He inhaled, and her scent flooded his vampire nose. There was a trace of arousal there, but mostly he smelled fear. She was afraid. Of him. Mark started to pull back, stung.
“No,” Hope murmured against his mouth, and caught his head between her small hands. “Don’t leave me. Love me.”
“You’re afraid.” He could hear her heart hammering as he held her, and he knew it wasn’t from desire.
“So show me I have nothing to be afraid of.” Her eyes looked so deep and dark as she stared down into his. “Be my Mark. My sweet lover. My man.”
“Yes. . . . ” It was a whisper of surrender. He cupped one pretty breast. The nipple had drawn into a tight bud, red as a raspberry against her pale skin. Mark bent his head and licked it slowly. The taste of her flooded his brain, and he was suddenly nineteen again, Hope’s pert nipple in his mouth.
He remembered being an innocent, before the bloody nightmare of Afghanistan, before Stone’s evil had corrupted his brain. Suckling harder, he drank in the memory of loving her. His hands stroked down her smooth back, discovering toned muscle that hadn’t been there ten years ago. Her ass was perfect, round and tempting. He slid his fingers along her long, satin thighs, still kissing her, savoring the warm give of her lips. Impatience flared, and he lifted her, bearing her backward to the floor.
“Damn,” Mark murmured as he felt the chill of the concrete, “I wish we had a bed. Something soft for you.”
Hope smiled up at him, and he was relieved to see desire had replaced her fear. “I’d make love to you anywhere.”
He started to kiss her throat, but she flinched, and he caught the sudden scent of her blood. The Thirst rose and slapped him so hard, he had to stop and close his eyes to fight it.
When he’d shoved the red lust down again, Mark bent to find the full, creamy mounds of her breasts with their candied raspberry tips. Slowly, deliberately, he began to lick.
Mark laved Hope’s nipples in sweet flicks of delight so acute, it almost stung. She closed her eyes and let herself float in distilled honeyed pleasure. His weight pressed into her just enough as he supported himself on his elbows. His body felt hot, all hard-sculpted brawn, yet he held her so gently, the silken hair on his chest teased her skin like tiny feathers. I thought vampires were supposed to be cold. She quickly banished the thought, afraid to shatter the spell.
Reaching between her thighs, Mark found the jutting button of her clit with the ease of a man who knew his way around a woman’s body. She moaned as he strummed it, rolling her hips in helpless delight. He purred against her breast and suckled harder, fingers stroking skillful circles around her clit until need clenched and sizzled in her belly.
As the hunger grew, she forgot her fear, forgot everything but the elegant power of Mark’s long body, the warmth of his big hands, the skill of his mouth.
When he began to nibble his way down her torso, she groaned in hot anticipation. Alternating kisses and swirling strokes of his tongue, he teased her ruthlessly until she begged for him in breathless little whimpers.
Finally, Mark lowered his head between her thighs. The first wet lick of his tongue conjured a trembling bubble of exquisite delight between her thighs, pure and perfect. She let her legs fall apart, and he spread her wide.
Lifting his head, Mark gazed down at her in something like wonder. “You’re so pretty,” he said softly. “So delicate here.” A finger stroked the rim of her inner lips, and she squirmed. “Rosy and glistening, like a jungle orchid in the rain.”
“Poetry from a Marine.” She smiled down at his blond head. “Who’dve thunk it?”
He looked up at her, a flash of jungle green eyes. “I have hidden depths.” Looking down at her spread thighs, he added, “And so do you. Speaking of which. . . . ”
Mark bent his head again. The lazy swirl of his tongue sent another glittering flush of heat through her blood. She closed her eyes as he suckled and played. She could almost see lightning strikes of pleasure lancing through the darkness behind her eyelids.
“Do you want me?” he asked in a rough growl.
“Yes.” She slid her hands into his silken hair, closed her fingers into desperate fists. “God, yeah.”
He rolled off her onto his back, bracing on his elbows. “On top.” It was an order, stark with arousal.
Hope crawled over him as he spread his knees. His cock jutted, a rosy demanding thrust aimed at his chin. He angled the big shaft upward, and she came down over him.
“Been a long time,” she managed with a gasp as she wiggled, taking him in a slippery inch at a time.
“I noticed.” His smile was so feline, Hope could almost see the whiskers.
When she had him in to the balls, she settled against Mark’s warm chest with a sigh. He kissed her slowly, brushing his soft lips back and forth against her mouth.
Lying between a man’s legs was a new position for her, but she quickly saw the advantages as she rolled her hips in the tight quarters between his thighs. The friction of his cock felt delicious as his hips rolled against her clit, striking sparks of sweet heat every time she ground onto him.
They kissed lazily as she rode, tongues swirling, until the need grew so demanding she had to throw her head back and gasp. Close, so close. . . .
The orgasm hit her in a hard pulsing starbust, blinding her. She cried out as it went on and on, milking contractions deep inside her that made Mark stiffen. He threw back his head and roared, coming, spilling wet warmth into her body.
Together they soared.
* * * * *
When her brain started functioning again, Hope found herself sprawled across Mark’s brawny chest, panting helplessly as her heartbeat slowed.
Well, that was fun, a small voice said in the back of her mind. But it didn’t accomplish a damn thing to get us out of here.
Which was when she remembered Stone’s mocking smirk. “You know, all that blood just might give you the strength to escape.”
The plan burst into Hope’s consciousness as if some part of her had been mulling it over deep in her brain. Holding her breath, she turned it over in her mind, trying to consider all the angles. It was risky as hell, but it might also be the only way they could escape.
“Mark, what if you took some of my blood,” she said before her courage could desert her. “Not enough to make me lose consciousness, just a pint or two. Would that give you the strength to break that lock?”
His jaw dropped and he stared at her in sheer astonishment. She noticed his fangs seemed to have disappeared, as if they’d retracted while they were making love. “Oh, hell no! That’s a really bad idea.” He rolled her off him and surged to his feet as if wanting to get as far from her as possible.
“Is it?” Hope demanded coolly, rising to face him. “What do you think happens if we’re still in this cage when Stone comes back? What’s he going to do when he finds out you haven’t killed me?”
Mark raked an agitated hand through his tangled blond hair. “Hope. . . . ”
“I’ll tell you what’ll happen. He’ll jerk me out of this cage and do to me what he did to your sister.”
Mark winced. “Hope, you don’t understand. I’m not sure how much blood I’d have to drink to be able to open that door. And what if I start drinking and can’t stop? I could kill you, darlin’.”
“And what if you don’t?” Hope braced her fists on her bare hips. “Mark, I’m a cop. I’ve drawn down on gangbangers and chased an armed robber down Main Street doing a hundred miles an hour. This isn’t the first time I’ve risked my ass.”
He gave her a stubborn glare. “But I wasn’t the one you were risking it with.”
Hope sighed and raked her tangled hair out of her eyes. “Look, sometimes you’re left with no good choices, and you’ve got to go with the one you’ve got and pray it doesn’t blow up in your face. Stone said drinking my blood might give you the strength you need. I’m willing to take that chance.”
“I’m not!” This time she did see fangs in
his infuriated snarl.
“Would you’d rather watch Stone kill me? What if he decides to make me his slave? If I had to choose between Reverend Fangface and you, I know who I’d pick.”
Hope moved to meet him, keeping her gaze steady. He could probably hear her heartbeat. She wondered if he could smell the fear she was working so hard to keep off her face. Extending her wrist to him, Hope gave Mark her best cool, challenging look.
“If you can get us out of here, we’ll grab the detonator and run like hell. We’ll wait out in the woods for him to come home. If you’re right, he’ll have the girl with him he’s planning to kill tonight. You can distract him while I rescue her. If you can get him to go in the house, we can blow it up—with both of us far enough away not to die. Cue little birds tweeting for our happy ever after.”
A muscle rolled in his broad jaw. “Sounds like my part of the plan is a little thin. He’s my Master, remember? How the hell am I supposed to fight him when he can rape my mind?”
Hope didn’t look away, though it was a damned good point. “Why doesn’t he know about the bombs, Mark? Because if he’d known, he’d have piled them on that table and mocked us with them.”
“I made sure he didn’t find out. Hid them.” Mark frowned. “I don’t really know how.”
“Yeah, I figured as much. I think you’re stronger than you think you are. And I think he’s weaker. You did say he was a young vampire who needs you to augment his power. Just how old is he?”
Mark shrugged. “Only a few years. From what I saw in his memories, the vampire that turned him was decapitated when he skidded his car under an eighteen wheeler. Stone survived because he ducked in time.” His frown grew thoughtful. “Maybe you’re right.”
She grinned recklessly. “It’s worth a try.”
“Don’t give me that smirk. You’re scared shitless.”
“It’s still better than the alternative.” Hope thrust her arm at him again.
Mark hesitated a long moment before he took her hand in his. He bent his head to the thin skin of her wrist.
Hope swallowed as her mouth went dust dry.
Chapter Six
Hope’s skin felt like sun-warmed silk against his fingertips, traced with thin blue veins. She smelled of sex, a dark, erotic musk that made Mark’s fangs throb and his cock rise. The Thirst urged him to bite hard into her delicate skin, to gulp down her precious blood, sate the savage need that had clawed at him for days.
No! he told himself fiercely. I am not going to hurt her.
Mark looked up and met her amber eyes, gaze steady with trust. And he damned well wasn’t going to betray her.
Bending his head, he touched the points of his fangs to her wrist, pressing just hard enough to break the skin. Carefully, he drew his teeth across her skin, inflicting a pair of precise, shallow cuts. Hope made no sound, though he knew they had to sting.
Blood rose to the surface, beading on her wrist like a pair of ruby bracelets. Controlling himself ruthlessly, Mark pressed his mouth to the cuts.
The taste of her hit him like a freight train. Since becoming a vampire, the flavor of blood had changed from metallic and faintly nauseating to seductive, dark and sweet on his tongue. It was like drinking some expensive liqueur that made his head buzz with euphoria. Strength flooded his body with every swallow.
Fingers brushed the line of his jaw, and he jerked, startled, looking up to meet Hope’s gaze over her delicate wrist. She stroked her free hand up his temple and through his curling hair. Her fearless gaze locked with his, drawing him out of the Thirst.
He was drinking from Hope. He couldn’t afford to forget that.
Eyes locked with hers, Mark suckled slowly, cradling her graceful hand. She stepped against him, until he could feel the warm line of her body all along his, naked and smooth and soft. The mounds of those pretty breasts with their rosy tips pressed against his chest, and the soft, dark curls of her sex teased his erect cock. Gently, she rolled her hips against him as she stroked her free hand down his body, exploring the muscles of his arm, the ridges of his ribs, the curve of his ass.
His cock was brick hard now, sandwiched deliciously between their bodies, teased by the slow roll of her hips. Sensual hunger lapped against his awareness, a lazy counterpart to the Thirst that kept urging him to bite, to drink more, drink faster.
Drain her, the Thirst whispered in demon temptation. Take her. She left you. She hurt you so bad you plunged into hell to escape the memory. All those tours of duty, all the fear and loneliness. She did that to you. You owe her nothing.
No, he told it, and sought her warm honey gaze. Rays of gold shot through the velvety brown of her irises, hypnotic under her sable brows. Her eyes pulled at him with a kind of sensual gravity as he drank. Pulling his thoughts to hers until he could feel her, his fierce warrior woman, so strong, so determined to defend the helpless and avenge the victims.
I love you. The thought rang in his consciousness, but it wasn’t his. Somehow a connection had formed between them as he drank, just as Stone had earlier invaded his mind. But where that had been an ugly conquest, violent and rending, Hope’s mental touch was gentle as a whisper on his cheek.
How did you do that? he asked.
Actually, I think you did it, and I have no idea how, she told him silently. He could feel the steady strength of her love binding them together. I only know that I don’t want to lose you. Not to Stone, and not to your thirst. I want us to be together.
And I want to be with you. I love you. That pure truth burst through the Thirst like a bullet, giving him the strength to shove the dark craving back. Though the beast in him howled, he lifted his mouth from the cuts his fangs had scraped across her skin. The bleeding slowed and stopped far faster than it should.
Suddenly anxious, Mark stared at her over the hand he still held. “Are you all right? Did I take too much?”
“I don’t think so.” Hope sank back against the bars, bracing herself upright. “But I wish there was a chair in here. I’m feeling a little dizzy.” Her knees buckled, and he caught her just before she hit the floor. “Okay, make that a lot dizzy.”
Mark lowered her to the cement and urged her to bend her knees, the best they could do to keep blood moving to her brain.
“Get us out of here,” she managed. “And I’ll feel a hell of a lot better.”
But as he turned toward the door, he sensed something on the edge of his consciousness, a menacing presence that moved closer with a slither. What are you doing, boy? What have you done n– The thought cut off as Mark threw up every mental barrier he had, concentrating grimly to keep Stone out of his thoughts.
What the hell was that? Hope’s clear mental voice rang in his mind, contrasting starkly with the vampire’s evil.
“It’s Stone,” Mark told her. “He sensed something. He’s coming.”
They had to get out of here now. Adrenalin surged through him, and he stalked over to grab the door right above the lock.
* * * * *
Hope rose on one elbow to watch as Mark planted his bare feet and wrapped his big hands around the bars.
Muscle worked and rolled in his broad back and powerful arms, and his thighs bulged as he fought the door. Even as dizzy and sick from blood loss as she was, Hope felt a warm female tingle of pure desire.
“Dammit,” he snarled, and shifted his grip on the bars. The whole cage shook and rattled as he threw his full weight against the bars, hauling so hard sweat broke out on his shoulders. The veins of his arms stood in high relief, roping over bulging tendons and surging muscle.
He roared, a savage bellow of determination and rage.
Steel grated as the lock’s tongue sheared off, and the door sprang open, almost dumping Mark on his delectable ass. Staggering back, he let the door go, flexing his fists as if to restore the circulation in his fingers.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.” Mark lifted her to her feet.
“Clothes,” Hope protested before he could dra
g her out of the cell. “I need my clothes!”
Given her dizzy weakness, it took them both to get her dressed in her jeans, shirt and shoes. Under the circumstances, she didn’t bother with underwear.
Dressed again, Hope pulled away from Mark’s supporting hands and walked to the table to collect her gear. She put on her belt and tucked the Glock into its holster on her hip. Her badge, handcuffs and the ball point pen/detonator went into various pockets.
Hope swayed as she turned on shaking legs, then yelped in surprise as Mark swept her into his arms and took the stairs two at a time. “I can walk!” she protested.
“Only if you want to fall on your ass.”
They burst out into the living room with its doilies and cabbage rose upholstery. “Pants,” she managed breathlessly. “You need pants.”
Mark glowered down into her eyes in frustration. “Where the hell do you think I’m gonna find pants in this mausoleum?”
“You want to fight him with your naughty bits dangling?”
“Good point.” He put her down on the couch and headed up the stairway that led to the second floor. A few minutes later, he trotted back down in ratty loafers and a pair of sweat pants that barely reached his ankles. They were so thin and tight they might as well have been sprayed on, and Hope enjoyed the view shamelessly.
“Are those Stone’s?” she demanded.
“Don’t think so,” he said, scooping her easily into his arms. “I found them packed in a box. Probably belonged to the former owner.”
“You mean the old lady? Not likely.”
“Okay, then her husband.”
She hooked her arms around his neck as he headed out the broken front door. “So what now?”
Hope's Kiss Page 4
