“That’s so beautiful, Andor. How did you do that?”
He swung up behind her onto the wooden horse as it rocked and swayed, riding up and then down across the sky. His arms went around her, holding her securely so there was no chance of her falling.
“You’ll be able to do that,” he assured as he nudged the hair from the nape of her neck so he could put his lips there.
“I love the way the notes look, sparkling like that all around us.”
“That is the way your laughter feels to me,” he admitted. “Have you ever been on a horse when it was bucking? Or rearing?”
He felt her swift intake of breath and then the wooden horse reared up on its back legs, pawing at the air with its front hooves. Lorraine clutched his arms but laughed, scattering more silver and gold notes around them. The horse snorted, its breath great puffs of vapor, leaving a trail behind them as it began to buck, lifting its hind end and dipping its head as it hopped across the sky. Andor settled them back into a more sedate pace, the wooden animal moving with an easy rhythm that sent her body deeper and tighter against his.
“Do you want to fly without the horse?” He whispered the temptation in her ear.
She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. One arm curved back to wrap around his head, and she leaned to offer him her lips. There was no resisting that invitation. He kissed her and immediately their fire took over, consuming him, taking them both to that place he would never take for granted.
Little tongues of fire licked at his skin and spread embers in the sky all around them. They looked like tiny fireflies of orange and red. Crackles of electricity added to the symphony of their combined music. He kissed her over and over, loving the feel of her body moving against his, her mouth so hot it could ignite a volcano.
Do that thing. Her voice was pure seduction.
His heart jerked hard in his chest, but not nearly as hard as his cock. That thing?
The one with the clothes. Wave your hand and they disappear. I want to feel you against me. Like Lady Godiva on her horse. You have heard of Lady Godiva, haven’t you?
Her voice was soft and seductive, purely sensual. What man could resist? He couldn’t. He would give her anything she asked for. There was an image in her mind, her facing him, arms around him, the horse moving in that same up and down rhythm as if it was still on the carousel platform and riding in its circle.
He waved, and their clothes were gone. He found himself holding her naked body in his hands, all that soft skin, her curves, her spine rubbing along his front. His cock pressed tight against her, and he cupped her breasts into the palms of his hands. They rode for a few minutes that way, her head back against his shoulder, her body finding that rhythm and relaxing into it.
Andor hadn’t known such contentment. He hadn’t known there was such a thing as this kind of serenity. Passion rose, but it was a long, slow burning climb, and he let it take both of them. She was content with her head back against him and his thumbs moving gently over her nipples. Small little brushing caresses. Persistent, but not demanding.
Her breath moved in and out. His followed. He slid one hand down her belly, feeling every muscle. Feeling how soft she was. Taking that in. Sliding the pad of his finger around her belly button. Tracing that small circle, mapping her body in his mind. Claiming every inch he could take in with his palm and spread fingers. He found the junction between her legs and his fingers trailed down, curved in, his thumb finding that hot little button that gave him gasps and squirms when he brushed and caressed it.
You are so hot and slick, Lorraine. I cannot wait much longer to be inside you. He had enjoyed just rocking with her, going along and allowing their passion to smolder and then burn slowly, but the moment his fingers found her hot cream waiting to welcome him, to bathe him in all that fiery silk, slow had gone out the window.
Again, her soft laughter surrounded them with such joy, his heart turned inside out. You are so beautiful to me. Everything about you. Thank you, sívamet, for saying yes.
What did I say yes to?
Her hands went to his, the one caressing the junction between her legs. Her fingers surrounded his wrist and she moved her body, sliding on the two fingers curled into her. It was a sensual, heated feeling. He pressed closer to her, his fingers plunging and retreating, his thumb stroking and flicking as if that sweet little bud was the string of a violin he was playing.
Her soft groans moved through him like a lazy melody. Soft. Sweet. Perfection. He nuzzled her neck, wanting to take her blood. No, needing to do so. He kissed the small spot over her pulse where it was calling to him. Hot. Wild. Telling him she was as needy as he was.
“What did I say yes to?” she prompted again.
“Me. You said yes to me,” he answered and then sank his teeth into the amazing gift that was Lorraine. The taste of her burst in his mouth, rushing through his veins like a freight train. All his. Everything he would ever need.
A fresh flood of liquid heat coated his fingers and she arched into him and pressed her breasts into his cupped palm. She cried out, the sound of her voice adding to the erotic moment, driving his passion up even further. The horse between their thighs rocked and danced through the air, keeping her legs open for him while he indulged his desires.
“I need you in me.” She whispered the entreaty, reaching back to wrap her arm around his head. “I love this so much.”
Tell me what you love.
The way I’m everything to you. The way you can’t conceive of a life without me. There was the briefest of hesitations. I feel that way about you. The admission came in a shy offering.
He wanted more of her blood. So much more, but that had to come later. In the healing grounds, surrounded by his people. He couldn’t imagine how he was going to keep his body calm during the exchange, but there was no other way, not when he wanted to lessen the pain for Lorraine’s conversion.
He knew others had converted their women without the aid of others and it had been horrendously painful. Rumor had it, some of the women barely made it over to the other side, the process was so agonizing. He didn’t want that for Lorraine, not if he could prevent it.
Andor forced himself to stop the flow of her blood, licking across the two tiny holes in her neck to seal them closed and numb them a little more so they wouldn’t hurt at all. He turned her head to his and took her mouth. Kissing Lorraine was heady. Passionate. Perfect.
She poured herself into her kisses, taking him straight to paradise. There was no way to become used to that first feeling of her mouth on his. Of her tongue following his. Tangling or dancing with his. The sweet heat. The scorching passion. She gave it all to him.
“Please, Andor.”
Her soft entreaty. He loved the way she did that, pleaded for his body, as if he could ever deprive himself. She wasn’t a woman to hide her needs. She asked for what she wanted. Sometimes she demanded. No matter, he was more than happy to oblige.
“Do not turn around. I am going to lift you. You use your hands on the base of my cock to guide me inside you.”
She nodded. So eager. He loved how she didn’t try to hide how much she wanted his cock. He caught her hips and lifted. She held his shaft in her hands and guided the broad head to her entrance. She was slick with need, and he found himself shuddering with pleasure as she slowly settled over him, swallowing him, her tight channel gripping like a vise as he slid inside her.
She didn’t stop settling over him until she was fully seated and he was buried in her. He wrapped his arms around her for a moment, holding her to him, his hands cupping the soft weight of her breasts in his palms. He caught at her nipples, tugging and rolling gently. She was especially sensitive there and each pinch and tug of his fingers caused a shudder and more scorching hot liquid to surround his shaft.
The horse moved one way, Lorraine another and Andor was caught in the middle. It was the best place to be. Every small move she made sent heat rushing through him. Her body squeezed and massa
ged his. Her soft little cries accompanied the gripping and milking, that exquisite torture that had his breathing raw and his body in the throes of passion.
He stood the waves of magic as long as he could and then he picked up the pace, the horse rocking wildly up and down, pushing him deep into her, adding to the weight of him as he thrust harder, feeling that burn through his body. Flames licked at his skin, over him, into him, surrounding his cock as he took her higher and higher.
Her body clamped down hard on his. The strength of those small muscles defeated him every time. There was no hanging on when she did that—surrounded him with her scorching tight sheath and then milked and grasped so greedily. The explosion came from somewhere in the vicinity of his toes and rocked up his calves to his thighs. From there, his balls drew up tight and hot, his seed swirling mercilessly into an explosive volcano. Then his cock was jerking wildly, shuddering and pulsing with absolute need.
Lorraine cried out, calling his name, and his voice, hoarse with desire, muffled by her shoulder, answered with her name. He tightened his arms around her, holding her safe while their carousel horse circled back to find its way home. She sighed contentedly and pressed back against him. He could feel the air moving once again, in and out of her lungs. Her heartbeat began to settle back to normal.
“I am so in love with you, Andor.” She stared up at the stars. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and find you aren’t at all real, that I’ve been living in my own dream so I wouldn’t have to wake up and face the reality of my family’s death. Is that possible? That you aren’t real? That none of this is?”
He caught the little hidden sob in her voice. He bent his head and found the junction between her shoulder and neck. He bit down. Hard. Hard enough that she yelped. Immediately he let up on the pressure and kissed the spot, licking at it with the healing saliva in his tongue. “You felt that. Would it hurt if this was a dream?”
That wasn’t the underlying problem, and he knew it. She felt guilty, afraid she shouldn’t be happy when she’d lost the people she loved so much. That was something Andor had often wondered about. His family had died around the same time his emotions had faded. Had that been part of his acceptance of the loss? He couldn’t feel that mind-numbing emotion of grief? He didn’t have that answer. Only he did know that just being happy didn’t say anything about forgetting those one loved.
“Sívamet. We take happiness when and where we can get it. One has nothing to do with the other. You know that. Intellectually, you know that is the truth. One can still be grieving and yet have a moment of shared laughter or passion. There is no guilt in living when you have lost so much. You live for them. You make your life count. You live to keep their memory alive. You live for yourself. It’s all wrapped up together. We are part of the universe and it is vast. We are small, insignificant in the tapestry, yet we are there. A part of something larger. One false pull of that thread and everything could unravel.”
She leaned her weight into him, a smile in her voice. “Sometimes you say things that are so profound, and yet I have no idea what you’re really talking about.”
“Oftentimes, neither do I, but it made the brethren think I was very important.”
She laughed. “I can imagine. Are you going to teach me the song sung about you around the ancient campfires?”
“No. The only reason to sing that song is to drive Dragomir to distraction.” His hands settled around her waist. He hated to be out of her, but they were getting close to home and he wanted to clean and clothe them. He lifted her, cleansing both of them so they felt refreshed. He added clothes, so when they were once more on the carousel platform, they would look presentable.
“Dragomir deserves a song. Why doesn’t he have one?”
“He probably does. Or did. They are from ancient times, csecsemõ, easily forgotten as the older ones of our species die out.”
“That’s sad.”
“It’s life. The younger generations don’t want to hang on to the old ways because they feel their ways are so much better. Singing songs around a campfire is boring to the younger generation. We have young children already learning technology. That is a good thing, but to have them do both, the singing and learning from their elders as well as embracing new technology, that would be the best of both worlds. That is what we will be teaching our children.”
“If you’re expecting an argument, you aren’t going to get one,” she said.
He detested covering up her body, but he had done so. The ride back to the carousel was nice—he still held her close, his body protectively wrapped around hers, but he wasn’t in her, where he felt he belonged.
The horse slipped back onto the platform and the music immediately began to wind down. They sat for a moment before Andor slipped off and then gently lifted her to the wooden platform. She clutched at him, staring up at his face, and he could see the stars in her eyes.
“Thank you, that was wonderful.”
It was impossible to miss the sincerity in her voice. He kissed her gently. “I loved it, too.” He looked around him. “I think we have an audience.”
She looked up to see a child watching them. Amelia stood next to the little girl, one arm around her. Both looked at them with speculative too-old eyes. She flashed them a smile and then looked beyond them as a shadow passed overhead. “Andor?” There was no disguising the shakiness in her voice, or the trembling in her body.
“I see it, csecsemõ. You just walk down to the yard and meet Liv. Clearly, they’ve been waiting. Make certain Emeline is out of sight. If not, warn her.”
Lorraine nodded, not panicking. He knew she wouldn’t. She wasn’t the type of woman to panic. She glanced at the crows gathering around the fences. “There are so many of them. I’ve always liked ravens and crows. I thought they were smart, and when the sun shines on their feathers, they’re beautiful, although a bit too large.”
“Sergey has taken them over. The birds are not bad, just what a master vampire is forcing them to do for him.”
“Well, they do look sinister gathered together like that,” she pointed out. “It’s just like a very scary movie. I’ve never seen so many of them in one place before.”
He caught her chin and kept her looking at him. “Sergey cannot get past the safeguards. He can have his crows follow every move we make and he still cannot touch us.”
“Those poor children, though, Andor. What a way to live their lives. It has to take a toll on them.”
“They were street kids. They have a good home, clothes, food and a lake to swim in when it’s hot. They have dragons to fly and a playground to play in. They have carousels with horses and other animals, and those carousels will do all sorts of fun things. More importantly, they are loved.”
She pressed her forehead to his shoulder. “I suppose you’re right. It just feels to me as if there must be a way to free those crows from Sergey’s hold. They would be free, and so would all of us.”
“Even if you can’t see his spies, Lorraine, they are there. Always, there are eyes on this place. It is better for us if we see them.”
She shook her head. “I disagree entirely. You will get used to them being there. The children will get used to them. Soon, no one will pay that much attention. If you can’t see an enemy, but you know he’s close, you’re going to keep looking, and that makes you all the more aware.”
Andor blinked. His woman could be right. “I am not arguing with that. You could very well be right, although I hope not. I know Sergey is determined to make his stand against us. Now, knowing for certain his brother still lives, the only thing I can think to do is plant a spy among his followers. We tried to do such a thing in South America. It is not an easy task.”
She gave a delicate shudder. “I can’t imagine what that person would have to go through.”
“They have parasites in their blood. Their blood is very much like acid. Destiny, a child who was turned by a vampire, endured their blood for a long time, although it wasn’t qu
ite as caustic as it is now. Emeline is the only other person who went a very long time with vampire blood eating away at her. It was difficult for her to even think with the presence of the blood in her veins. Still, it can be done. It just is very … uncomfortable.”
They stepped off the carousel platform and started across the yard toward Amelia and Liv. The two girls were leaning against a large brown stone dragon. Liv had her arm around its neck.
“She is a child, but already her lifemate is aware of her,” Andor explained. “Val Zhestokly joined our brethren centuries ago. He wears the tattoo on his skin declaring to the world that he lives for her. He was taken prisoner by Vadim almost immediately after he left the brethren. He was tortured and bears the scars. Young Liv was given to puppets and used to feed vampires. Vadim tried to force Val to join them by first starving him and then offering Liv to him to kill. Instead, he gave her a blood exchange to make her stronger, allowing her to live until rescue came. At that time, although she was barely starting puberty, which is when a lifemate can find another lifemate, he was able to tell that Liv was his. He guards her closely.”
“You said it was difficult for a lifemate when they know but can’t do anything about it.”
He nodded. “It is a torment like no other. Val can see in color, although not bright colors. Liv recently turned eleven. It will be a couple more years before colors brighten for Val. His emotions are there, but not like you experience them. I think it is just enough to feel guilt that he cannot feel more.”
They spent time with the two girls, both getting to know them. Andor had been there for a few weeks, but he hadn’t talked much to either girl. He found them intelligent and quick, but truthfully, he could feel the terrible weight of darkness pressing on Amelia’s shoulders. He knew Lorraine felt it, too. She looked to him as if he could ease her burden. He shook his head in regret. There were things even a Carpathian couldn’t undo.
The healing grounds were huge and cool beneath the house. The black soil, filled with sparkling minerals, stretched out the full length of the house. Low cement walls ringed the grounds, holding the large posts that set the foundation for the building. Just beyond the cement were wooden boards cleverly joined to make up the walls beneath the basement, yet every so many support beams held cracks to allow moonlight in.
Dark Sentinel ('Dark' Carpathian Book 32) Page 34
