So am I.
I came to save him, couldn't wait to see him again. Now, I’m uncomfortable. Can he tell how much I've changed? I’m no longer the human female he first saw; I am more. I’m different now, something I’m yet coming to terms with.
A growl rumbles up from the lion, who lowers his neck. Taking a few steps back, Ethan covers the distance with enough speed to allow him to hop onto the shifter's back.
Kris hands up the still unconscious Rohan. As soon as Ethan has hold of him, Cain tosses his head in farewell. After turning, he takes off toward the pier.
The devil jerks his head at me, indicating I should lead the way. In response, I slide Ruby's sword into its scabbard and hand it over to him.
All the while, I avoid his eyes and pretend I can't see his jaw harden, a vein throbbing at this temple.
Tension radiates from him.
Pausing only to swing the scabbard over his shoulder, he follows without another word.
We retrace our steps through the trees and down the slope. As we reach the beach, we hear yells in the distance. I pick up my pace, and so does Kris.
Reaching the beach, I dive into the waves, not waiting to see if he follows me. I reach the boat first and clamber aboard. Kris follows.
A shout from the shore has me looking up to see a figure dive into the waves, followed by another.
The vampires are almost at us.
Reaching the wheel, Kris starts up the boat and takes off.
When I walk up to him, he steps aside.
He's as Alpha as they come, yet he lets me steer this boat. If he notices my surprise, he doesn't react.
Instead, he brushes his fingers against my shoulder. I shiver. The wind against my wet skin makes the goose bumps spring up.
It doesn't stop me from taking a step to the side, just enough that it puts me out of his reach.
Once he realizes what I have become, he may not want me anymore.
Pushing the thoughts from my head, I glance behind me in time to see him bring his sword down. A scream is cut off abruptly as he slices through the vampire who's swum up to the boat. Then raising the blade, he plunges it through the second, who's halfway clambered onto the boat. He pulls it out, slashes; I hear the second body hitting the water.
Walking toward me, he takes off his wet shirt, using it to wipe the blade clean before sheathing it and swinging the scabbard over his back.
The slash on his cheek is already healing. Right now, the scar only adds to his lethal appearance. His biceps ripple with muscles; and over his right shoulder, the beginnings of a tattoo curl over to run down his back.
He's even more defined than I thought, leaner too. He's lost weight in just the few days Noah had him.
A long, half-healed cut mars his chest. I want to reach out and touch him, to run my finger down the line that demarcates his pecs. I want to lick up the blood drops that linger on his chest.
No!
I curl my fingers around the wheel, gripping it tight.
"You're hurt," I say.
"The wounds aren't too deep. In a few hours they'll have faded completely."
For a few more minutes, we ride in silence. The sun bounces off the sea waves. The scent of salt and fish and, below that, the woodsy smell of him teases my nerves.
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" he finally asks.
"Nothing," I say, striving to keep my voice casual. "Nothing's wrong."
30
Kris
The witch had burst into that room and taken on Noah; if something had happened to her, if she'd been hurt...A pulse of panic twists my gut. I force myself to calm down. To clamp down the naked fear that has the dominance pushing itself to the fore.
She takes a step away, another, trying to put more distance between us.
And that just frustrates me.
"You're such a bad liar," I say, voice soft. "You've been avoiding me since Ethan and Cain left with Rohan."
"No, I'm not!" she denies. But she still doesn't look at me, instead turning her head to look at the broken bridge between the islands of the city that’s just come into view.
That's when my control snaps. Leaning forward, I cut the motor.
"Hey!" she protests in the sudden silence that follows.
But when I walk toward her, she jerks away, running to the other side of the boat. A haunted look on her face twists my heart. It's so at odds with the fiery fighter I know that I stop and hold up my hands in a gesture meant to placate.
"What is it, baby?" I ask, keeping my voice soft. "I’m not going to jump you. Not unless you want me to, of course."
That unexpected attempt at humor gets her attention. She shoots me a glance over her shoulder, and I can't stop my lips drawing back in the semblance of a smile.
"You just cracked a joke?" she asks, trying to hide her shock and failing. "In all the time I've known you, you've always been—"
"Angry? Brooding?" I run my fingers through my hair before dropping my hand to my side, feeling a flush of red stain my cheeks. A first. But if I must crawl to make her feel more at ease, so be it.
"Irritable and petulant were the words I was going for," she retorts, folding her arms over her chest. At least she's talking to me now. My breath rushes out in a sigh of relief.
"I deserve it." I take a cautious step forward. But my canny witch sees through me.
"You trying to soften me up?" She half laughs, even as her lips begin to tremble.
Her misery reaches out to me, and that rips me apart. I want to go to her and take her into my arms to shield her from the world, to protect her, to tell her she'll never come to any harm, not when I am around.
"Talk to me, baby," I plead. “I can't bear to see you like this. Tell me what's tearing you apart."
"You think you can fix anything, macho male?" Swearing, she turns away. I can see her digging her nails into her arms. She's hurting herself.
A gust of breeze sways the boat just then; and when she shivers, I can't stop myself. I walk to her and brace myself on the deck, standing behind her. Making sure not to touch her, I use my body to shield her from the wind. And that's when she goes still.
"Noah…did he hurt you when he held you prisoner?" she asks in a low voice. Her concern for me is a sign that she still trusts me. Something clenched inside relaxes then. If she'd moved away, it would have shattered me.
"I'll live," I say. Then, unable to stop myself, I ask, "Are you angry with me?"
She gives a shake of her head, but she doesn't speak.
"Tell me, Tara," I cajole. "Let me help you, the way you helped me understand my own feelings."
"You can't help me," she says. "No one can." This time the words are torn out of her and the hurt and anger in them tugs at me. I can't stop myself from placing my hands on her shoulders and turning her around.
To my relief, she meets my eyes, turns the full impact of those green eyes on me. The look in them mirrors the intensity in mine. Whatever is eating away at her from the inside, I need to ease it, help her through whatever emotional agony she’s in.
Yet the finely tuned warrior part of me that's always on alert realizes the sea around me has turned choppy. There are storm clouds gathering in the distance. I need to get us out of the water and to dry land as soon as possible. But first I must find out what's troubling her so much. My eyes alight on her face before dropping to her neck. That's when I notice the scars that mar her smooth, creamy skin. Rage twists my gut; my control shatters, and I feel the carefully veiled dominance roar to the fore.
31
Tara
I want to cover myself, to cover the scars from the vampire's attack. I heal much faster than I did as a human; normal wounds would fade without a mark. But not these scars, for they are from the fangs of the vampire who transformed me.
I was sure the he'd be repelled by what he saw. Nothing prepares me for the fury that darkens his features. "The bastard marked you," he snarls. Reaching out, as if he can’t stop himself, he t
ouches the scars. "I'll never let anyone hurt you again," he swears.
"It's too late." The words escape before I can stop them. I try to pull away, but he won't let me. His grip firms, and he holds me in place. "I'm different now."
"No, you're not," he insists. "You're Tara, the woman who drives me crazy with want."
A pulse of frustration twists my gut. I bare my teeth. Pin-pricks of pleasure-pain ripple through me as I let my fangs drop. "There. Satisfied?" I snarl. "I’m a vampire, ruled by reason and logic. One who needs to prey on psychic emotions to survive."
Those blue eyes crackle with an anguish that seems to be eating him from inside. "You’re mistaken," he snarls. "Did you think that I'd hate you because you've transformed. That I'd abandon you when you need me most?” The torment fades from his eyes, replaced by a deep longing. “Can't you see? It doesn't matter to me what you are on the outside. It's you, what's inside you, the essence of you that I love." Reaching out, he places his palm face down in the center of my chest. "It's you, Tara, that I want. Just you."
The breath leaves me in a rush. I look into his eyes and see the sincerity in them…and more. Anger, hurt, and arousal deepen the blue until they almost seem violet. The heat from him curls around me and pulls me in, seductive, comforting. I want him, want to be held by him, want to lean on him and confess how frightened I really am by what I am becoming.
The last of my defenses crumble. I can't fight the devil, not when he's like this. Not when he's showing me a side of him I never knew he had. When he's caring for me, comforting me.
"Don't mess with my head, not now." My voice trembles, and I hate myself for how weak I must seem to him.
But the devil just gathers me close. "I've never been more serious in my entire life."
32
Kris
A shudder runs through her.
Under my palm, her muscles stretch, tense and unyielding.
I can feel her hurt, her confusion, as if it were my own. Over my chest, the psychic bond pulses with the need to reach out to her.
I want to soothe away her fears, to protect her, to make her strong and confident again. I want back the witch who entranced me with her fiery nature.
I know what I must do. Leaning away from her, I bring my wrist up to her nose. Her nostrils flare as she scents my skin, the blood pulsing through my veins.
"What are you doing?" she cries, voice harsh and trembling with fear. Below that is a need so acute it pulls at my nerves.
"Drink," I say. "After that fight with Noah, you must be running low on psychic essence, and drinking from me is the fastest way to restore your supply. I bet you haven't drawn from anyone else since you changed." I make sure to infuse enough command in my voice, enough to get a reaction out of her.
"Oh Yeah? You think you know me that well?" Her eyebrows draw down. Green eyes crackle with the lash of anger, that feistiness I know so well.
There you are.
"I do," I say, watching with delight as her eyes narrow in irritation. I know how to get to her. "Besides, I won't let you drink from anyone else," I add in a soft voice. "Bite me. You know you want to," I insist.
"You can't make me." She sets her jaw in that stubborn angle I know so well.
"You know better than to challenge me," I say. Then before she can respond, I bend down and lick her lower lip. When she parts her lips in surprise, I take full advantage. I'm sneaky that way. I slide my tongue in, tasting her. That sweet honey-caramel taste of her fills my mouth. In contrast, her scent, that tangy smell of green apples, sinks into my skin.
Mistake.
I tried to anger her, seduce her into losing her fears, her inhibitions. I wanted to peel back the layers of confusion to reveal that feisty, confident female I know she is. I hadn't counted on losing myself, drowning in her taste, the sensations only she can evoke in me. I'd forgotten that with her, I am the one who is hunted. From the second she laid eyes on me, I was hers. I was the one who never accepted it, who ran from her.
No more.
The realization shudders through me, pulsing with a clarity so true that I freeze. I wrench my mouth from her with such speed that bits of spittle still join our lips.
Her tongue flicks out to lick her lips. Eyes heavy with desire lift to mine. Perhaps she even senses my thoughts, for her hand snakes out to grab my hair. She yanks my head to the side, exposing my neck.
"You're right," she says. "I'll never drink of anyone else's psychic essence."
33
Tara
He'd poured himself into that kiss, had shared his very life, his soul, in that kiss. By pushing his essence into me during the vampire attack, he'd already given me a taste of that wild passion and trust that is the flavor of his psychic essence.
Just a taste, all tinged with that peppery woodsmoke and pine that is so very Kris, is all it took. Now I’m addicted. I want more. I can't let him go, not now, not when he looks at me with that mix of lust and arousal and disbelief. I won’t let go, knowing he wants me, that he cares for me. He'd even die for me.
Yanking his head to the side, I bury my teeth in the side of his throat.
And then there's no me, no him. There’s no vampire or human or Ascendant. I push aside all barriers and go straight to his source. His essence, his soul, his blood, pours through me. And on its heels, a white-hot arousal slams into me.
The need I felt since I first saw him, the one I thought I'd hidden away since, breaks through all barriers I've clamped over it.
When I raise my head, blood trickles down his neck.
"They'll scar," I say. "Even with your healing powers, these marks won't fade." I hear the grim satisfaction in my voice.
Only then do I realize what I've done. I marked him. Does he realize I already claimed him?
Molten heat throbs through me, a raging hunger that licks my veins. I want more, much more.
The heat from him bleeds into me, tugging at me.
I'm not aware of raising my hands to his chest, of my nails digging into his skin. I want to bury myself in him.
Just like that, the last barrier between us falls away. It's as if he, too, recognizes that there's no turning back now.
All my senses pop, the world now in glorious color in all its multilayered hues. As a human, everything had been flat, two-dimensional. My transformation has sensitized me to him even more.
I’d smelled the woodsy scent of him before, but I never sensed that dark edgy musk that curled there just below the surface.
I’d felt the roughness of his skin, but now as I run my fingers over his chest, the ripple of each individual hair sends a shiver up my skin.
The heat from him slams me to him and makes me want to sink my teeth into him again, biting him.
Damn!
I want him. I want to fill my senses with that psychic essence of him, to draw his light into me. I understand, now, why vampires are such sexual creatures. The pull of his light and energy, combined with the raw physical need that hammers away in my gut drives me half out of my head with desire.
Unable to say anything, not sure how to even put what I am feeling into words, I reach up and touch his mouth. His lips close around my finger tip, and when he sucks on it, the sensations zoom straight to my core, tugging on the raw hunger that lurks there. And it's as if he feels it too, for the sparks in those blue eyes ignite.
Mad with wanting, I stand up on tiptoe and slurp at his lips.
A shudder runs down his spine. His hand grip my hips, pulling me close enough so I can feel his arousal. Then his mouth is on mine, his tongue thrusting inside. With one hand squeezing my hip, he pulls my legs apart with the other.
Then he slides his fingers under my shorts, pushing aside my panties. He thrusts his finger inside me, so sudden and yet so intimate that white-hot pleasure pours down my spine. I'm sure I scream. I can't hear myself, though, for the blood is pumping in my ears, my heart racing as his mouth devours mine.
I am dimly aware of a crack of thunder, o
r perhaps it's my pulse beating in my ears, I can't be sure. For just then, a second finger joins the first, filling me up even more. Then he's moving his fingers in and out, and again. The friction of his skin sliding against the most intimate part of me sends a jolt of molten desire throbbing through me.
When he slides his fingers out, I protest, the sound coming out a breathy thread of noise I can't recognize as my own. My eyes flutter open in time to see him lick his fingers. And that sends another pulse of longing through me.
"How do I taste?" I can't stop myself from asking.
"Like cinnamon and salt, and wild fire. You taste...like you," he says.
His voice is deep and gravelly, as if it comes from the part of him he's held back from the world. The part he's showing me—only me. Not the woman he lost. No one else but me. And it's those softly spoken words that send me over the edge. A need to get closer to him has me reaching for his lips again. But my devil just smiles, a knowing look on his face, for he's just getting started.
Sliding down my body, his hands hold me upright, hold my hips captive. And then he bites my nipple through my T-shirt in a way that sends heat and sensation radiating out from my center. That's when I catch fire.
I groan, but the sound is torn apart by the rising wind. A flash of lightning light the sky in the distance. Or perhaps it's just my desire fighting to get loose.
My devil, though, has more presence of mind. He tears his mouth from me, only to brush his lips over mine, his gaze gone silvery with need. One hand still holds my hip, holding me up. His fist clenches at his side, yet his touch is gentle.
Only then do I realize that it's raining down on us.
"Don't stop," I gasp. "Not now."
"I need to get us to land before the sea gets too rough," he says, placing his palm against my cheek. "You okay?" he asks, voice rough with restraint. "I swore to be gentle, but I never can control myself with you." His lips twist in a self-depreciating smile.
Claimed: Paranormal Romance (Immortals, Vampires and Shifters) (Many Lives Book 4) Page 12
