Cross Your Heart: A Broken Heart Novel

by Michele Bardsley

  “Well, you know your father kept the library and study just as he left them. They’re practically museums. I can’t recall the last time anyone even went into them. I keep them clean, of course,” she said, as though we might accuse her of not performing her duties, “but your parents claimed the east wing of the house. They rarely bother with rooms in the west wing. You know they’re in Europe until the end of the month?”

  I nodded. “It seems they spend more time out of the country than in it.”

  Martha waved away my concern. “They’re just enjoying their lives, honey. They always thought the moon and the stars hung on each other. Do you want to stay in your old room, or would you prefer another? And where will Mr. Jones be sleeping?”

  “With her,” said Tez.

  Martha tried for stern, but that twinkle in her eyes got in the way. Getting Martha’s approval was not an easy thing; the fact that Tez had garnered it so easily took me aback. Did everyone think we were destined soul mates? For goodness sake!

  “Put us in a room as close to the library and study as possible,” I said. “Isn’t there one with a four-poster with those curtains you can pull shut?” I vaguely recalled such a bed in the west wing. Like my parents, I had rarely ventured to the that side of the house. Most of my explorations had been when I was six or seven years old. In any case, I had to consider that since my family was unaware of my undead state, I would have to take precautions with my sleeping arrangements.

  “Yes, yes,” said Martha. “That’s your grandfather’s old room. It’s right between the library and the study. In fact, I think they all connect. The linens go through a weekly washing, even though no one has slept in that bed in forever.”

  “So there are curtains still on the four-poster?” I asked.

  “Just bought new red velvet ones,” said Martha. “Your father insists we keep the rooms as close to the originals as possible.

  “Sounds bawdy. I like it already,” said Tez. He scooped up our bags before Martha could lay a finger on them. “Show us the way.”

  After Martha fussed about putting away our things and turning down the bed, she led us into the library. Floor-to-ceiling shelves covered every inch of the wall space, save for the huge marble fireplace. The furniture was big and dark and masculine. It had the faint odor of lemon polish. Two massive wingbacks sat before the fireplace, to the right of which was my grandfather’s ornate desk. Everything was in order on it, including its inkwell and pen set, a globe on the corner, and a box that once held my grandfather’s beloved cigars. It was as if my grandfather had stepped out of the room just for a moment, instead of being dead for more than two decades.

  “We’ll probably be up the whole night,” I said. “Do you mind if we sleep in?”

  Martha slanted a look at Tez, who winked at her. She smiled widely. Martha said that if we planned to stay up all night poking through the past (and her expression said she didn’t believe that explanation for a minute), she would bring us a fresh pot of coffee. She also mentioned lemon cake—so you know Tez was interested.

  Since I was no longer within Broken Heart’s borders, I couldn’t eat or drink human food. Then I realized I’d forgotten to do something very important before leaving town. I’d completely forgotten to drop by the donor’s house.

  “Oh, dear.”

  Tez stopped perusing the photos lined across the mantel of the fireplace. “There’s a picture of Amelia Earhart,” he said. “And Charlie Chaplin.” He looked at me. “What?”

  “I need my pint,” I said. I showed my fangs.

  “Shit. I forgot to take you by your donor.” He tapped the side of his neck. “Take some of mine.”

  “You’re a shifter,” I said. “It’s forbidden.”

  “Well, would you like to ask Martha?” he said. Sarcasm tinged his words. “Or maybe you prefer snacking on one of your neighbors?”

  “Don’t get snippy,” I said. “We could always go to the Knights Inn. Phoebe and Connor keep donors on staff there.”

  “Or you could just drink from me,” he said.

  Vampires needed live, circulating blood from humans. We could live off animals when necessary, but it was only a temporary measure. Animal blood did not provide the same kind of sustenance. Drinking shifter blood was dangerous—no doubt why drinking it was forbidden. Still, I abhorred the idea of tracking down an innocent animal, which I’d never done, as much as drinking from some random human’s neck and exercising my glamour, which I hardly ever use.

  “We’ve only got a few hours left. You really wanna waste a couple of them driving across town to the Knights Inn to get a suitable snack? Five minutes,” he said, tapping his neck again, “and we’ll be able to spend our time more productively.”

  He had a point. And a pint.

  “Look, Ellie Bee. You’re my girl. I don’t want you fanging some other guy’s neck anyway. Don’t mates gnaw on each other?”

  “Almost exclusively,” I said. “But all the mates I know are actual vampires. I’ve never known a vampire to marry a pure shifter. Most shifters have to stay with their own kind.” I gave him a knowing look.

  He rolled his eyes. “Me being a jaguar doesn’t make me king of the cats, all right?” He glanced at the door. Like me, he heard Martha’s steps coming down the hallway. She was humming a song I didn’t recognize. Cups rattled on a tray. Tez pinned me with his stare. “You want me to hold her down while you take your pint?”

  “Absolutely not!” No matter how hungry I was, I wouldn’t betray Martha’s trust by taking her blood. My glamour could remove the memory of the experience from her, but never from me. I wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye again. Well, it looked like it was Tez or nothing. I supposed that indulging this one time would be all right. “Fine. I’ll drink from you.”

  Martha opened the door and brought in a tray with a French press, two coffee cups, and an entire plate of lemon-cake slices. She arranged it on the table between the wingbacks.

  “Do you need anything else?” she asked.

  “This is perfect, Martha,” I said. “Thank you so much.”

  She said her good-nights and left us to our work. Tez wasted no time scooping up a slice of cake. He munched it down in three bites and sighed contentedly. “No offense, princess, but I think I might have to marry Martha.”

  I laughed. “You’d have to fight my mother for her—and, frankly, I don’t think you would win.”

  “Yeah, well. Probably not.”

  He crossed to the desk, where I was examining my grandfather’s things, and took my hand. He led me to one of the wingbacks; then he sat down and pulled me onto his lap. “Okay, princess,” he said. “Bite me.”

  Chapter 13

  I was hungry, and decided that if Tez wanted to be my meal, who was I to complain? I sat sideways on his lap, loosely putting my arms around his shoulders. He obligingly tilted his neck, and I easily found the carotid artery.

  I sank my fangs into his flesh, and began to drink.

  He had an exotic taste, one that flowed into me like the finest champagne. He moaned, and I felt his hand creep under my shirt and cup my breast. His essence granted me the facade of life. I felt tingling warmth spread through me, and when he gently tweaked my nipple, pleasure arrowed straight to my core.

  The act of feeding could be erotic, for me and for my donor. It was something I always thought I controlled. Yet, I had never felt this way—so responsive to each touch, so greedy for the pulsing life spilling into my mouth. For the first time, I understood the necessity of the hundred-year-binding magic.

  I wanted Tez in the most primal way.

  I knew I had gone past my pint and that, too, was a red flag that I was losing control. Vampires could certainly attempt to drain a body—and though they might not succeed, the rush of power and magic in the overindulgence could destroy morals. It was why the soulless of our kind, the droch fola, often killed their victims. Like I said, blood drinking could become an addiction. An uncontrolled vampire was a very
, very dangerous one.

  I managed to pry my fangs from Tez’s neck. I felt the hard length of his shaft press against my thigh and I wiggled one of my hands between us so I could stroke it through his jeans. I licked my way up his neck, peppering kisses along his jaw.

  He growled.

  Literally.

  I reared back and saw that his eyes had taken on an animalistic quality—the irises, diamond-shaped, and the color, a much richer gold. Here was the jaguar threatening me. But I wasn’t afraid.

  Tez grabbed my hair and brought me in for a punishing kiss. He didn’t seem to care that his blood coated my tongue, or that I had little mastery of my impulse to take him. His hunger for me, his primal actions, brought forth within me something ancient and dark.

  When he tumbled to the floor with me and ripped off my dress and bra in one fell swoop, I repaid the kindness. He nuzzled my breasts, sucking my nipples until they were hard, aching peaks. His hands were everywhere on my bared flesh, and eventually they found their way to my panties.

  He shredded my lace thong.

  Awareness rippled through me, a whisper of caution. “Tez. Please.” I didn’t know if I was protesting or begging.

  “I want to be inside you,” he said, his voice husky. “I want to fuck you.”

  His coarse language unexpectedly inspired another shocking wave of lust. I couldn’t believe I wanted him to speak that way to me, that it made me want to open my legs and let him take me.

  “I can’t.” His fingers stroked my clitoris and I lost my ability to speak for a moment. “We can’t.”

  “I know.” He lightly bit my neck. “Goddamnit, I know.”

  I worked his jeans free, and he helped me unsheathe his large cock. I didn’t know what I planned to do with it. I couldn’t use it the way I truly wanted—not unless I wanted to bind Tez to me for a century. And no matter what he said, what he believed, it was not the right thing to do.

  But Tez was undeterred by our consummation problem. I was so wet that it was easy for him to slide his cock between my labia. Every thrust rubbed my clit, causing a storm of sensation that clouded my mind, and my judgment. I wrapped my legs around him and dug my nails into his shoulders.

  He scraped his teeth across my breast, all the way to my turgid nipple. His lips clamped over the peak and he sucked it, hard. The pleasure-pain spiraled through me, and I felt the wave of orgasm crest . . . and then I fell over into the sensations of light and heat and bliss.

  Tez released my nipple and rose up, increasing his pace. “You feel so good, Elizabeth. Oh, God. You’re gonna make me come.” He groaned, his expression going tight, and then he stilled, his hot seed splashing onto my stomach.

  He was breathing hard, and I too might have been had I the use of my lungs. I looked down and saw that his cock was still rock hard. I glanced up at him and saw that his expression was still predatory and his eyes still had their animal shape.

  “It’s a perk of being a shifter,” he said. He bared his teeth at me. “How many ways do you think we can fuck without actually fucking?”

  I swallowed the knot in my throat. I wasn’t worried because I was afraid of this new Tez; I was worried because I liked the dangerous side of him. Because I wanted him to talk dirty to me and pleasure me in every way possible, and . . . Oh, dear—I was very much losing my mind.

  His grin was razor sharp. “You like it when I say fuck.”

  “I most certainly do not. That would be . . . uncouth.”

  “Well, then. Let’s test out my theory.” He took his torn shirt and used it to clean off my stomach. Then he flipped me over. “Hands and knees, princess.”

  “I think we’ve pushed our luck enough,” I said from the floor. “I don’t think we should continue this . . . this sexual madness.”

  “Oh, we’re not. This is a scientific experiment.” He patted my buttocks. “Up and at ’em.”

  I really should’ve been more reluctant, but I’m afraid the adjective that applied here was “eager.” I got to my hands and knees, and Tez took position behind me. He slid his cock between my thighs; his thick length once again teased apart my labia and settled hard and hot against my clitoris.

  “This is scientific?” I scoffed.

  “Yep. See, I’m gonna hold your hips, and keep my cock right where it is. No movement.”

  “Oh,” I said, somewhat disappointed. “I see.”

  “I’m not going to touch you anywhere else, either. But I am gonna talk.”

  “And, do forgive me, the point of this endeavor is what?”

  “Let’s find out, princess.” His hands tightened on my waist, and he made sure his length was pressed tightly against me. “Close your legs some. Keep me tucked against that tight little pussy.”

  I gasped. “Tez!”

  He laughed and patted my bottom. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

  I closed my legs as much as I could until Tez was pulled snug against me, his cock cradled within the confines of my thighs. I had to admit, it felt rather good.

  “You’re a very beautiful woman,” said Tez quietly. “Your skin is so soft. You smell like flowers. Your hair feels like silk. I love touching you, kissing you, being with you. I want to be gentle with you, but I’m too greedy for you, Elizabeth. I want to take you like the animal I am. I want to fuck you.”

  Shock zigzagged through me, a direct shot to my . . . well, you know.

  “You’re wet,” he said. “Wet for me. One day, Elizabeth, I’m going to take you. I’m going to bend you over, just like this, and slide my cock deep inside you. I’m going to fuck you over and over, until you’re coming on my cock, until you’re screaming my name.”

  Every word created a rush of feeling straight to the spot where his cock was so deliciously pressed against me. I felt hot and tight and expectant.

  “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Tell me how you want it.”

  For a moment, the words wouldn’t issue forth. Then I whispered, “Hard.” I easily imagined Tez behind me, slipping his shaft deeply inside, so deep it stretched me and filled me, and then he would plunge his big cock into me over and over.

  I moaned.

  “Are you imagining me fucking you, Elizabeth?”

  I swallowed the knot in my throat. “Please,” I said. “Please.”

  “Princess.” He leaned forward and kissed my spine. Then he began to move, rubbing his cock against me until I screamed with pleasure, pleasure he created just by saying those highly inappropriate but—oh, so deliciously—naughty words. My fingers clawed at the floor as my second orgasm exploded. It took me a minute, or five, to get my thoughts unscrambled.

  How could I ever give up this man?

  In that moment, I was sorely tempted to give in to my need, and to his. But did I really want to risk his future? Even for us, a shifter and a vampire, a hundred years was a very long time. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t think I’d be able to live with myself if I truly took away his choice.

  Tez moved back, slipping away from me. I turned and sat at his feet. He joined me on the floor, and cupped my face. “You’re the one, Elizabeth.”

  “I know you think so.”

  “I’ve made my choice. You just have to make yours.” He kissed me. “But I hope until you make up your mind, we can do a lot more of this.” His finger reached down and swiped my clit. He was so bawdy.

  And I loved it.

  “Yes,” I said. “I do believe we can accommodate each other.”

  “That vocabulary of yours,” he said. “Maybe next time you can dress up as the English professor and I’ll be her naughty student.”

  I smiled. “How do you feel about being . . . punished?”

  “Seriously? I’m so gonna marry you.”

  We took fifteen minutes to clean up our clothing mess. I couldn’t regret the loss of my wrap dress. I’d never had my clothes ripped off before. It had been exhilarating.

  We took showers. Separately. Other
wise, we would’ve never accomplished what we set out to do. I donned my black nightie, which hit me at mid-thigh and had a plunging neckline—too distracting. I dug through Tez’s duffel and grabbed a pair of his sweats and an old concert T-shirt. I rolled the waistband of the sweats up because they were too big; the shirt almost fell to my knees.

  “‘KISS’?” I asked, pointing to the painted faces of the seventies’ phenom. “Really?”

  “KISS rocks,” said Tez. “You look good in my shirt. You don’t really need the pants.”

  “If we’re going to do any actual research, then yes, I do.”

  He was wearing a pair of sweats, too, but nothing else—and I was having a hard time looking away from his muscled chest. His skin was the color of caramel latte, and I wanted to lick him. He was probably walking around shirtless because he knew I would be tempted.

  In fact, our sexual romp had moved us up a relationship level. Neither Tez nor I hesitated to show our affection, whether it was a touch as we walked past each other, a quick kiss, or just a tender look. Granted, Tez didn’t exactly show restraint in holding my hand or putting his arm around me before we made love. I was the one who hesitated to display affection.

  We settled down to poke and prod through the library.

  I started with the desk, and Tez started at the far end of the library, working his way through the shelves.

  “Most of these are first editions,” he said. “And the subjects are eclectic as hell. Darwin is next to a book about spiritualism. And there’s a biography of John Up-dike next to a hardback about early Hollywood.”

  “My grandfather had varied interests,” I said. “He invested in Oklahoma oil fields, sponsored archaeological digs in Egypt, and gave scholarships to women to attend college—in the 1920s. He was a very progressive man.”

  “If we’re lucky, he was also a man who hedged his bets. He seems likely to keep information, especially if he needed to protect his family.”

  “He wouldn’t have been the one to commit the crime,” I said, admitting what I had been trying not to think about. “His father, Jeremiah, built the Silverstone mansion. My grandfather lived there with his brother Josiah until their father passed away. Then my grandfather moved to Tulsa, got married, and built this house.”