by Jackie Ivie
Eska lurched against him. Gasped.
“I guess we shall have to do this your way.”
“My...way?” Was that husky-toned whisper actually her?
“Ah, yes. Definitely your way. With licking.”
He dropped his chin, moved her slightly, and licked a moist line up her throat, lifting a line of shivers the entire way. Without conscious thought, Eska released the hold she’d placed on her reactions. Her fangs elongated. Her senses tingled. Cries of pleasure accompanied it, softly at first, but his every movement gave them stridency. And volume.
“Oh, Eska. Eska. Lovely Eska.”
His fingers found the zipper at her back, and he started releasing it. So slowly! With studied precision. The sound of each zipper tooth added to the whorl of sound she could sense about them. He finally finished. Her dress gaped open. But then he totally surprised her.
Eska found herself standing, weaving in place as he set her on her feet. As she watched, he stepped back from her. One step. Another. A third. This was senseless. He didn’t look displeased. Or disinterested. Quite the opposite. A film of moisture skimmed his skin. Every muscle looked tensed. His steps were accompanied by huge breaths, taken in cadence with her. He was stopped by the footboard of her bed. Ended up crouched slightly forward, watching her with eyes that glowed violet again.
And he was clearly aroused.
Massively.
“Um. Henry?”
He grunted.
“I don’t understand. What’s...wrong?”
“I have an objective to achieve. Remember?”
“An...objective?” She should be irate. Irritated. At the very least, insulted. But nothing on her body obeyed. She was humming with anticipation. Alive with expectancy. Eager yet confused. It was a frustrating combination. His words didn’t help.
“We’re slowing things down. Not because I want to. Let’s get that clear. But because it’s absolutely necessary. So. You need more help?”
He ended with a question. It took a moment to answer.
“With what?”
“The unveiling.”
Unveiling?
“We’ve got all night, Eska. And this is...one of my favorite parts.”
“Unveiling?”
“Clothing can hide all manner of things. I have found that expectations are one thing. Reality is another. It’s really nice when they match. Rare. But...nice.”
Oddly, she blushed. All manner of pleasure flooded her. It was probably visual. Her glance skittered to the white-covered bed behind him. Back. “Oh. I see.”
“Well?”
He waved a hand. She smiled and reached for one shoulder of her gown.
Eska was tall for her village. Especially toned. That came from her lifestyle as well as her father’s heritage. She was unique. She’d never appreciated it as much as right now. She peeled the dress down. Stepped out of it. Other than a swift intake of breath, Henry didn’t react. She wore barely-there, smoke-colored lace panties. A demi-cup bra. She wasn’t especially buxom, but knew how to showcase what she had. The garters holding up her lace-topped stockings were a match.
“Well?”
“Well. What?” His voice was a gruff chunk of sound.
She snapped one of the garters against her thigh. There was a saucy note to her reply. She couldn’t help it. “Does the reality meet your expectations?”
“You’re making this very difficult.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I am trying to slow this down, Eska!”
“That’s not an answer, either.”
“Fine. You are a goddess. All right? I thought so when I first saw you. Nothing about that opinion has changed.”
“A goddess?” She slid a step toward him. “I don’t recall ever being called that.”
He straightened to his full height. “Sounds like you set your sights too low.”
“Are you trying to offend me?”
“I’m just thinking aloud, sweetheart.”
The way he said the endearment cancelled out any loving meaning. Eska smiled to herself. It sounded like he was trying to drive a wedge between them by using words. Poor man. He was going to fail.
Oh! This was such fun!
“You are obviously a woman who has her pick,” he continued. “The reality you’ve uncovered just makes it official. So...if you’ve never heard anyone call you a goddess before, either you’re bottom feeding, or you’re drawn to individuals with vision problems. That makes it a real mystery as to why you picked me. Unless you have another option to offer?”
She took another step toward him. He leaned backward as if to escape her approach, placing an incredible amount of definition to his array of abs. She nearly sighed with appreciation of the view. The man was better formed than a bronze Grecian statue. And he wondered why she picked him?
“You don’t know much about vampires, do you?” she asked softy.
“Enough to stay away from them.”
She giggled. Took another step. She was closing in. He was within reach. His only option seemed to be to wait for that to happen. Unless he catapulted up onto the mattress behind him.
“True,” she agreed. “The undead ones are...rather soulless.”
“You’re one of them.”
She shook her head. “Not anymore.”
“Excuse me?”
“There is one thing that brings a vampire to life, Henry. Do you know what it is?”
“Yeah. They find their mate.” His eyes went huge. He sucked in a large breath. Expletives came out before the rest of his words. “Oh, no. Hell no. No way, lady. I am not your mate. No way.”
She smiled and took another shaky step to him. He was so close. She could feel the waves of heat emanating from him. Shivers roved her skin, visually lifting bumps. Her breasts even swelled, rising above the demi-cups. She was so glad she’d chosen this attire!
And then he reacted, turning his head away to spew words. “Bloody hell! I could have been gone from this nightmare! I cannot believe I acted so recklessly!” He took several deep breaths that she matched. “No. Stop, P.H. Think. This is not possible. Regardless of everything that has transpired, you are not a vampire’s mate!”
“Who is P.H.?” Eska asked.
He turned his attention back to her, his face at perfect ease. No sign of anger. “Oh. Eska. Yeah. Sorry. Forgive my outburst. I rarely lose my temper.”
“Just as you rarely profane?” She couldn’t resist teasing.
“Yeah. Exactly like that. Shit! This is just complete shit.”
“What is?”
He ran a hand over his face. Shook his head. Focused on something over her shoulder as he answered. “I am not your mate. You are mistaken. Your conclusion is totally wrong. Inconceivable. Unthinkable. Completely ludicrous. On every level. Trust me.”
“Is it?”
“Never in a million years! If you only knew—! Ah!”
He drew back and gave a loud enraged bellow. It hovered in the room for long moments. Then he lowered his chin and just stood there, glaring at her. She didn’t know what it portended, but his eyes were blood red again. And his fang tips looked longer.
“Knew what?” she prompted.
“I am not your mate, Eska,” he replied in a tight voice. “You are mistaken.”
She lifted a hand toward him. He flinched, but didn’t move. “I knew the moment I touched you,” she told him.
“Oh, no. No. You have the wrong man. Sorry. But...no. Absolutely. Completely. Totally. No. Never. Ever.”
“What can I say to convince you?”
He spat another expletive. Then stopped. It looked like he had his teeth clenched. A nerve in his jaw twitched. “Look. We have to regroup, all right?”
“Regroup?”
“This is way more than I agreed to. I have to think. This is heavy. There are consequences. There has to be options.”
She extended her finger to just above the start of the line of hair that disappeared beneath his
waistband. And held it there. He was rigid. Shaking. His abs pounded with the force of their mutual heartbeats. And something else. Her lips twisted as she observed it. He may be spouting negatives, but his body wasn’t a match. His erection pulsed against the confines of his undergarment as she watched.
She tipped her chin up, slid her glance to him. Waited until he looked at her. Locked gazes. Felt her heart stutter. And then something really weird happened. The sharp tips of his fangs retracted. As if he had control of them already. It didn’t seem possible. Her canines were elongated and sharp, vibrating with need. She didn’t know how Henry managed it. Maybe being half-turned was the reason.
“Are you going to...renege?” she asked.
“What do you think?” He snarled.
And then he grabbed her.
CHAPTER TEN
Paul Henry had been called astute. Shrewd. Aloof. Non-emotional. A few ex-girlfriends had given him worse names. According to his nannies, he’d been born with this personality. Everyone along the line of his upbringing had agreed. He didn’t care. He had a destiny to fulfill. Success was the primary goal, everything else secondary. In his viewpoint, leaders didn’t have time for weaknesses. That included emotion. Remorse. And they didn’t vacillate. Decisions were made and, if necessary, altered. They weren’t discarded and changed and then re-made on a whim. Yet, the moment he’d met Eska, he’d been going back and forth like a see-saw. It had to stop. He knew exactly how to do it, too. It was part of his nature, despite appearances to the contrary.
Facts.
Focus.
Paul Henry was extremely good at compartmentalizing. Everything could be catalogued and put into perspective. That included interactions with the opposite sex. His life was already scripted. There was barely room in it for an eventual wife, and none whatsoever for this.
He was not Eska’s mate. She was mistaken. As far as he was concerned, if a vampire fancied him as her mate, then that was her problem. Just as he’d told her earlier, he had one objective tonight – her sexual satisfaction. And then he was leaving.
Decision made.
Yet again.
Her bed was large. Firm. Bouncy. Good thing, since he launched backward onto it with her in his arms. The structure groaned. Rocked. Then settled into place. All of it failing to mask any of Eska’s perfection. She was impossibly flawless. Her skin felt like satin. Warmed. Pristine. He couldn’t even spot a freckle. Her size was another bit of rightness. Paul Henry had gained several inches of height and a lot of muscle in college. Some at the family estate commented on his continuing growth with pride. He’d been secretly pleased as well. Height was an asset in any business situation. Six foot two was an optimum height. Anything over that - a bonus. And he could well afford new clothing with longer inseams, bigger chest measurements, and wider neck widths.
Right now, his extra growth was a decided plus. Eska was a tall woman. They fit as though designed with that purpose in mind. Her breasts pressed to his pecs. Her hips aligned with his. A kiss within easy reach.
Oh. He’d been right.
Perfect.
Eska had a spectacular bosom, too. Paul Henry unclasped her brassiere within moments of landing, placed a hand to her back so they could roll, positioning her beneath him. Her bra settled uselessly across her. Paul Henry shoved the lace-bedecked garment aside, scooped up one perfect breast, lifted it for delectation, lowered his head to her nipple...and tasted. She jerked the moment he licked, the move lifting them several inches. The mattress rocked with their return.
“Oh, Henry. Henry. Oh, my. My. My!”
Her voice went through a range of tones and octaves as his tongue found her nipple again. This time he suckled, huffed his amusement at her cries, all done amidst a lot of squirming. Her enjoyment added a dimension he’d never experienced. It altered things. It may even affect his brain chemistry...
Or something worse.
His canines experienced a tingling sensation. He concentrated. Focused. And it worked. A swift check with his tongue proved it. Fang growth was controllable. But it wasn’t easy.
He released his hold on her breast, moved his hand down her belly, across velvety skin that trembled beneath his fingers. She wore little lacy panties. The side strap tore without a hint of effort. It might as well be paper. His breath caught. Hers matched. And then his fingers found her center. Touched her nub. Started vibrating.
Eska caught a gasp. And shot upward.
Her outcry filled the chamber with sound. Tremors ruptured through them, while her lurches lifted them higher. But that wasn’t the strangest part. A stab of something truly gratifying shot through Paul Henry, bringing a stinging sensation to his eyes. It was swift. Undeniable. Incredibly alien. Gone almost the moment he felt it.
Careful, Paul Henry.
This Eska had a lot in her arsenal and each weapon was more devastating. His canines tingled warningly again. He set his jaw, locked his mind, focused, and somehow forced the teeth into abeyance again. It took every ounce of will at his command to do it, too.
He was shuddering with effort as her cry ended. Barely felt their drift back down. The mattress swayed. The bedstead creaked.
“Oh, Henry. Oh, my. Henry. That was—. Oh, Henry.”
Her voice trembled. Her tone worshipped. But it grated on his ears. He knew why. The name was wrong. He was frowning as his fingers started moving again. Faster this time. More intently. And, when he had her nearing another peak, he slid two fingers into her cavern.
Oh.
Wow.
She was hot. Wet. And so tight. Her breath raced. So did his. Hers was accompanied by the sweetest moans. He was grunting. And this time, it wasn’t a cry erupting from her throat. It was louder. Higher-pitched. And went on for a long time. Her lunging lifted them again, too, this time so high the ascent stopped only when they bumped against the ceiling.
The sound faded. Her features calmed. Her eyes opened. She looked at him in disbelief for a moment. And then she lowered her lashes, sucked her lower lip into her mouth, and smiled. It was the most beatific expression he’d ever witnessed.
A rush of pleasure smacked him with a force that stunned. Paul Henry’s heart leapt into his throat, affecting breathing, and there the damned thing stayed, pounding away for long moments, before finally subsiding. He’d never experienced anything like it. His face probably reflected it. He was in luck she wasn’t looking. Because if she’d seen...?
He didn’t finish the thought. It was pointless. He already had this episode assigned. It was not a love tryst. It was a necessity. A chore. Done in order to gain his freedom. He wouldn’t allow anything to change that deduction. He couldn’t. Not if he wanted to return to sanity. Normalcy. Real life.
They floated back to the mattress. The landing was so soft he’d have missed it if his limbs hadn’t brushed against the coverlet.
“Oh, Henry. Oh, my. That was. Oh...Henry.”
The words carried an awed note, but they grated worse. He reacted instantly. “It’s Paul Henry,” he informed her.
Oh, my bloody hell!
Had he lost his mind? And why wasn’t there any notice before it happened? You didn’t give the enemy ammunition like this!
Oh, shit.
Shit.
As he watched, her fangs grew longer, the tips slipping well past her bottom lip. His heart stopped. Frost grabbed his veins. His pulse hammered against his skull with the force of a smithy striking an anvil. Paul Henry was statue-still. Every muscle locked. In the back of his mind it penetrated that this was not what he’d envisioned for a last moment on the planet. He shouldn’t be wrapped in an aura of provocation. Skin-to-skin with a siren of sensual delight. His fingers in the most intimate of contacts. His body and emotions astir with all sorts of foreign things...like passion. Intensity.
Extreme arousal.
She took her time looking back toward him. Caught his gaze. A shudder scored him that he instantly staunched and then conquered. Any reaction was stupid. It didn’t mat
ter if he wasn’t prepared. There wasn’t any way to accomplish that. She could rip his throat out. Slam his heart into arrhythmia. Drain his every drop of blood.
She had the vampiric powers here.
He’d be lucky to give her a decent challenge.
Her smile came again, wider this time. Much less timid. Her dark eyes twinkled with an expression he couldn’t identify. She looked pleased.
And that was truly scary.
Eska licked her lips, catching his glance for a moment on her fangs.
Oh, damn. Those things looked lethal. Paul Henry steeled himself for a death blow.
“Paul Henry.”
She purred his name. He blinked several times in quick succession. Stared. Cleared his throat to answer. Thought better of it. Settled with giving a single nod.
“Now, that is a sexy name. It definitely fits you, too.”
She didn’t know the name?
Oh.
Balls.
He’d been told how it felt to dodge a bullet. Narrowly escape. Get a second chance. Those descriptions were all completely inadequate. What might be intense relief warred with a tsunami of other emotions. Hard steel engulfed by a hurricane of feathers. A wall of ice melting against a firestorm. He’d never felt such a mix of sensations. The level alone was frightening. It pulled him in every direction at once, yet nothing showed.
How was that even possible?
“Paul Henry. Paul Henry. Oh. How perfect. Paul Henry. Paul Henry. Paul Henry. Mmm. Paul Henry.”
She stirred against his fingers with each repetition of his name, the sound, so sweet! Her actions even sweeter. Paul Henry automatically moved his fingers again. Deeper. Faster. His heart ramped up again. His breathing quickened. And his canine teeth throbbed as though royally aggravated. He tried to force them back into submission. Mind over matter. Same as before. It didn’t work.
What in the blazes?
His body was an enemy now, too? Why was everything backfiring?
Why?
Unanswerable questions flew through his brain and then dissipated, lost somewhere in the ozone. His fangs elongated. Sharpened. A touch of his tongue to them proved both. He tried harder.
