by Selena Blake
She tightened her grip on his hair as he sucked the nub into his mouth. He sent his left hand down her flat stomach. Her hips rolled toward him, begging for his touch. He smiled against her skin and then closed his teeth gently over her nipple. He lifted his head until she gasped. She cursed softly and he let go, pleased that he could still pull that sound from her lips.
Her body seemed to come alive then, coiling, shifting, arcing toward him.
He cupped her mound and her thighs fell open. So she was as eager as he was... He should use that knowledge to his advantage, tease her until she begged him, tempt her until she caved, and torment the delicate flesh between her legs until she agreed to become his wife.
As her legs gave him access, her hips lifted and she made soft, needy sounds in the back of her throat. Her pale skin was exactly as he remembered, so smooth and beautiful in the dark of night. The urge to taste her, to suckle her until she coated his tongue was too strong to resist. It'd been too long, far too long.
Without a second to lose, he slid the fabric of her swimsuit to the side. He wasn't going to give her a moment to change her mind. Silky moisture already covered her lower lips. So she was just as turned on as he was; good.
He kissed his way down her torso.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was breathless and a little shocked.
“Something I should have done two centuries ago,” he murmured. He would start by tasting her, and then he'd slide deep, thrust them both into exhaustion and then he'd plant his seed so deep she'd be bound to him completely, wholly, once and for all. Not just spiritually, she would be his physically, she would carry his child and from now until the end of time, a part of them would be joined.
Chapter Eight
Dameon thanked his vampire sight for letting him see each lovely detail so well. Though there was only the softest moonlight filtering through the curtains, he saw the delicate folds of flesh before him plump under his gaze. Her clitoris stood out, pushing against the delicate flap of skin as if it wanted his attention.
Oh, I'll give it to you, petite.
Ever so gently, so slowly it would make her wonder, he stroked a finger down the hardened nub and further south still, right over her slit. Then he did it again, watching closely as her labia flushed and quivered for his touch.
That's right. Quiver with anticipation, he sent the thought into her mind.
She made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat and shimmied her hips. The invitation was obvious but he was enjoying his playtime too much. In many ways he'd taken their time for granted and although he knew every detail by heart, every crevice, every indentation and divot, mound and curve, he had never taken as much time as he should have. He'd never just laid there and studied her so intimately.
Valencia though, obviously, wanted more. She thrust her pelvis at him but it was a vain attempt. He pulled his finger back so she couldn't use it to impale herself. He'd dreamt about this for far too long to let her have her way. He needed her good and ready, absolutely desperate for him.
Moisture seeped from her channel, coating the tip of his finger.
“Val-dear,” he murmured and she lifted her head. He gave his finger a slow lick, eyes locked with hers. “You taste divine.”
Her eyes rolled back and she collapsed against the mattress. A breathy “please” left her lips, seemed to float around them like smoke.
There it was. Neediness.
This time as he stroked down the hood of her clit to her slit, he pressed deeper, sinking his finger into her wetness.
“More,” she begged; her voice harder, edgier now. Her ruby red fingernails poked into the soft white sheets next to her hips. Gods she was gorgeous as her body inched toward orgasm.
He ducked his head and let his breath fan across her pussy. Another gasp met his ears. She smelled delicious, feminine, salty, musky and somehow sweet all at the same time.
“Say my name,” he urged, slipping his finger all the way in before twisting it on the way out.
Her body tensed and he knew that he'd said the wrong thing, demanded the wrong thing. He'd thrown her out of the moment. But before she could move, decide to end their tryst, he closed his lips over her and thrust his tongue deep. She cried out and speared her fingers into his hair again.
He licked and probed until she was wiggling beneath him like a fish on a hook. Palms against her thighs, he pushed her legs wider, betting on the flexibility that'd made her a beautiful ballerina a century ago.
Spread wide before him, he pulled back for a moment to enjoy the display. So beautiful. Shameless and erotic. His cock ached to fill her, to carry them both to the brink and drive them over the edge but he could see that thoughts started to swirl through her mind again.
He sank his middle finger into her slickness and then suckled her clit. Her breathy cries filled his ears and his heart soared. She was his. He was hers. He wasn't going to let her get away.
He sucked harder and a raw scream filled the air. The delicate inner walls of her channel clamped down on his finger as she came. Her thighs closed as she twisted beneath him, the thrusts of her hips slowing as she slid down the other side of her climax.
Her nipples were hard little pebbles at the end of delicately heaving breasts. A flush colored her pale torso and she gently bit down on the side of her hand to stifle her moans.
“Don't,” he commanded. “Don't ever hide yourself or those sounds from me.”
She let out a slow breath and removed her hand. He saw the droplet of blood on her lower lip. Dieu, she'd bitten herself. The red pearl called to him like a siren and he was on top of her in an instant.
His quickness startled her and her wide eyes met his. But he quickly refocused on her lips, on the ruby red blood there. Her tongue snaked between her lips before he could have the honor.
Did she remember? Did she still dream about the night he'd promised to take her all the way; to take her blood as they made love? Did she want that after all this time? He did. Dieu. Some nights it was all he could think of.
No matter how many partners he'd taken, no matter who's blood coated his tongue, it was her on his mind.
He growled low in his throat, annoyed with himself for his weakness where this woman was concerned. Once again he tried to tell himself that she was just a woman, a mere woman, but as he withdrew his finger from her wetness and her scent hit him again he realized that he was never going to win that argument. Five years or five hundred, she was his other half. They'd bound their souls all those years ago. He would never be rid of the desire pumping through him.
He lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers. The tenderness between them turned volcanic in an instant and it was a second after that that she pushed at his chest.
“We should—we need... My friends will be wondering about me.”
He managed to pull back from her, somehow. His body angled over hers, he stared down in the blue eyes he knew so well and read the emotions flitting there like an open book.
Fear, uncertainty, passion, desire, distrust.
It was the first and the last that slayed him, that made him roll away from her. He'd never wanted her to fear him; unlike his father, he didn't get off on scaring the women in his life. Dameon knew he could be a cold ruthless bastard; hell, he'd engineered himself that way. Domineering was better than being stepped on, chewed up and spit out. But he'd never wanted to bring that to her life.
She'd been the sunshine on his face far before he'd been able to stand in the daylight. Her laugh had warmed every corner of his cold body, and her love...
Barely holding back a growl over everything he'd had and lost, every fucked up emotion rolling through him, he stood and strode to his closet. When he returned, dressed in slacks and a linen shirt, she'd gone. He'd known she would. Part of him was glad of the space, the time alone. But the other part of him needed to be near her, to feel her skin against his even if it was just palm against palm.
He debated pouring himself a
drink as he stared out over the ocean. Billions of pale dots filled the cloudless sky. The horizon was a blur. A storm was coming.
Don’t let her get away, a voice whispered in his mind. Ask her the questions, another voice hissed.
Both edicts ended in one place. Valencia.
Chapter Nine
It took a few tries before Dameon found Valencia and her friends in the courtyard. The wind had picked up and the clouds were closer, blocking out some of the stars. But the night was warm and the soft glow on Valencia’s skin reminded him of her flush right after climax.
He studied her closely as he approached, not bothering to hide their bond. Surprisingly, she remained relaxed as he took a seat across from her.
A waiter appeared at his side almost immediately to take his order.
“Anyone else need anything? Another beer, Maxim?”
“Sure,” the big wolf replied with a nod of his head. Ceara shook hers when her mate looked down to check on her.
Dameon raised a brow in Valencia’s direction. She shook her head, her elegant bob swinging slightly, brushing her cheek.
She’d changed into a red dress. The garment was casual and clingy, emphasizing her delicious curves, hugging her breasts and did an excellent job of reminding him of what he’d almost possessed.
And the look in her eyes said she knew it to.
The conversation around him continued, Maxim and Shade pulled him into the conversation as if he was a regular member of their group.
As he glanced around at all the faces, strangers only days before, he realized just what Valencia had accomplished. With no family left she’d created a new one. She’d diversified with friends and coven mates that she’d chosen; people she obviously trusted and admired.
And though she didn’t talk a lot, he knew that she was listening, absorbing everything. He could see it in the way her eyes tracked the conversation and curve of her lips when she found something funny.
“So where did Cal and Rosanna go?” Dameon asked as he signaled the waiter for another cocktail. He glanced at Valencia's goblet and saw it was almost empty.
“Another?” he murmured to her.
She inclined her head. While she'd always been beautiful, she was now regal. Even in a dripping wet swimsuit, flippers on her feet, hair plastered to her skull she’d given a princess a run for her money.
Even flat on her back in his bed, moaning for release.
He caught the waiter’s eye and pointed to Valencia's glass.
“Who knows? They're still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship,” Shade said, dipping a French fry into ketchup.
Even though it was well after midnight, the courtyard was littered with couples in various stages of clench. None, however, looked at each other with quite so many stars and moons in their eyes as Izzy and Shade. Their love radiated like a second sun; even Dameon could see that.
“We are still in the honeymoon phase,” Izzy reminded him with a sexy little grin.
Shade groaned and pulled Izzy closer against his side. An uncomfortable feeling ricocheted through Dameon's chest and he ignored it. But, since he’d never been one to let an opportunity pass him by, he drew Valencia into the conversation, wondering if she'd squirm.
“Always a fun stage in a relationship, wouldn't you agree Val-dear?”
For a moment she looked startled. He'd put her on the spot and gotten just the reaction he'd hoped for. She was lost in thought and if she wasn't guarding those thoughts so closely he would have reached out to her mind to see if she was thinking of him. Remembering them and those months that they’d been blind to the world.
“Yes. Fun.” She stared at Izzy and he could see the wheels turning in her mind. She wanted to say more but did not because she valued Izzy's friendship. Interesting.
And far more restrained than the Valencia he’d known in the past. What lessons had she learned since they’d parted? Probably many of the same ones he had.
Trust wisely. Keep your enemies close.
“How did you and Dameon meet?” Izzy asked.
Dameon felt five pair of eyes turn his way. He glanced at Valencia and saw the war in her gaze; she seemed to be holding her breath. But regal as ever, she turned and offered her friends a tight lipped smile.
“That's a long story.”
“Not so long,” Dameon said.
Her mouth screwed to the right, a sign that she wasn't as emotionless as she wanted him to believe. Clearly, she wanted to forget about the passion in his room. She wanted to wipe her mind of his kiss and the way she’d begged him.
Dameon couldn’t forget. Wouldn’t forget. He could still taste her on his lips and knew that one taste would never be enough.
As they had a few hours before, her eyes flashed with silver but she blinked and the specs were gone.
Oh Val…time had been brutal to both of them. She was more beautiful than ever, although he did miss her long hair, and yet, she was more closed off than ever.
She’d been fire two centuries ago. Now she was ice.
Did she think about that day as often as he did? Did she yearn to step back in time? What would she change?
Another couple appeared, arm in arm. He’d seen them at the Masquerade and Valencia quickly introduced them as Grayson and Coco. They gave Izzy and Shade a run in the love department.
Dameon rose from the loveseat so they could sit together.
“Dameon was just telling us how he and Valencia met,” Izzy informed the new comers with a twinkle in her pale blue eyes.
Dameon took the empty space next to Valencia and they accepted new goblets from the waiter. It was tempting to reach for her hand, to see if the fabric of her dress was as soft as it looked. There’d been a time when he wouldn’t have resisted such an impulse.
That’d been the happiest time of his life. How did she push it to the back of her mind so easily? Why did it not burn in her gut? Why did she not ache with everything they’d lost? Why had she left him at the altar in front of everyone, alone instead of confronting him?
“Let's hear it,” Shade said and dumped another glob of ketchup on his plate.
“We met at an old ruins in the country,” Valencia said as if it were an inconsequential detail.
When she didn't elaborate he stretched his arm across the back of the iron loveseat, ignoring the awareness tingling through him. Such was the life of a bonded vampire. Her lure would always tempt him. Always remind him that he was taken, bound, ruined for all others.
He forced himself to be casual when what he really wanted to do was touch her, flash them back to his room and finish what they’d started. But he restrained himself, talked his cock off the ledge and regarded their audience.
“The moon was full that night. Crisp. Early autumn. We were both far from home, but that didn't matter to Valencia. She was fearless. I saw her in a large doorway and the light hit her just so—”
“They don't want to hear all this. It's ancient history,” Valencia inserted. She smiled at her friends again but the gesture didn't meet her eyes. It was a cold smile, prefab, practiced, and emotionless. Then she lifted the goblet to her lips and took a long swallow. Was she fortifying herself?
Why?
Why didn't she want to remember that night?
“Are you going to tell the story, Val-dear, or am I?” he murmured. Her eyes widened and for the briefest moment, the blue swirled to silver.
No, she was not as emotionless as she wanted him to believe. Not by far. She could no more separate sex and emotion than she could butter from a croissant. Both were important ingredients.
“Continue,” Izzy urged.
He inclined his head slightly. “She was a long way off.”
He held out his hand and looked off into the distance.
“I wasn't sure I could trust my eyes. Maybe she was just a ghost, but I was curious.”
“Always curious,” Valencia inserted and this time when her lips twitched he knew they did so with good humor.
> “I told my coven mates that I would meet them at home and I kicked my horse toward the old monastery. We picked our way through quite a bit of rubble and by that time, I'd lost sight of her. So I dismounted and followed the moonbeams—”
“And then he found me. The end.”
He gave her a stern look and the others laughed. Even though she angled her chin up at him ever so slightly in that classic 'Valencia Fabelle' fashion, she leaned back in her chair and sipped her wine, sighing with resignation.
“So I enter the ruins and there's no sign of her. I search and I search and ultimately decide that she must be a ghost.”
“You did not believe in ghosts,” Valencia said.
“I was just about to return to my horse when something caught my eye. I looked up and there she was, sitting atop what was left of a wall, staring down at me.”
Izzy and Ceara sighed.
“He forgets the part where he arrogantly marches up the stairs and–”
“I was concerned for your safety,” he cut in.
“You told me it wasn't safe out there for a woman.”
His lips twitched but he held in the smile. Damn he'd missed their sparring matches. He missed her. Had missed her every day no matter how hard he tried to deny it.
“You were right you know,” she murmured.
“Was I now?” He leaned closer.
“There was evil in those woods. I met you.”
Dameon threw his head back and laughed.
“Some things never change, Val-dear.”
“Your evil ways?” She quipped and took another sip from her goblet.
“Your impeccable sense of timing.”
“We will let you guys discuss this privately,” Izzy said abandoning her glass. Shade stood up next to her and Ceara and Maxim followed suit. Coco and Grayson stood and Coco stared at them with curiosity and concern.
“Please don't let us run you off,” he said, rising. “Valencia and I haven't seen each other in a very long time I'm afraid.”
