Her back was against the door, and now he put his hands on either side of her, leaning in close.

  “Look at me, Liz.” As if she could have looked anywhere else. “You don’t have to be a warrior all the time,” he said. “Just lay down your arms for this one hour. Both of us will. When tomorrow comes, things can go back exactly the way they were, if that’s what you want.”

  Lay down her arms. She was frightened at how much she wanted to do that. To stop being a warrior, just for a little while.

  It was hard to focus with him so near. “I don’t know if we have an hour. I mean...the spell only lasts for one night. If we’re going to finish the ritual we should do it fast.”

  He brought his mouth to her ear again. “I can make you come in five minutes.”

  And then she felt his hand on her thigh, just under the hem of her skirt.

  She froze into stillness, holding her breath. His hand slid up her bare leg, under the skirt, and her body felt hollow, insubstantial, held to the earth by the touch of his hand alone, moving slowly along her fevered skin, cold vampire flesh moving towards the core of her heat. He paused for the barest second, and then covered her mound with his palm.

  Her body spasmed. He massaged her firmly, and Liz bit her lips to keep from moaning.

  “Please, sweetheart...let me in...”

  Never in her life had Liz given up on a fight, but she gave up on that one almost before it began. “Yes...anything...God, Jack, anything you want...”

  He kissed her neck and smiled against her skin. His fingers were moving now, stroking her curls. She was wet already but now she felt a flood of moisture from her core, and she knew he could feel it too.

  He traced her outer folds with his fingertips. “You want this, don’t you?” he whispered.

  “Yes...” she breathed, eyes closed. His fingers dipped a little deeper, teasing at the sensitive skin until she felt dizzy. She’d never wanted anything like she wanted those cold fingers inside of her.

  “So hot, so wet...you’re drenching me, Liz. What am I going to do with you? What is it you need?”

  “You,” she gasped, starting to writhe against him, trying to get him to—

  “Where do you need me?”

  “Inside! Please, Jack...need you inside...”

  His mouth had been at her ear, making her quiver with his whispered words. Now he kissed her on the mouth for the first time, roughly, and thrust two icy fingers deep into her channel.

  His kiss muffled the cry that escaped her. The feel of him was better than she’d imagined—like nothing she’d imagined. His thumb settled over her throbbing clitoris as he pumped his fingers slowly, making her spiral higher and higher but not giving her enough to send her over the edge.

  Any semblance of self-control was gone. Her tongue tangled frantically with his. Her body was thrusting against his fingers, her back arching as she tried to urge him deeper.

  He broke the kiss. “Look at me,” he ordered, and her eyes snapped open to meet his. “I’ve got two fingers inside you, kitten. You want another?”

  “Yes!” Her whole body was aching, desperate for more.

  “But you’re so tight...” he murmured, his thumb rubbing lazy, agonizing circles. “I don’t think you can take any more.”

  “I can...God, Jack, please...”

  His voice turned rough. “Has anyone else made you feel like this?”

  Liz stared at him, panting. No one had ever come close to making her feel like this. Her whole body burned, vibrated, hummed with desire. But to say that out loud...to him...

  He pulled his fingers out of her and pinched her clitoris, and she gasped.

  “Tell me,” he ordered.

  “No! No one...not like this...”

  He added a third finger and buried them as deep as they would go.

  She cried out and thrashed wildly, throwing her head back as she hung on to his shoulders for dear life. He was twisting his fingers inside her now, curling them, hitting a little bundle of nerves she hadn’t known existed. And now his thumb was moving fast and hard, bringing her a pleasure so intense it was close to pain. She was almost maddened with sensation, spinning so high off the ground she was afraid the crash would kill her.

  Then he pulled out to deliver a quick, sharp slap to her clitoris before thrusting inside her one more time.

  “Oh God...oh God!” Her head fell forward and she bit down, hard, to keep from screaming as the explosion came, shattering her into a thousand pieces.

  From far, far away she heard Jack calling her name as she bit deeper, tasting cotton but feeling his flesh beneath. She was falling, falling, but he was there to catch her, his strong arms helping her sink gently to the ground, wrapping her up tightly as she came down from an orgasm she thought deserved to have another name, to distinguish it from other, lesser orgasms.

  Chapter Six

  Hours might have gone by, or days. His fingers were still buried inside Liz’s heat, feeling every aftershock that pulsed through her body, and her teeth were buried in his shoulder. The pleasure of that pain called to his most primal instincts, but it was surprisingly easy to hold the demon at bay.

  He would have stayed like that forever if it was up to him. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply. She used a shampoo that smelled like strawberries.

  Her body stilled, and very gently he pulled his fingers out of her and stroked her softly instead. She gave a little murmur of pleasure, and then froze.

  “Oh my God,” she said, jerking away. “I...I’m sorry,” she said, staring at his shoulder. He glanced down, and saw the impression of her teeth on his cotton shirt.

  “Sorry for biting a vampire? That’s an apology you never have to make, princess.”

  He’d called her that before, with sarcastic contempt. Now he heard the difference in his own voice, the caressing tone that turned the word into an endearment, and wished he could take it back. Soft words from him would only freak Liz out. He forced himself not to tighten his hold, even when he felt her tense up in his arms.

  Every nerve in his body was attuned to her. He felt the push and pull within her, and all he could do was wait.

  Finally she rested her forehead against his chest with a sigh.

  “This is weird,” he heard her say, and relief flooded through him.

  “A little,” he admitted. “But it’s only for one night. And it doesn’t have to change anything.”

  “So...you still hate me?” she asked, her words muffled against his chest.

  “You bet,” he said, his arms tightening around her. “I hate your guts, Liz Marlowe.”

  She hesitated a moment. Then her arms slid around his waist as she turned her head slightly, pressing her cheek against his breastbone.

  “Tell me how much you hate me,” she said, and he let himself stroke her hair as he’d wanted to do from the time he’d met her. It was softer than silk against his fingers.

  “I hate you with every bone in my body,” he said firmly, and now he shifted his hold, sliding one arm behind her shoulders and the other under her knees, standing up with her cradled against his chest.

  “Hey!” she protested, but her arms went around his neck as she looked up at him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’m damned if we’re going to finish that ritual on the cold floor when you’ve got to have a bed around here somewhere. Over there,
maybe?” he suggested, walking towards the closed door at the other end of the room.

  “No,” she said quickly. “I don’t want to go in there. It’s too messy. I don’t—”

  He ignored her protests and opened the door, blinking a moment as he looked around the room, dimly lit by the bedside lamp.

  “Wow, you weren’t kidding,” he said. “This is a pigsty.”

  “I hate you, Jack,” she said, but she didn’t fight him as he carried her over to the bed, piled high with laundry.

  “I know you do,” he answered as he swept the laundry onto the floor and laid her gently in the center of the queen-sized bed. “Tell me how much you hate me, Liz.”

  He knelt beside her and stripped off his shirt.

  “I hate you...a lot,” she said breathlessly, but her arms were reaching towards him, and then she was running her hands ran over his bare chest.

  He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, wondering why no woman, mortal or immortal, had ever affected him like this one did.

  “I wish I had time to do this right,” he whispered. “I’d make you come until you don’t know your own name. I’d make you belong to me.”

  He’d gone too far, he realized as the words left his mouth. Not just because he’d made Liz tense up again but because he’d called to his own demon, the part of him that couldn’t separate love from possession.

  Love?

  When had the word love come into this? Fear swept through him—the same fear that was sweeping through Liz.

  But he wasn’t going to let it stop him. He moved quickly to strip off his jeans, dropping them onto the floor. He was naked now. Vulnerable.

  Liz was still tense. He couldn’t take the words back, but...

  “It’s just for one night,” he reminded her. He grasped the hem of her skirt but didn’t tug it downward yet. “We can do anything we want...pretend anything we want.”

  He just needed to find a way past her defenses, a way to make it safe for her to trust him. “Don’t you get tired of being strong all the time?”

  She wanted to give in. He could feel it.